#real genuine envy from me I need that shirt

[coldbeerhotwomen]

just found your blog because i also thought of wearing the shirt to TIT why tf is no one selling it

oh my god like you absolutely get it you understand!!!!! icb dan and capitalester have left this potential market untapped

[teddybeartoji]

CHALLENGERS (2024)

i've been racking my brain for quite some time now to come up with a way to really express how i feel about this film - and i think the best way to do it is just to say that it truly made me want to get into filmmaking. and that it made me feel so fucking alive. it felt like a different type of oxygen. like crack or something. this is obviously going to be a ramblepost so i apologize if it's super fucking messy. also big spoilers will come with a warning so don't worry abt that. i am going insane.

+ btw here's the trailer if u don't know anything abt this hehehehe

anywayy i've never sat through a WHOLE film with a smile on my face bc i was just so fucking excited. elated is a really good word here i think. all of the following thoughts and words are in fact coming from my lower tummy bc no other film has turned me on so much as this did. it's not about sex btw.

luca guadagnino understands. he really fucking does. this guy is everything i want to be. it's all about the intimacy and the closeness. the sweat. the colors. the eyes. the dialogue. the camerawork. the build-up. staging and blocking. lighting. it is about sex but not in the way that you think. forget about porn and smut and whatever the fuck you think sex is. it's about watching and observing. taking everything in. it's about your heartbeat. the warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach. a tightening knot. want and desire. anger. the rawness of it all. just the way things should be. forget about quickies and think about your best friend thinking about your lover. it's hot, right? it's about the rush. it's about sharing and not sharing. it's about greed and envy. think about sore muscles - how good they feel. think about flashing lights and thrumming bass in your ears. it's about music that makes you feel alive. it's about nudity, it's about power. humility and the absolute lack of it. it's about real humans, real people. eroticism. kissing. disgust. need. spit and saliva. tongues dancing together. muscles. skin on skin. laughter. love and something that's very akin to it but not quite the same. extreme close-ups and moments in slow motion, followed by fast-paced cuts and scenes. slapping. teasing and bickering. it's about everything i could possibly want in this fucking life and luca just handed it all to me on a silver platter.

i'm trying so hard to make this as coherent as possible lmao please bear with me i quite literally shed a couple of tears just from the overwhelming feeling this film gave me.

the casual intimacy is insane in this. one really specific thing made me absolutely lose it - there are TWO scenes where art spits out his gum into people's hands. the first is with tashi and the second time it's with patrick - both times they stand so close together that they're almost brushing against each other and they keep eye contact. there's zero disgust, there's no ew you just spit your gum into my hand. they ask for it. both times, patrick and tashi, hold out their palms for art to do it, and they do it without a word. no please or spit it out. i loved it so fucking much i wish i was better with words bc this genuinely had such a big effect on me. this type of intimacy is so important to me. it feels so real.

the dialogue was fucking great. i feel like the script is often where i might get The Ick bc i just hate when it's just so clear that it was written down without a second thought abt whether or not people actually talk like that (ok this actually might just be a problem with every single film my country makes but still). this felt good!!!!! they talk over people, they talk about small irrelevant things. they repeat what they said, they giggle, they laugh - again, it just felt so real and i loved it.

also. men in shorts. sweaty men in shorts. with shirts and without shirts. biceps. more sweat. muscles. we need more of that in life actually. i think men should wear shorter shorts and they should bend over more. ALSO MIDRIFF. SHIRTS RISING UP JUST A LITTLE, GIVING US A GLORIOUS PEEK OF WHAT'S UNDERNEATH. WHEN I TELL YOU THAT LUCA UNDERSTANDS I FUCKING MEAN THAT SHIT.

THE SOUNDTRAAAACKKKKKK RRRRRAAAAHHHHHHH EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU TRENT REZNOR AND ATTICUS ROSS WE LOVE YOU TRENT REZNOR AND ATTICUS ROSS!!!!!!!!!!!! i mean it's obviously not a surprise that the score slaps so hard bc well... these guys have yet to make a bad score lmao. but this one is genuinely one of my favourite scores i think. super fast paced, exhilarating - it suits the film so fucking good holy shit. fuck it i'll give you a few songs:

challengers: match point + yeah 10x + pull over +

the cast was incredible. and also very hot. i think they were all so fucking perfect and i have literally zerooo complaints abt them i loved them so much. but if i had to pick a favourite performance... it's josh o'connor as patrick zweig. fuuuuckkkk, man. ok maybe i'm a bit biased here i do wanna kinda eat him buTTTTTTT HE'S AN AMAZING ACTOR OKAY. i loved his character soooooo fucking much and i think he did such a good job at portraying this little silly fucked up guy. the way he looks at art, the way he acts around art...

here are two crazy fucking examples for you the churro + the chair uhhhhhhh i am very unwell abt them actually what the fuuuuckkkkk

oke but yeah i just might be really down bad bc i really do love overly cocky assholes with beautiful big smiles okay don't judge me

THE VISUALSSSSS OH MY FUCKING GODD THE COLORSSS!!!!!!!! IT WAS SOOOOOOOOOOOO BRIGHT AND PRETTY AND FUN AND ALIVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EVERYBODY CHEEERRSSS!!!!!!!!! it's such a big problem nowdays that all of the films are so fucking dark like bro where's the sun...... dark and just very dull you know??? and i hate it i hate it so much. this was great though. again - super birhgt and colorful, luca plays with the light like a god and he's really making me believe that the cinema is truly backk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they also mentioned spider-verse!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i <3 luca fr

okay i think this covers most of it. i think. i have already decided that i'm gonna go and see it again next week so i'm sure that i'll be returning to this post!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i hope you can all feel my love for this wonderful piece of art and i hope that you all will go and watch it aswell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 ily thank you for reading<333333

[libertybri]

hiii. i love your blog sm. can u do a fo4 companions react to a shirtless buff m!sole for the first time (while companions having a huge crush towards m!sole 😄😄)

thanks for the kind words! this ask made me laugh at the thought of very flustered companions losing their entire vocabulary lol!!

Companions-

Cait

“Don’ know what I was expectin’ under yer clothes, but it wasn’t that. I’d have ripped yer shirt off long ago, that was the case.” Her eyes go big and she holds a shit-eating grin as she proclaims this to Sole proudly.

Codsworth

“Way to maintain the figure, sir!” He’s definitely seen his master shirtless before, but whew, Codsworth thought that wasteland did Sole good. No, not good, great. He can’t help but to linger around and sneak glances.

Curie

“Mon chéri, so handsome!” She is filled with delight, knowing and seeing Sole in such great health.

Danse

“I see you’ve been keeping up with your routine. Good work, solider.” He speaks as casually as he can, but can’t help his wandering eyes and reddening face.

Deacon

“Ah… that’s a nice look on you.” For once, he is at a loss for words. If it’s not awkward enough, he definitely shoots Sole the finger guns and runs into the wall on his way out of the room.

Gage

“Heh… always nice to know your boss has muscle. Not that it was hard to see that before anyway.” He silently admires Sole’s form and doesn’t take embarrassment to his lingering eyes at all.

Hancock

“You trying to impress? Heh, ‘cause ya got me.” If he wasn’t hooked on Sole before, he certainly is now.

MacCready

“Woah! You’re– wow.” He cannot utter a word in his amazement at the sight of shirtless, buff Sole. He’s feeling something right now, only he doesn’t know if it’s envy or arousal.

Nick

“Well you sure are in good health, kid.” A smirk plays at his lips as he admires Sole’s form.

Piper

“Whew, Blue! Is it hot in here?” Her face goes tato red as she attempts to tear her gaze away from Sole while promptly fanning herself.

Preston

“I, uh, hope I’m not interrupting anything, General.” His eyes go wide but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away at first. His face heats up and he tries his best to avoid Sole for a while after that, at least until he can cool down from that ‘hotter than hot’ display.

X6-88

“Excellent physique, sir.” He compliments cooly and leaves it at that, however he can’t help but to sneak a few glances.

Extra NPCs-

Desdemona

“You should really put your shirt back on. It’s quite dangerous for myself to be so… captivated in this sight.” She smirks and knows that it isn’t what she wants, but truly it can be dangerous to be so distracted.

Edward Deegan

“Man, that’s quite a sight.” He mumbles this more this himself, but doesn’t care if Sole hears him.

Glory

“Nice figure, friend.” She smirks and doesn’t feel the need to conceal her attraction to Sole, especially in this moment.

Jack Cabot

“Heavens… you are just perfect!” He can’t help himself but to exclaim this to Sole, stating it very factually.

Magnolia

“Well, you certainly know how to get a girl worked up.” She sighs deeply as she admires Sole and fans herself dramatically.

Mags Black

“Shirts are so pointless anyway. I propose you should never wear one again.” She is all too serious in this proposal, wishing it were possible to burn every shirt he owned in that instant. And any shirt that could fit him within a hundred mile radius would be in ashes too, if she had any say in it.

Mason

“I think you might be the only one who could outdo me. Heh, and I’m not even mad about it.” He admires Sole both in appreciation for his form and genuine attraction to him.

Maxson

“Excellent form, solider.” He grins, satisfied with such a well-maintained solider behind him and having seen that glorious sight in the first place.

Nisha

“You make it real hard to not like you, you know that?” Truthfully, she didn’t mind him before but it was getting real hard to keep up with her ‘badder than the Overboss’ act when she got weak around sights like that.

Sturges

“Heh heh, now that’s somethin’ you don’t see everyday.” He casts glances over at Sole and doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s ogling.

Tinker Tom

“Damn! You look good!” He’s all-in-all confident in telling Sole this, not caring if he leaves his attraction to the man on the surface. Tom likes what he sees.

Travis Miles

“Oh my…” He feels the ground cement him in place as he stares at Sole with wide eyes, and a deep blush takes over his features.

William Black

“Damn Boss…” He’s at a loss for words and bites his lip as he looks away sheepishly.

[yaomomvs]

SEIJOH MANANGER HEADCANONS

seijoh, aoba johsai x reader | slight oikawa, iwaizumi and kunimi x reader.

a/n: ugh! i just love my seijoh boys so much! and so, i decided to make one more headcanons for them, tysm! hopefully i’ll do inarizaki next or maybe karasuno.

a bit long but i just love them,and i will do a part two mainly focusing on while they do volleyball this is more of random things

other seijoh!manager works: one | two

the volume in this bus is ASTRONOMICAL

you actually never thought of joining a club, specially a sports one.

but you needed it, so while looking at the board of the school’s options you were unsure.

“i just really need something not that complicated, and that helps me helping others” you muttered to yourself

little did you know the coach of the volleyball team was there, this nice man turned to you and offered you a place in the team.

“but please if you are one of oikawa’s fangirls dont-” “who now?” you genuinely asked. seeing that you didn’t had a clue of who he was talking about he immediately handed the application for to you.

it was first day and you were already late, but you managed to enter the gym half way practice.

you guys remember that tanaka and kiyoko scene in s4? well it was the same

“sorry for being late coach!” your voice sounded all over the place since someone was serving and it was pretty quiet.

ALL OF THEM WERE SHOCKED LIKE 🧍🏻‍♀️

the serve even hit yahaba’s face because everyone got distracted by your beauty

“i- did i do something?” “existing omg”

the coach lined up everyone and they greeted you welcoming you to the team.

you were flustered because it was like you never had a lot of guys around you and now you had to take care of all of them and also

aoba johsai’s team had one of the most attractive boys around likeeee

now, a year later, the energy is purely chaotic.

and i mean like

kindaichi and kunimi are lowkey the ones who respect you the most

not only because you, even if it was for only a year, you were their upperclassman but also you had presence

when karasuno came to the practice andy oh catched both of them after talking to kageyama in the bathroom, you pinched their ears and scolded them

“you both do that again and i’m not being compassionate” “SORRY Y/N”

but also lowkey your admirers

kunimi literally only showed strong emotions around you

“i brought you some sweets” he regularly says

“oh you are great! thank you kunimi!”you appreciated this guys little details with you

“so you have a favoritism with our manager huh?”

“y/n permission to hit kindaichi”

“permission conceded”

kindaichi also respected you because you, when he entered seijoh months ago, were one of the ones who made him believe and helped getting over that anger he had with his ex teammates and you even assured that kageyama was the reason he got better, even if he wouldn’t accept it

the second years, your literal followers

like seriously yahaba watori were always around you.

being in the same grade and class as both dod not helped a lot.

they are like puppies with anxiety separation

because you are the reason they feel loved and cared for

they always sit next to you in class, and they make sure you are comfortable with it.

you need help with hw? watori always is there

yahaba lets you paint his nails every time you got bored in class

you were such a powerful trio

they always bring your favorite drink in the mornin

you even developed this sixth sense where if you just look at each other you know exactly who are you making fun of without even speaking

you always make fun of the shit way of yahaba to flirt oml

and you even advice him on what should he do or not when meeting someone new.

istg if it was not bc of you he would have never got his first date with his crush

kyoutani later joined you, but he had trouble on trusting you

but seeing all the team laying on you he actually let himself rely on another person for the first time

he was the one who scared those stupid volleyball boys fan girls (oikawa’s or the other guys ones) away from you

he also thinks that you are not bad physically talking and he actually says it but privately

he also whenever he is mad or just frustrated comes to you and what he likes is that you don’t go in deep of the details but instead you try to distract him with random thing you say.

“guys i told you several times” you laughed “i do have other thing to do! it not like i can attend every night out with you! i have other friends too!”

“so, we are not watching cartoons tonight?”

“i hate you all so much” you surrendered “see you at 8 pm”

you became the second years core four

and also they looked up to you a lot, why? because you are the only people who always deals with the third years shit

god i think your connection with the third years was only a bit more noticeable than the second years

why? you were not afraid to mess up with them

to be real iwaizumi as oikawa caught your eye since moment one, they were naturally attractive and talented but you made a promise to not fall for anyone

omg you were so wrong

if it was iwaizumi, he always made sure you felt comfortable around

you were no vb genius so he took the time to explain you a bunch of things you did not know 🥺

also, he’s the kind of guy to stop everyone spiking because you were crossing through the gym so no ball gets you

he is the one who always search for you in school, asked about your day, and stuff that might seem basic but it was really meaningful

like he is the kind of guy who memorizes all your favorite places, treats, music anything and actually tries to get you to talk about it

oikawa on the other hand was the one who actually made you feel like part of them

he is so sweet!

like

oikawa only starts practice when you are there

like bold of someone to start hitting a ball without you there, he considered you part of the team, so he always waited for you

he walked you home or nearby every time he could he wanted you safe

his eyes always always instantly light up and screams “y/n-chan!” and immediately runs to you

but also he is the one who search you the most around

if it was lunch time he went to your home room and literally lunches with you no matter what or who

he never lets anyone lend you their hoodie, it always has to be his that you are wearing

he self crowned himself as your favorite

he hugs you out of nowhere istg is the best feeling ever

hanamaki also also also considers you priority

he is kinda more of the lowkey one, he is mainly the one who checks up on you

he once spotted a bruise in your arm and he immediately freaked out

“DO I HAVE TO FIGHT SOMEONE” “god no! i just dropped a huge book there!”

hanamaki is the one who waits for you in the entrance of the gym to walk with you to practice

he also is the first one to notice if something is wrong with you along with iwachan

they both unintentionally pay attention to you a lot and if you do something out of the common they just approach you

and they are always right

“what’s wrong y/n?” hanamaki says

“yeah, is everything okay you need anything?” iwaizumi continues.

“what do you mean guys? i’m okay” you obviously try to lie.

“no you are not, you are acting different”

“yea iwachan is right you always change yous t shirt before practice and the way you are ordering the volleyballs is off”

“why do know me so well” you indeed had a terrible day, so you almost tear up bb of that and be of how amazing your boys were to you sometimes”

“come here little one”

you heard a pout

“i see you oikawa, you can get a hug too. matsu come here”

matsukawa is your hype man

he loves messing with you like in the big brother sister way

like if a guy asked you out he’d be like “sis you can do so much better”

you are always being salty whether it’s between you or other ones

besides if you do have a crush on anyone on the team matsu is the only one to know

and he’d constantly blackmail you with that

“if you don’t buy me anything from the vending machine i will tell oikawa you actually swoon for him” “OKAY FINE”

“tell the coach that we do not need laps or iwaizumi is gonna knowwwww about” “i hate you so much”

but returning to the point you always messed with them specially the four third years

and you were so good at it

one day, you ‘innocently’ mentioned to the boys “i’m just telling you! i’ve never seen two pretty best friends, one of them always gotta be ugly”

GOD LORD THE BOMB YOU JUST ACTIVATED

THEY SPENT A WHOLE WEEK TRYING TO FUGURE OUT WHO WAS THE PRETTY BEST FRIEND BETWEEN IWA AND OIKAWA, ALSO MATSU AND HANAMAKI AHHAHAHAAH

your third years never made you feel insecure

like if you think idk listening to btr was weird because someone in the past made you feel like it be sure the next day they WILL PLAY FUCKING BIG TIME RUSH IN PRACTICE ONLY FOR YOU TO VIBE WITH THEM

also they all four have this little thought that they have to be the ones who protect you

in the court you looked out for them, outside of it they were the ones who did that

if you were teased or someone even had the audacity to make fun of you it could go three ways

you stoping kyoutani and yahaba because they were so ready to throw hands

matsukawa, hanamaki and kunimi just taking you out of there and rather say positive thinks about you

or oikawa and iwaizumi behind you giving the saltiest and meanest glares to whoever dared talking you that way and saying “and you still wonder why people don’t like you?, ” then iwaizumi says “you are right oikawa, you piece of crap have your entire life to be a jerk. take a day off your stupidity won’t left anyways”

god you sure loved those guys

BUT

as it can be really useful sometimes there were other times were they become so annoying

specially when it’s about someone liking you.

like romantic styles

i live for the idea that the vb team had obviously fangirls, oikawa mostly. but you also did

like yeah the fangirls of oikawa and the boys envied you

but the guys in aoba johsai high envied the volleyball team even more

god bless the poor guy or girl who DARES to ask you out

like please someone stop them 😭

on valentine’s day you came to practice a bit late just because you needed to figure it out how to organize all the fucking love letters and the chocolates and flowers that you got over the day.

oikawa was already worried as he always waited for you to start, and so were the guys so they decided to warm up a bit more to wait.

you crossed the door with thousands of gifts and all of that barely catching the ones which you dropped. because at this point you did not even try to hide it from the boys, you just wanted them to start practice.

he looked at you and knew exactly what that meant. he received this every once in a while, but god what was that feeling in his chest when some other people like you?

iwaizumi felt that too, that weird feeling not wanting anyone to think about you that wayyyyy

the rest of the boys had divided opinions but still you were their manager.

“so did all this came from...”

“yes matsu...”

“okay but for scientific purposes we need the names”

“HANAMAKI NO”

poor boys, they just are all scared that you’ll leave them because of someone

what a dramatic queens they are all

some of them didn’t like it bc they also had a big crush on you

so what they do is that they gatekeep anyone from you

like oml if they ever catched you and a girl or guy and they knew they liked you they constantly beg for your attention.

and it’s not only because they are being dramatic but also because they remember last year when you went out with some random dude and broke your heart like

they almost killed that guy

so they wanted you to feel happy and safe

to them? honestly you are the light of their life.

they dedicate every game to you, they take care of you, they listen to you, they brag about you, they love you

because honestly you did all that for them first

and ever since then they made sure to return that to you.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Bo Sinclair x F Reader (NSFW)

           Summary: Bo wants you to pitch in a little more. He gets more than he bargained for.

             Warnings: Dubcon, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, slapping, degradation, facial, swearing, objectification of reader, alcohol use, mentions of death and violence.

 ~~

             “Put this on.”

             You drop the rag in your hands to catch the yellow floral dress before it smacks you in the face. You glare up at Bo from you spot on the linoleum. Your knees ache. You’d been scrubbing grime off the kitchen floor for two hours.

             “What for?” you ask, bracing a hand against the counter to heave yourself to your feet.

             “It’s time you start pullin’ your weight.” You look around you, flabbergasted. What had you been doing all this time, if not ‘pullin’ your weight?’ Cooking and cleaning all day, every day wasn’t enough for him?

             You keep your mouth shut. The answer is obvious. Of course, it isn’t enough. Nothing would be. If it was up to Bo, you would have been dead the first day you walked into this God-forsaken town.

             “Can I at least know what I’m supposed to do? You know, so I do it right?” You adopt a sweeter tone, hoping to quell the sour mood Bo always seemed to be in when he spoke with you.

             “Two college assholes campin’ nearby.” Bo adjusts his hat and crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame before continuing, “They’ll be needin’ a fan belt. Lester is on his way to get ‘em. Need you to bring one up to the house for Vincent while I take care of the other one.”

             What is it with Bo and fan belts?

             Then, the gravity of what he’s said hits you. Instantly, you pale. They’ve never had you participate before. You can’t do it, no way.

             “Bo—

             “You’ll do this, or I’ll make sure the next one on Vincent’s table is you. Got it?” He snarls, leaning forward and shoving a finger in your face. You clench your jaw, hesitantly nodding. What choice do you have?

             “Make yerself decent and meet me at the shop in a half.”

**

             You understand why Bo chose this dress. It’s tight, flaring out at the hips and hanging just halfway down your thighs. Your breasts are almost spilling out the top too. It shouldn’t be hard to lure a ‘college asshole’ up to the house looking the way you do now. You wonder which poor soul wore this dress before they ended up in the museum.

             You think you might be sick.

             As you walk to the shop, the oppressive Louisiana heat beats down on you, making you squint and pant. Sweat beads along your forehead and chest before spilling into your cleavage. You adjust your outfit, hoping to hide a little more skin. You feel exposed. The old wax woman across the street peers disapprovingly out her window. You flip her the bird. Poor old bitch.

             You round the corner to the little gas station, heart hammering. Lester’s truck isn’t there, but you can see three shadows inside the darkened shop window. You fluff up your hair, sucking in a huge breath. You can do this. You have to do this. You don’t have a choice.

             “Hey, Bo, need anything?” You adopt a honeyed southern accent, resting your hands on your hips, your face breaking into a smile. You hope it looks genuine.

             The three men inside turn to look at you. All three are apparently struck dumb by the sight of you. As you lock eyes with Bo, you fight the blush creeping up your neck. Baby blues rake over your body before snapping back to your face. He grins.

             “Hey, sis. Just in time.”

             Sis, huh?

             “These boys need a V-belt. I don’t see any here. You remember if we have any up at the house?”

             “Yeah, we just got some in today,” you chirp, reaching behind you to pull your hair off your dewy neck.

             “Would you mind takin’ one of these two up to the house to get it? I ought to go over cost of repairs here.”

             “Can do.”

             “Dibs!” shouts one of the boys, a tall, lanky thing wearing the stupidest sleeveless shirt you’ve ever seen. ‘Party with Sluts’ it reads. Okay, maybe this won’t be so hard. His friend punches him in the arm and he laughs before sauntering over to you, motioning for you to lead the way.

             “Hey, behave yerself. That’s my lil’ sister.” If you didn’t know Bo, you’d think he was teasing, messing with the kid, but the smirk curling across his face tells you he’s dead serious. No part of that smile reaches his eyes. You do not envy the kid you’re leaving here with him.

             “Bo! Knock it off,” you giggle, pretending to be embarrassed.

             If you were to look back on the conversation you had with the nameless guy you’re leading to his death, you wouldn’t remember a word of it. Your blood rushes too loudly in your ears to hear half of what he’s saying. You just giggle and play with your hair every time he speaks. It seems to be working.

             “Uh, kay, wait here, I’ll just run upstairs and get the belt,” you say a little too loud so Vincent can hear. You leave him at the bottom of the stairs, careful to accentuate the sway of your hips as you climb the steps so he’s distracted.

             Vincent wastes no time. As soon as you make it to the top, you hear a strangled shout, a heavy thud, then nothing. You don’t turn around.

             The second you make it to your room you peel the dress off your sticky skin and hurl it across the room. Desperately, you fight the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and the burn in your throat. You had to. You had to. You can’t die yet, not after everything you’ve been through.

**

             You carefully level off a cup of flour before tipping it into a bowl on the counter. You do the same with the baking powder, salt, baking soda….

             It’s three something in the morning. You haven’t been able to sleep all night. So, you do what you always do when you can’t sleep: You bake cookies.

             You gather up the butter wrappings and head for the trash can. As you move, you catch something out of the corner of your eye and jump in shock, gasping and bracing a hand against your chest.

             Bo leans against the doorway, beer in hand, mechanic suit half off and tied around his waist. He chuckles quietly when you grasp the counter and take a deep breath to steady your racing heart.

             “You scared the shit out of me,” you chide, tossing the wrappings into the garbage. You glance down, noticing your bare legs. Right. You’re only wearing a pair of panties and one of Vincent’s flannels. You didn’t think anyone else would be awake at this hour. Three AM usually found Bo passed out, Lester camping somewhere in his truck, and Vincent toiling away in the basement.  

             “I’ll go put some pants on,” you mumble, moving to leave the kitchen, but Bo extends his arm across the doorway to block your exit.

             “Nah. You look good in my shirt,” he comments, mouth quirking up at the corner in that stupid self-satisfied smirk he always wears. You glance down at the red and black checkered flannel, then back to Bo again.

             “I thought it was Vincent’s. I must have got it mixed up in the wash.” You swallow, looking away. You don’t like how he’s looking at you, like a wolf eyeing an injured lamb. He sets his beer on the top of the fridge.

             “No harm, no foul,” he murmurs, dropping the arm from the doorway to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. You jerk out of his reach, backing away. He follows leisurely, pressuring you until you’re backed up against the counter. He doesn’t stop advancing until his face is inches from yours.

             “Bo,” you mutter, a shaky breath leaving your mouth with his name. You say it like a plea.

             “Yeah?” he purrs, placing both hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He leans in closer, so close you can smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath.

             “Please,” you whisper, voice trembling. He groans quietly under his breath at that.

             “Hmm, say that again, darlin’.” You shake your head, tensing when he reaches up to glide his fingers, feather light, across your jaw. He continues, “I didn’t like the way those fuckers were lookin’ at you today. Not. One. Bit.” He taps you on the nose in time with the last three words.

             “Well, they’re dead now, so….” You trail off, your hammering heart trying to force its way into your throat.

             “Mmm hmm,” he hums, “You did good today, baby. Real good.” You swallow, face heating up, a jolt of arousal sparking between your legs. His voice, the fingers stroking along your collarbone, his words; they’re having an effect on you.

             “Bo,” you beg again, more insistent this time.

             “You don’t like this?” he asks, stepping forward so you’re pressed flush against him. The heat of his body is overwhelming.

             “N-no, please, s—

             Your plea is cut off by the gasp that sneaks from your throat when Bo shoves his hand into your underwear and drags his fingers along your dripping slit. He brings them in front of your face, showing you how your slick shines in the low light of the kitchen.

             “I think you’re a fuckin’ liar,” he purrs, grinning wider, “Open your mouth.” You bite your lip and Bo strikes, gripping your jaw hard. “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart. You won’t like it.”

             Slowly, you part your lips, opening wider when he shoves his wet fingers in your mouth.

             “Clean ‘em off. That’s a good girl.” You roll his fingers and your own salty taste around on your tongue, sucking on them when he demands it. That pulls another low groan from him.

             “I knew that mouth was good for somethin’.” He pulls his fingers from your lips and pushes them back into your panties. You inhale sharply and bite your lip again when his deft fingers find your clit, circling slowly, torturously.

             “Fuck, you’re wet, baby girl.” The words are whispered against your lips, his warm breath washing over your face. You let out a shaky breath, forcing your hips to stay still and not buck like you want. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

             Bo chuckles against your mouth before dragging your underwear down your legs, kneeling as he goes. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder. Vincent could walk in any minute, or Lester, you’re right there in the open—

             Bo dives in, sucking your clit into his mouth and humming. All your thoughts derail, crash, and burn. Your eyes roll back and you grip the edge of the counter with one hand, the other flying to your mouth to muffle your wanton moan.

             He laughs, dragging his tongue up your slit and lapping at your clit, slow, deliberate licks with the flat of his tongue. You can’t help it this time; you grind your hips into his mouth and he grabs a handful of your ass to pull you closer. He slips two fingers into your sopping cunt, curling them and making you whine pathetically. Jesus Christ, you’re already close.

             “Bo, Bo, Bo, I’m…I’m gonna—

             And then he pulls away. Your frustrated gasp is silenced when Bo slaps the inside of your thigh, hard. It makes you yelp and try to squirm away. He stands and grabs your jaw roughly, squeezing painfully.

             “Uh uh, I don’t fucking think so. Yer gonna cum on my cock and nowhere else, understand?” You nod, skin feeling like it’s on fire. You haven’t been touched like this for six fucking months. You worry you’re going to be consumed by need. You’ll say anything he wants.

             “Oh, ya’ want that now? You want me to fuck ya’?” His lips are wet, shining with your juices, and inches from yours again. He grinds his hard, clothed length against your hip.  

             “Yes,” you slur. It’s hard to talk with his hand squeezing your face so hard.

             “You forget your manners, sweetheart?”

             “Please, Bo, please,” you beg, resisting the urge to jerk your head out of his punishing grip.

             “Good girl,” he praises, spinning you around and bending you over the counter. He tugs your arms behind your back, gripping your forearms with one hand while he frees his cock with the other. It slaps against your ass, hard and heavy.

             In one, smooth motion, he lines up with your entrance and slams home, impaling you. You shriek behind grit teeth. Your walls spasm around the sudden intrusion and you wiggle your hips in an attempt to adjust to the stretch.

             “Ohhh fuck, that’s tight,” he growls in your ear, giving you no time to catch your breath before he’s ramming into you. The wet smack of skin against skin echoes around the kitchen. Every thrust pulls a strangled moan or whimper from your throat as you desperately try to contain your sounds of pleasure and pain. Bo laughs cruelly, hot breath puffing against your ear.

             “What’s the matter, baby? Don’t want anyone hearing you get fucked?” He punctuates the last word with a particularly vicious thrust. You mewl, and Bo wraps his free hand around your throat, pulling until you arch uncomfortably.

             Despite the mean treatment, Bo still manages to push you to the brink of orgasm again, his cock battering that perfect spot within you. You can’t speak well at this angle and with his hand tight around your throat, but he feels you beginning to clench around him, feels your legs trembling violently.

             “Yeah, cum on my cock, sweetheart, c’mon, give it to me, fuck yes, yes, yes—

             You bite your lip so hard you taste the coppery tang of blood on your tongue. Hot pleasure curls through your core, numbing you as you tumble over the edge into bliss. Bo groans in your ear, releasing your neck in favor of digging his nails into your hip.

             “’M gonna cum. Yer gonna—f-fuck—gonna get down on your knees and open that pretty mouth, understand?” Dazed, you nod. Bo pulls out and as you turn around, he shoves you down to your knees so hard they crack against the linoleum. Your pained grunt is interrupted when Bo fists a hand in your hair, yanking your head back.

             “Open yer mouth, stick out yer tongue, yeah, fuck—

             His voice is tense, clipped, his hand pumping his slick cock. He utters a broken moan and you snap your eyes shut as he paints your face, lips, and tongue white.

             “Swallow,” he orders breathlessly. You do as your told, forcing the bitter taste of him down your throat. He hums in approval, releasing your hair. You wipe your face on your sleeve and crack your eyes open to peer up at Bo. His cheeks are flushed pink, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead, chest heaving.

             “Goddamn, you look good like that,” he says, mouth turning up in a crooked grin. After tucking himself away, he helps you to your feet and grabs a nearby washrag to blot away the cum staining your skin. Your legs wobble, your crimson cheeks growing redder the longer he grins at you. Bo smooths your hair back, tucking it neatly behind your ears.

             “There. Good as new.” He swats you on the ass, making you jump in surprise. “Now get to bed. I expect breakfast in the morning, as usual.”  

             What a bastard.

[sithsecrets]

one and lonely | din djarin x reader

you and mando visit one of his old friends at a corellian strip club, and doubt begins to set in. in return, mando gives you something no one’s ever had: his name.

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2.8k words

mentions: implied/referenced piv sex, fem!reader, strippers, strip clubs, original female character, mild jealousy, mild hurt/comfort, mild smut, fluffy at the end

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In hindsight, you have no idea why you agreed to do this. It probably has a lot to do with the words Mando used, how he asked you and when he asked you.

“I know someone who can watch the baby,” he had said, murmuring in your ear under the cover of darkness. “I need you to come with me. Will you?”

Need— that one little word is what made you say yes, heart jumping in your throat the second you heard it. And what a sound it was, dripping from Mando’s tongue raw, the static of the modulator not touching a single bit of the word. It’s like he knew you couldn’t say no to him then, not when he was naked and laid out beside you in the pitch-black hull, helmet off— no creed to abide by, no business to attend to, just him. Then he’s talking about needing your help, insinuating that he wants you to assist him bring in bringing in this bounty, and well… It hit all the right spots inside you, the raw ones that need gentle handling, and you said yes without second’s hesitation.

Since it all began, what you and Mando do together in the dark has felt vaguely unreal, the sex and the talking and the vulnerability of it all so foreign and ridiculous in the light of day. But you this right here, this strip club on Corellia? It’s realer than real, your senses overloaded by the sights and sounds, by the smells and textures. Your first instinct is to turn right back around, but Mando’s got you by the arm, gently leading you through the room.

“Find a table near the stage,” he tells you, speaking in your ear to be heard over the thudding, fast music. “I have to meet someone. Send me a comm immediately if you see the quarry, alright?”

All you can do is nod, distraught as Mando abandons you near the front of the club. You watch him walk away, colorful lights bouncing off the beskar as he goes, and then you do as you’re told, taking a seat at a table as far away from other patrons as possible.

Alone and completely out of your element, you have no idea how to act. You suppose you should try to blend in, but you feel shy watching the show. The women are half-naked and unbelievably beautiful, practically levitating as they perform onstage. You have no idea how they’re doing half of what they’re doing on their poles, and you envy their sex appeal, their confidence. You’d sooner die than give one of these patrons the time of day, but to watch them fawn over the dancers and give them money does make you feel just the slightest bit less-than. You could never be so bold as to work a job like this one, and the attention, well… Nobody’s ever going to look at you like that, not even the most desperate man, and you’re sure as hell never going to have anyone throwing credit after credit your way like it’s their honor to do so.

“It’s okay if you want to look, honey. Nobody’s going to judge you, not in here.”

The sound of a voice above you has you jolting in your seat, your train of thought crashing and then disappearing like it never existed in the first place. You look up to see who’s addressing you, only to find that it’s not a someone at all, but a goddess. Never in your whole life have you been this close to someone so gorgeous, and you finally understand what it means to be struck speechless by a person’s beauty.

The woman seems to sense what you’re feeling, and a small, almost satisfied smile creeps over her perfectly painted mouth. She leans down, her curtain of thick, silky red hair swinging, and you catch the scent of something spicy all around her. Perfume, you think, but not the cheap kind. “Are you here all by yourself, baby?”

Something in your brain sputters back to life, and you’re able to speak again.

“No,” you blurt, “I— I’m here with my friend. He has to talk to someone.”

The second the words leave your mouth, you feel like you’ve said too much, done too much— your gaze went straight to Mando when you started talking about him, and the redheaded goddess is looking dead at him now. And that’s just what he needs, more attention than he’s already getting with all that beskar on his body. Mando always puts a premium on secrecy, especially during his hunts, yet here you are spouting off all his business to someone you just met. Fucking unbelievable.

“The Mandalorian is your friend?”

You couldn’t lie to this woman, not even if you wanted to, and so you find yourself nodding before you can think about what you’re doing. She looks back at him one last time, the jewels on her skimpy costume flashing, and then you’re the object of her full attention once more.

“Loosen up, honey,” she says to you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face with a soft, manicured hand. “I’ll send you a drink on me.”

The goes the way she came, disappearing more than she walks away. A few minutes later, a waitress does come by with a drink for you, but you still don’t have the nerve to turn your gaze towards the dancers. No, instead you keep your eyes essentially glued to the floor, only peeking up now and then to glance at Mando. He’s still at the bar every time you look, stock still and unbothered, almost like a statue someone affixed to the stool he’s seated on.

About the fourth time you do this, you’re startled to find that Mando’s no longer alone, accompanied now by the very same redhead that bought you a drink. She’s just as stunning at distance, perched on the stool like it was made for her, hair shining under the lights. The shape of her body had been lost on you before, but it would seem that that, too, is utter perfection. Jealousy flashes up inside you when Mando leans in close, giving her his full attention as she talks. Whatever’s being said must be important, the set of her face serious as she listens to him in turn. Eventually, the conversation wraps up, and then Mando’s coming to collect you from your table. The two of you leave together, and you’ve never been more relieved to get back to the Crest.

Though your little jaunt into Corellia’s night life was anything but, the rest of your evening is routine. You and Din collect the Child from his friend, you make dinner when you get back to the ship, and when the baby falls asleep, Mando cuts the lights and fucks you for the better part of an hour. You’re left sated and sleepy by the end of it all, already dozing off as Mando cleans his cum off your stomach with a rag.

Mando had you in his arms when you finally went out for good, but you wake up cold and alone, blinking sleep out of your eyes in the dimness of the hull. You pull on a new pair of underwear and a loose shirt, stumbling back towards the armory after a quick check on the baby. He’s still sound asleep, but you know Mando’s up and about if the noise in the back is anything to go by.

Sure enough, you find him cleaning his blaster, perched on a crate with some supplies laid out nearby.

“Hey,” is all Mando says to you, barely looking up from his work. You feel it still, though, the way he reaches out to pinch the back of your thigh as you walk to the pantry, and that makes something warm bloom in your chest.

It’s quiet for a while, just you munching on your snack as Mando works on his weapons. There’s a clink here and there, a crinkle of the bag in your hands, but neither one of you speaks at all. As you sit there and watch Mando clean and count and calibrate, you can’t help but think back on all that’s happened today, on the club and that woman who spoke to both of you. The smell of her perfume is still vivid in your mind.

The smell of her perfume, and the way Mando sat so close to her.

“That woman you met with tonight was nice,” you say slowly, trying to fish for information without being too obvious. You’d like to know if Mando knew her before tonight, and how he came to discover that club at all. There’s so much of his life that predates you, so much of his history that you’ll likely never know, and it’s times like these when that fact comes into sharp focus.

Mando doesn’t even raise his head. “She liked you.”

That makes you flush. “We didn’t even talk for five minutes.”

“She liked you anyway.” Finally, you earn yourself a glance. “Sypha’s just like that.”

Sypha. Even her name is sexy.

“You know her?”

“She’s a friend,” Mando affirms, shrugging. “A lot of people pass through her place. She’s always good for information when I need it.”

You nod, trying to stay causal. “How did you two meet?”

“We know some of the same people. I cut her in a bounty, Maker, what, five years ago maybe? Anyway, I’ve kept in touch ever since. Like I said, she sees a lot of faces.”

That genuinely makes a lot of sense, but you know that Mando doesn’t consider just anybody a friend.

“Have you had sex with her?”

It’s risky question, and you’ve really got no right to ask it. But since you and Mando started hooking up, you’ve always wondered what he’s comparing you to in his head, always wanted to know how you measure up to the women he’s had in the past. Call it jealousy, call it insecurity, hell, call it self-absorption— in any case, you just want to know. You have to know.

Mando’s hands go completely still, abandoning his work in his lap as he raises his head to look at you. You feel small and helpless before him, and you wonder if he knows that he had your dignity, your ego, and, most importantly, your heart clenched between his teeth. Just the slightest bit of pressure, one puncture from a sharp, dismissive word, and he could destroy all three.

“Yeah,” he finally says, “a few times. But that was back in the day.”

A few times stings, but he’s not exactly telling you to fuck off and mind your own business. You know you should quit while you’re ahead, but you feel like a woman possessed, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Did you want to hook up with her tonight?” You take a breath, think about how that might have sounded. “I mean— If I wasn’t there, if I hadn’t been waiting for you, would you have gone in the back with her?”

You know he knows what you’re talking about, Mando’s not stupid. He saw how some of the dancers would lead patrons back behind a curtain and off into another part of the club, he saw it because you saw it, and Mando doesn’t miss a thing.

The blaster and his tools now fully abandoned, you know Mando’s appraising you, his gaze intense even behind the helmet. An apology sits poised right on the tip of your tongue the instant you’re done speaking, because who the fuck do you think you are? Mando’s girlfriend or something? And even if you were, even if he did call you his and show you off like that, he’s a grown man. He has a past, and he has a right to have a past, regardless of what it involves. Just because you’ve had sex with a grand total of two people in your entire lifetime doesn’t justify you being upset at the fact that Mando’s known more than one woman before you, whether he paid to know them or not.

“Sypha never took me in the back, not even back then.” Mando doesn’t sound upset, but the tone of his voice has certainly changed. “And no, mesh’la, I didn’t want to fuck her tonight, and she didn’t want me either. All that’s long gone between us. And even if she did ask, I wouldn’t have accepted. I wouldn’t make a fool of you like that.”

You must look as confused as you feel because Mando shifts on his crate, tilting his head your way. “Cyare,” he says, disbelieving, “do you really think I’d do that? Fuck some other woman while you’re here waiting for me to come back?”

It feels like somebody picked your brain up and shook it, all the thing you could say jumbling up in your head. “Well, we never… You never… I don’t know what I thought, Mando. I’m sorry.”

He sighs, deep and tired, but you don’t think it’s directed at you. “No,” he says, “I’m sorry. I don’t— I’m not good at this, and I know that. I’m not good at talking, especially when it’s about you, or what we do when the baby’s asleep, or how I feel. Just… Just know that when I meet with someone, whether you’re there or not, it’s all business. You’re the only one, alright?”

Once again, you have absolutely no idea what to say. You’re not sure you could talk around the lump in your throat anyway, even if you did have the words to express how you feel. Tears burn the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to cry, deciding that that would be entirely too dramatic.

“I know the fact that I’ve been with other people worries you—”

“It’s doesn’t,” you cut, lying through your teeth. You’d sooner die than have Mando think that you judge him for his past.

“It worries you,” he presses, “but it shouldn’t. You have something that none of them have ever had, something they’ll never get to have, period.”

Your heart leaps in your throat, thoughts racing. “What’s that?”

“My name.”

“But everyone calls you Mando. When—”

“No,” he says, speaking over you, “my actual name. The name my parents gave me.”

You think for a moment there that you’re still sleeping, that you never woke up from your little post-sex slumber and that this is all a dream. But no, Mando really is beckoning you over, gloved hands reaching out to grab hold of your waist as you lean in close. The two of you are alone on the ship, save for your sleeping baby, but even so, the whole thing is secretive, hush hush like a ritual. And you think that’s a fitting way to treat this, a fitting way to behave as Mando reveals one of his most closely guarded personal details.

“Close your eyes,” Mando commands, speaking softly, and your heart stops as you think of the lights— one false move, one flutter of an eyelid, and you’ll see it all. You’ll see him.

“Mando—”

“Close your eyes, mesh’la,” he repeats. “I trust you.”

Those last three words alone are enough to put your body on autopilot, and so you do as you’re told, eyes slipping closed. The sound of Mando removing his helmet is unmistakable, the beskar landing with a thunk beside him. Your stomach flutters when you feel his breath on your ear, the warmth of it so familiar and yet so foreign all at the same time.

“My name is Din,” he whispers, voice softer than you ever thought it could be. “Din Djarin. You can’t call me that in front of other people, but here when we’re alone, when we’re with the Child, you can say it all you want.”

“Din,” you say, experimenting with the name, trying it out on your tongue. A hand trails up and down, up and down, up and down the inside of your thigh, and so you sigh it again. “Din.”

“I like how you say my name,” Din tells you, and it takes all you have to keep your eyes clamped shut. “But I’m sure I’ll like how you moan it that much more. Go lie down, I’ll be there in a minute.”

You don’t have to be told twice.

[pennybells]

Consummation (warning, contains sexual content, occasional bad language)

As you gaze into each others eyes, his arms around your waist, you raise your hand to caress his face. He responds deeply to your touch, and covers your hand with his, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, he kisses your palm tenderly, then places your hand on his chest. His heart is pounding as fast as your own, and you can resist each other no longer. You lean into him, and kiss for the first time. His full red lips are soft and sensuous, and his kiss is intoxicating, flooding your body with raging desire, you have never felt so alive.

When you pull away, you stare into his beautiful face, you can see the lust in his eyes, it matches your own, and in that moment, you realise that you are about to be fucked by a monster. It's all the encouragement you need, and you smash your lips into his. He deepens the kiss and you explore each others mouths with ardour. Without warning, he grabs your hair and pulls your head back exposing your neck. He kisses, licks and gives you a little bite occasionally, and you gasp with pleasure. Lost in your lust, he scoops you up and gently lowers you onto the animal skins and lays down on top of you. He feels so good, and kisses your sweet mouth again, and you run your fingers through his auburn hair, it is so soft, and he seems to like you doing this, moaning into your mouth as he kisses you harder. You wrap your legs around him, and he starts to grind against you. Whatever it is hidden in his pantaloons is huge, hard and screaming to be freed.

As you writhe together in unbridled passion, he traces one gloved hand from your chin to your navel, and slides it under your top, stroking your belly. He grabs the hem with both hands, and you arch your back to allow the garment to slip over your head. For a few seconds he stares at your bra. "This is pretty, cerise coloured lace, it is beautiful against your skin, but now it is coming off."

With the skill of an expert lover, he unhooks the back and slides it down your arms, freeing your breasts. "Oh, what have we here? Toys for Penny to play with!"

He lowers himself onto you and kisses one of your nipples, then suddenly pulls back. He is fascinated that it has hardened because of his kiss. He gives the other nipple the same treatment with a little bite that makes you wince, but sends shock waves to your sex. "Eeee he he he heeee," he giggles like a child, a sound that is music to your ears.

He continues his exploration of your body, placing gentle kisses on your belly whilst you stroke his hair. Your need for him is reaching fever pitch. "Penny, I want you naked, but I need you to show me how to get this costume off."

"All in good time my sweet, I haven't finished undressing you yet."

He sits up and removes your shoes and socks, then tickles your feet, making you cackle like a maniac. This makes him laugh too, and you feel like you are two star crossed lovers.

When he stops tickling you, he pulls down your pants, leaving you naked except for your panties.

"You are beautiful, I have waited so long for you, and I am going to make you mine, forever."

With a Devilish glint in his eyes, he removes your panties and lays down on top of you. The feeling of the silver silk of his costume on your naked skin drives you wild. You wrap your arms and legs around him whilst you kiss passionately.

As you caress his body, he sits up and starts to remove his costume. First he undoes the ruff around his neck, slowly, teasing you. Then he reaches behind his waist where there is a secret fastening to remove his belt. He tickles your nose with the pompom and steals a quick kiss. You can see there are hook fastenings behind the pompoms of his jacket, you reach up to undo them, and he stares into your eyes with raging desire as you unhook each one. He slips the jacket off, which reveals another layer of fabric attached to his pantaloons. There is a zip which starts at his neck and stops where the pantaloons begin. You pull the zip down, and he slides the garment down his arms. To your surprise, he suddenly stands up. He towers above you, and he lets the pantaloons fall to the floor and steps out of them. You can now see just how big the bulge in his pants is, and you know instantly that you are about to be pleasured in a way most women could only dream of.

He drops to his knees, and removes the white silk shirt which is the last piece of clothing on his upper body except his white gloves. Slowly and seductively he peels them off, and you realise just how long his fingers are. He cups your breasts in his hands and you close your eyes, his naked skin against yours is the most beautiful feeling, and as you enjoy his caress setting your body on fire, you feel his lips on yours. You run your hands down his back, pulling him closer. When you reach the waist of his pants, you slide your hands inside over his naked buttocks and he moans into your mouth, kissing you harder, his hands stroking every part of your body he can reach, and then he finally settles on your sex. Gently he strokes your pubic hair, and you close your eyes enjoying the eroticism of the moment, then he slides two fingers inside you.

"Ooooh, you are so wet for ol Pennywise."

"Yes Penny, that's what you do to me."

He slides his fingers in and out, whilst he massages your clitoris with his thumb, and you are so close.

"Please Penny, I need you inside me, I want you so much ."

He slowly withdraws his fingers and sits up, his fiery eyes burn into yours, they seem to see into your soul, and as he holds your gaze, he hastily removes his boots and socks, then his pants.

He stands in front of you in nothing more than a pair of white silk briefs, a wicked glint in his eyes. He laughs with a filthy gutteral laugh and you give him an ear splitting smile.

Slowly he removes his briefs and let's them fall to the ground.

He is a sight to behold, his body is as beautiful as his face. Incredibly tall, lean and perfectly toned, with an erection any mortal man would envy.

You stare at him, drinking in his physical beauty. His skin is flawless, and his erection is huge. Completely humanoid in form, but larger, not only in length, more importantly for you in girth. A light dusting of pubic hair as red as the hair on his head adorns his armpits and testicles, and you so want to bury your face in his testicles and take him in your mouth, but that would be a treat for another night, the first time he must be inside you for you two to become one, giving yourself to him completely.

He walks towards you with purpose and drops to his knees, climbing on top of you. Eyes burning with desire, drool dripping from his mouth onto yours, which you lick off and he smothers your mouth with his, fisting your hair. When he pulls away, he buries his face in your neck and holds you tightly. He doesn't move, it is as though his very existence depends on the warmth of your skin and curves of your body.

After a few minutes he starts to caress you, and you do the same to him, feeling the muscles of his back and arms. You are completely intoxicated, his sweet scent, the romantic setting, the sexual chemistry between you, is like nothing you have experienced before. He looks into your eyes, his erection pressed against your thigh.

"Fuck me Pennywise, fuck me hard."

He smiles at you wickedly, and places his enormous member at your entrance, and slides into you with ease.

"Aaaaaaahhhh," you both cry out in unison, overcome by the sensation. He fits you perfectly, stretching you to the max. You are all sensation, every nerve ending on fire. This entity that everyone calls a monster, in Its favourite form of a beautiful clown, who kills your own kind for sustenance, has chosen you to be his mate. This is real, visceral, dangerous, and you love it, and Him.

He starts to move, and it feels divine. He growls into your neck as he nuzzles you, and your hands begin to explore his wonderful body. He likes this, throwing his head back and his eyes rolling back into his skull, breathing through gritted teeth as he loses himself inside you. He kisses you hard, pinning you to the ground as he thrusts into you harder. His cock is so huge that it is almost painful, but this only intensifies your pleasure.

As he quickens the pace he becomes more animalistic, revealing the beast he truly is. The sounds he makes are inhuman, and every now and again he yips and cackles as he loses himself inside you.

Holding him tightly, you know that you cannot hold on much longer. He kisses, licks and bites your neck, then nibbles your earlobe with his buck teeth, and it is your undoing. You cum, harder than you ever have in your life, crying out his name repeatedly as your entire body goes into spasm. You have never felt pleasure like it, and as you come back down to Earth, He finds His release. Throwing his head back whilst pinning you to the ground, his claws digging into the soft flesh of your buttocks, he shoots load after load of his hot seed inside you. It is all you have ever wanted, and at last you feel complete.

He collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck and breathing hard in your ear. He is completely spent, and as you stroke his back, he starts to shake uncontrollably.

"Hey Penny, are you OK?"

His eyes meet yours, and you notice that his eyes have turned blue, and are full of genuine warmth. He kisses your mouth clumsily with trembling lips.

"Penny, did I just pop your cherry?"

He looks at you with an expression that you can only describe as coy, and you know that he is desperately trying to guard his ego, because you have discovered his secret. The only things that betrayed him were his shaking, and the fact that he was so fascinated by your nipples turning hard from his kiss. You would never have known otherwise, he was the most incredible lover.

"Oh Penny, how lucky am I."

You kiss his forehead, his cheeks and his mouth, and wrap your arms and legs around his beautiful body, cradling him, and eventually his shaking subsides.

Having calmed him, you notice he starts to breathe deeply, and to your complete surprise, he starts to make a noise that you can only describe as purring. It is the sweetest most adorable sound you have ever heard. This demon who eats children and everyone calls an evil monster, has not only given you the best sex of your life, not that you had been promiscuous, but you had enough experience to know the good, the bad and the completely useless, was an incredible lover, and purrs like a cat whilst asleep. He is adorable to you, and no mortal man could ever compare to him.

As you lay there in your post coital bliss, a thought creeps into your mind. You knew he had lived for eons, but he had been a virgin all that time, never having experienced the joys of the flesh. Sleeping most of the time, and waking only to eat. What a pitiful existence, no wonder he was angry all the time.

The thought is almost too painful to bear, and a silent tear rolls down your cheek onto his hair. You kiss his forehead and hold him tightly, as feelings of love for him wash over you, and in your heart you promise he will never be alone again as long as you have breath in your body.

You listen to his contented purring, and the sound of the water in the cistern. He is so heavy, but you have no intention of moving him, you bear his weight gladly, and as you lie there in your euphoric state, sleep finally overcomes you too.

[brelione]

Kind Of A Cinderella Story (Sarah Cameron X Reader)

 Request:37 from prompt list 2 with Sarah?+More Sara Cameron dating a Gardener pls

Warnings:This is trash and for some reason took me like three hours to write.Isnt proof read,implications of smut kind of.

Sarah was sick of her life.It was the same thing over and over again.She had to pretend to be this elegant,proper girl when all she wanted ot do was have fun.She felt like a puppet,being told what to wear and who to hang out with.She ahd been set up with countless kook boys that wanted nothing other than a girl to use as a sex object.She hated it.

Everyone thought that she was some perfect kook queen with no problems in her life but they couldnt be more wrong.People called her a whore for cheating on her boyfriends but all she wanted was to be loved.Like,genuinely loved for something other than her appearance.It was a process of trial and error.Ward would introduce her to one preppy kook boy with gelled back hair and toxic masculinity in a never ending cycle,hoping ot find the perfect fit.

Little did he know that she didnt want any kooks there was.She didnt even want any boys,no matter eif they were a pogue or a kook.Her heart was set on one pogue girl that didnt know how to match her pants to her shirt and had pierced her nose with a paperclip.She found her heart speeding up,trying not to smile or let out a nervous laugh whenever she saw said pogue even walk by.

You had always envied the kooks.While you worked at a bakery for 16 hours three days a week,living from pay check to pay check they were living it up in their huge mansions and getting their nails done with diamonds and gold.

You didnt even have a refrigerator or a microwave,you just kept what needed to be cold in a cooler that you had found on the side of the road two years ago.The bakery could only pay you so much so you decided that you might need another job.

It was either that or start stealing things.You chose the first option,unfortunately.Upon hearing that Ward Cameron was looking for someone to plant flowers and cut weeds in his garden you had volunteered for it.That’s what got you to this point,mud on your cheekbones,little scratches on your palms as you secured another bundle of impatiens into the soil.

The grass was still damp from the early morning rain,you were obviously tired and planning on going back to bed once you got back home.That was when the kook princess,Sarah Cameron,came running out of her house with a butter knife in her hand,demanding to know who you were and what you were doing in her backyard.You wiped your slightly bloody hands on your jeans,grinning.

  “Im the gardener,Ward hired me last week.”You explained,smiling when a look of realisation came across the kook’s face,dropping the butter knife into the grass. “Oh-im so sorry!Im Sarah,they didnt tell me they hired you so I got scared.”She looked down at the butter knife,a blush coming across her cheeks.

After that first encounters she was desperate to speak to you again,having to wait a whole week until you came around to pull the weeds from the garden.She had considered stomping on the plants so you’d be forced to stay around longer but that would be pretty rude of her if she wanted to make a good impression.She had checked the weather,seeing that it was gonna be over 100 degrees.

That meant she had a perfect reason to speak to you without being strange.She’d come out after ten minutes of you being there and offer you a cold drink inside and when you were distracted with your drink she’d ask you questions about yourself and then boom.

You two would fall in love.It sounded like a great plan in her head.The night before the day you were due to come over she had set a blue gatorade in the fridge,preparing.But then she saw you out her window and became weak.Her legs were shaking as she took the gatorade out of the fridge,pacing around the kitchen with teh bottle in hand,taking in big breaths as she prepared herself. 

With one last,deep breath she opened the back slider door,putting a smile on her face as she walked up behind you as you put long weeds into a bucket,your sleeves rolled up and sweat on your face. “Weather kind of sucks today,figured you needed a drink.”She licked her lips,wanting to redo.That just didnt sound right at all.You looked up at her,squinting from the sun that shined around her almost like a halo.

 “Thanks,climate change is a real bitch.”You took the gatorade,opening it and taking a sip,some of the blue energy drink dripping down your chin. “Oh my god,I know.Don't even get me started on whats happening with the sharks in New England!The government is full of shit!”She exclaimed,not as nervous as she had been before.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah,just like our oceans!In twenty years there will be more plastic than fish,I hate this world so much.”You sighed,sitting in the grass as you took another sip of the cold drink. “Do you want to come inside and talk about this?We’ll both get sunburned if we stay out here too long.”her hands went to her pockets,something that always happened when she was anxious.

You shrugged,standing up. “Yeah,ok.”You replied,following her.You were hesitant to actually step inside the house,figuring one of the tiles was probably worth your whole paycheck.You sat awkwardly at the counter,drinking the gatorade until there was barely anything left.

She grabbed you a water bottle and offered you a sandwhicih.You said yes of course,thanking her when a ham and cheese sandwich on a blue plate was placed in front of you. “You know what else I hate?”You asked,taking a small bite off the corner of the sandwich.She hummed,looking up. 

“How organizations protecting endangered species are being defunded by the government!It’s trash.”You sighed,becoming increasingly more angry.SHe nodded,agreeing. “Same with deforestation!If the government was taking away tv’s everyone would freak out but of course when they cut down our source of oxygen its fine!”She smacked her palms off the table.

 “I say we poison them all with wolfsbane and give Mother Nature her shit back.”You wiped some mustard from your cheek,making her grin.Once you finished the sandwich you insisted on getting back to work,groaning when the sun hit your skin again.She had sat by the pool,telling you that you could go for a swim when you finished working if you wanted to.

You tugged dandelions from the garden,it was your last task of the day which meant that you got it done as quick as possible,placing them into the bucket when you got a good idea.You took them back out,forming the weeds into a crown of yellow,grinning at your creation before presenting it to Sarah. “Figured the queen needed a crown.”Was al you said,placing it on her head before flashing a peace sign and beginning your walk home.

Sarah waited another seven days to see you.The sun didnt shine so bright,her hair felt lifeless and her smile just couldnt look right.She felt herself falling for you,not even bothering to fight off the feelings.Tuesday night,the night before you would be coming over she prepped herself.She made a ham and cheese sandwich with mustard and lettuce,wrapping it up and putting it in her fridge along with a blue gatorade.

She practiced how to do a cute bun that she had seen on her pinterest feed,picking out an outfit that would make her look nice without being too over the top.She ended up showering at two in the morning,making sure she would smell nice and her hair wouldnt be greasy.She woke up with drool tunning down her chin,her alarm loud.She groaned,wiping her face and checking the time.

She had a text from her dad to let her know that he and Rose had taken Wheezie to the beach and Rafe was off doing whatever it was that Rafe does.She sat in her living room,staring out the window as she waited for you to appear and walk around her house into the backyard.She grinned when she saw you,light overalls and a rainbow striped shirt,deep tan work boots and a tired look on your face as you opened the gate in the fence,walking around to the backyard.

She let out a soft sigh as she wiped her hands on her shirt,making sure there were no wrinkles as she grabbed the sandwich from the fridge,tucking it under her arm and holding the gatorade in her hand,opening the slider door with the other.She closed it,the hot humid air hitting her in a huge contrast from the cold air conditioned house.

 “Hey,Sar.”You grinned,noticing that there wasnt much work that need to be done today.She held out the wrapped up sandwich to you along with the drink,crossing her arms awkwardly. “Do you want to come inside?”She asked,peeling at her white nail polish.You licked your lips,standing up and brushing off your pants before picking up the gatorade and sandwich,sitting at the kitchen table and eating. “So like,can I ask you a question?”She asked,leaning her elbows on the table.

You raised an eyebrow at her,swallowing the sandwich that you had in your mouth with a swig of gatorade. “I hate when people ask that.Are you gonna ask if I murdered someone cause the answer is no.”You said quickly,trying not to let your brain run wild.

You hadnt done anything wrong.Maybe you fucked up the order fo the flowers? “Oh,oh cool.But um….Like,what would you do if I accidentally kissed you?”She asked,making your eyes widen.Her heart beat only got quicker as the monet of silence lasted longer,a tension growing between the two of you.

 “I dont know...thats never happened before.”You answered,avoiding her eyes.She blushed,leaning down quick and pecking your lips,pulling away just as quick. “Love that.”You answered,biting your lip lightly,trying not to laugh. 

“Love you.”She answered,her face beet red.You smiled,looking up at her. “Love you too.”You answered,hearing the door open a few seconds later,Wheezie walking in,her skin slightly more tanned than it had been when she left. “Uhh...hi?”She frowned,looking at you but deciding not to question it before going up the stairs and into her room.

Ward and Rose came in soon after her,the same look on their faces. “Arent you the gardener?”Rose asked,coming into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of wine. “She’s done with her work for the day.”Sarah answered quickly,looking over to Ward.

He didnt say anything,feeling that there was something going on between the two of you but deciding to stay quiet.You and Sarah had been dating in somewhat secrecy for a month and you no longer came over on just Wednesday’s to pull weeds.You came over pretty much everyday,going swimming or going to the beach with your lovely girlfriend.

You laid on your stomach on her bed,head on one of her many pillows,the show Lucifer playing on her large tv. “We should do something.”She spoke confidently,a mischevious grin on her face.You sighed,sitting up. “Like what?”You asked,knowing that she would probably suggest something ridiculous.

She smirked,grabbing her purse. “We’re gonna go shopping.”It wasnt even a question,just a straight out statement.You shook your head,going back to laying down when she grabbed at your ankles,trying to drag you off the bed. “Please?”She pouted,trying to get you to crack.

You simply rolled your eyes,reminding her that you didnt have the money for that type of thing.She sighed,grabbing your hands and pulling you up but you refused to go down without a fight,purposely pushing her backwards by wrapping your arms around her like a toddler. 

“No.”You muttered,your nose in her blonde hair.You stared ahead of you,passing by trees and large houses,getting to the rich kook side of the island near the shopping boutiques and gold clubs. “I hate you.”You sighed as she pulled into a shop parking lot,a grin on her face. “I love you too.”She answered,opening the car door for you and making you get out. 

“What if I buy you icecream after?”She asked,trying to get you to be less miserable,succeeding when your face lit up. “Like the fancy kind in a dipped waffle cone with the sprinkles?”You asked,willing to try on clothes if it meant getting to the sweet cold treat.

She nodded,complying with your request,holding your hand and bringing you inside.It didnt feel right for you to be here,even the lights looked expensive.There werent even carts,fabric bags instead.Thats how you could tell just how expensive everything here would be.  “Sarah,this is ridiculous.”You mumbled as she dragged you over to some t shirts that had stripes but even they looked expensive,the material thick and durable between your fingers.

You gripped the price tag,eyes widening. “This shit is $130!”You exclaimed,letting go of it.She smiled,shaking her head. “Suck it up,buttercup.”Was all she had to say,finding your size and placing it into the fabric bag when a worker came up to the two of you. “Can I help you ladies?”He asked.You answered a wuick no but was overpowered by Sarah. “Yes,yes please.

Im thinking a whole new vibe for her,maybe like eighties meets surfing.”She tried to explain her ideas,somehow the sentence made sense in the man’s head as he guided the two of you through the store,showing you both sundresses,ripped jeans,pastel collared shirts,headbands and earrings.

He watched from a far as Sarah held up the clothing next to your body,holding others near your hair as she tried to decide on what she wanted you to try on.She decided a light yellow shirt,some light washed jeans,a pair of shorts that were dark blue with gold stars,a purple sweatshirt with the word ‘lovely’ on it,a set of cream colored underwear with a matching bra,a gold headband with flowers on it,a pair of boyfriend jeans,or as she called them,girlfriend jeans.

You didnt even give an opinion on any of the clothes she was putting into the bag,thinking about what kind of icecream you were going to get,snapping out of your thoughts when she told you to start trying things on.

She had requested that you took mirror pictures in everything you tried on and asked that you send them to her as she went to the jewelry counter,supposedly getting a spot on her gold necklace fixed.You took your time trying on clothes,trying not to become to insecure about it.

You took the photos quickly,plowing your way through the outfits,getting to the set of bra and panties.You slid on the underwear over the ones you were already wearing,seeing the sign on the dressing room wall that said not to try on undergarments on your bare body.You simply pulled on the bra over your breasts,not seeing a policy for that.

The fabric was soft and the bra held up your breasts perfectly,the cream colored lace straps tickling your skin.You snapped a few photos in the set,feeling a bit of heat rush to your face when the door opened,Sarah sticking her head in. “Are you checking yourself out?”She asked,a smirk on her face.You placed your hands over your face,laughing.

 “Shut up.”You answered,letting her see what you looked like in the set.She did indeed shut up,biting her lip as she looked you up and down. “Yeah,we’re buying that.”She nodded,asking to see the photos and closing the door behind her.You scrolled through the photos,her head on your shoulder and kissing it lightly as she looked at them,nodding.

 “Ooh that sweater is cute as hell.”She took the phone,zooming in. “So lets go look at some bathing suits and maybe get you some more bras...and then we can leave.”She grinned,gulping as she tried not to let her thoughts get the best of her.

You changed back into your normal paper thin striped shirt,shitty bra and overalls,putting the clothes back into the bag and walking back out,seeing her sitting in the chair with a grin on her face as if she knew something you didnt. “Look at how cute this bikini is!Your boobs would look good-we’re getting it.”She said quickly,putting a white one piece into the bag.

 “Sarah-this is gonna cost like,a million dollars.”You grumbled,not really approving what your girlfriend was doing.She rolled her eyes,not worrying about it as she grabbed an ash colored bralette and underwear set,finally done picking clothes for you,dragging you to the counter to pay.You werent paying attention to anything the cashier was saying,only watching the total go up until it hit the point of $830.

What the actual fuck?Sarah simply swiped her card,taking the white and gold paper bag with a grin,pulling you along as you tried to get over the fact that she had just payed so much so carelessly.You two ended up back in the car,the bag in the backseat as you were still struggling to wrap your head around it. 

“You okay?”She asked,noticing the look on your face. “You just spent an entire month of bills on clothes.”You whispered,making a smile come across her face. “That’s okay.”She answered,backing out of the parking lot and making her way to the icecream shop.

 “Do you want to go to the beach to eat our icecream or do you want to go back to the house and model for me?”She asked,hoping you’d pick the second option.You shrugged,not really caring as long as you got your icecream. “yeah,you’re modeling for me.”She decided for you,turning on the radio. “Yeah?”You asked.

She hummed in response.The drive was quiet,your chin on your palm,the cool air of the air conditioning on your skin and the hot of the sun on your arm. “I feel like Cinderella right now.”You admitted,making the blonde laugh. “What do you mean by that?”She asked,curious.

You shrugged,turning down the radio. “I mean,you’re my beautiful fairy goddess and you just bought me some kook clothes and i’m used to cooking for people and pulling weed from rich people’s gardens...its like im becoming one of you.”You mumbled,her hand squeezing your thigh. 

“You say it like we’re vampires, (Y/N).”She shook her head,pulling up to the icecream parlor,getting out of the car.You both walked up to the metal counter,looking at the menu.She got the same thing everytime.A  medium cotton candy scoop in a chocolate sprinkled cone with whipped cream.

It was colorful and over the top,just like her.You decided on a rainbow milkshake which was layers of cotton candy icecream,strawberry,black raspberry,orange creamsicle and lemon all in one cup topped with whipped cream.

After getting your icecream you two went right back to the car,Sarah playing Lucifer on her phone and placing it between the two of you as she struggled to eat her icrecream quick enough so it wouldnt fall off or melt.She rested her icecream cone in the cupholder,driving back to the house,running up to her room with you close behind her,the white and gold bag tucked under her arm.

She ate the cone,getting to the end of it when she asked you to try on the bathing suit.You rolled your eyes,stripping of your overalls and t shirt,earning a quiet whistle from her.You sent her a quick wink,pulling the bathing suit up your body,pushing your arms through,your cleavage showing. 

“Yeah,I was right.Your boobs look great.”She grinned,opening her drawers and picking out her pink bathing suit,changing into it right in front of you. “Lets go out to the pool.”She suggested,grabbing two towels from her drawer.The two of you sat in the cool water,the sun making it hard to look at. “I’ve got to get back to the house soon.”You mumbled,floating on your back.

She frowned,standing up in the shallow water. “Why?Cant you just sleep over?”She asked,not wanting you to go.You shook your head,figuring that it wouldnt be wise to spend another night. “I cant let the place get messy.”You answered,wringing out your hair.She pouted,understanding. 

“You have to leave now?”She asked.You shrugged,sitting on the steps. “Probably soon,i’ve got to check the mail too.”You replied,stepping onto the hot concrete.She sighed,lifting herself out of the water and offering you a ride home.

You said yes,giving her a quick kiss before leaving the car,your backpack clinging to your shoulders,the store bag in hand. “I love you.”She grinned as you closed the car door. “Love you too,pretty girl.”You replied before going inside your small house.It was hot,dust on the counters and cabinets.

The coolers ice had melted,leaving cans of sprite to float in the water that was left.You sighed,going into your room and letting your backpack fall onto your mattress that stayed on the floor.You took the clothes from the store bag,putting them on hangers and letting them hang in your closet,far away from the one other pair of overalls you owned.You grinned at the splash of color in your dull home,ending up falling asleep on your stomach on top of your mattress,face in the blankets you had collected over the years.

Sarah looked in the mirror at her tube top that was covering a honey colored bralette that you liked so much,a pair of white jeans over matching yellow panties that you liked so much.

She tied her hair into a messy bun,letting out a soft sigh,grabbing her keys and getting ready to surprise you at your house.It had only been a few hours but she already missed you.She jogged down the stairs quick,close to leaving when Rose interferred. 

“Where are you going?”She asked,looking at the outfit.Sarah cursed in her head,turning to look at her step mother. “Out.”She replied,not in the mood for her bullshit.Rose crossed her arms,a knowing smirk on her face. “Out where?”She pushed,acting like an annoying fifth grader.Sarah completely understood where Wheezie got it,Rose equally as annoying as the thirteen year old. 

“Out on a date.”Sarah answered,glaring.Rose’s eyebrows furrowed,surprised. “Yeah?”She asked,raising an eyebrow.Sarah nodded. “Yeah.”She repeated,hand on the door knob. “With who?”Rose asked,really testing Sarah’s patience.

 “With someone im interested in.”Sarah replied,venom dripping from her voice. “Hes got a job?”Rose asked.Sarah nodded. “Yeah.”She answered,sick of this interrogation. “What does he do?”Rose asked.Sarah rolled her eyes,nearly laughing at how clueless she was.

 “Gardening.”Sarah replied,squeezing the door knob tightly.Rose frowned,a sympathetic smile on her face. “Sarah,he’s probably gay.”She whispered.Sarah chuckled,opening the door. “Yeah,she is.”Sarah answered,slamming the door behind her.

When she showed up to your house she let out an anxious sigh,standing at your door.She had never actually been inside before,knocking gently.Of course you couldnt hear her in your sleep though.She opened the door,frowning at the built up dust and lack of color.

She found your room easily,the one room that had a door.She knocked on it,not hearing anything and growing concerned,opening it quickly.She calmed down when she saw you asleep on your matress,hair messy.She smiled,taking a photo and sitting down on the mattress next to you.Your eyes fluttered open,squinting up at her. “Hi.”She smiled down at you.

You sat up,confused.The sun was nearly completely down,teh sky pink and purple. “Sarah?”You asked.She nodded,a grin on her face. “What are you doing here?”You asked,not really understanding why she was in your house or why she would want to be in your house.

It was messy and small and you hadnt been ready for her to see it yet.She shrugged,laying down with you. “I dont know,I missed you.”She shrugged,arms around your waist and head on your chest.You smiled,kissing her head. “I didnt end up cleaning,got tired I guess.”You replied,enjoying the warmth of her body.

She pouted,sitting up straight. “Its hot in here.”She mumbled,making you frown. “I mean yeah,I dont have air conditioning so-”You stopped talking when she peeled off her shirt and shorts,leaving her in one of your favorite sets that she owned.You nodded,agreeing. “Yeah,it is hot in here.”You agreed.

@outerbongs​  @copper-boom​  @httpstarkey​ @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl​  @simonsbluee   @jiaraendgame  @khiaraaa-in-spacee​  @on-socks-off​  @poguestyleskye​ @jjtheangel​  @dannii-li​ @lovelyelinor​​

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[bnhayyy]

Caution and the Inverse

Wordcount: 2.6k

Ao3 Link: Click

Summary: Historia comes home to find that her girlfriend had a near-miss with a vampire slayer. Ymir is more concerned about the shirt she ruined.

Notes: This technically takes place between the second and third scene of the third chapter of The Call, but can be read without reading it. Also, thank you to @celadongirl​ and @mavzell​ for looking this over for me before I posted it!

A groan arose from the apartment the instant she walked through the door. 

"Historiaaaaaaa."

The corners of her lips twitched up at the sound. She couldn't help it; after being called "Krista" all day, it was nice to hear someone call her by her name. Especially that someone - even if her deep, melodious voice was pitched up in a probably-overdramatic whine. 

She didn't bother locking the door; there was no need with Ymir around. 

Abandoning her supplies on the kitchen table, she strode into the living room with a gentle jibe on her lips. It was rare for Ymir not to walk her back from her evening art class. She could look after herself well enough to handle the walk from campus to her apartment, but she would be remiss to skip out on an opportunity to tease her girlfriend. Especially since it was usually Ymir doing the teasing; her opportunities to turn the tables were made that much more precious by their rarity. 

"Yes, you'll see that I have successfully-" 

Her words died off as she stepped into the living room and took in the sight before her. Ymir was sprawled across the couch, shirtless and with her hair falling loosely over her shoulders. Historia would have deeply appreciated the sight were it not for the gaping wound in her shoulder. 

Only inches away from her heart. 

"Ymir!" Historia cried. One hand flew up to cover her mouth, although it did nothing to stop the pickling in her eyes. Horror, sadness, stress - and maybe, if she was honest with herself, anger. 

"Historia," Ymir repeated, lifting her head to shoot her a look that was somewhere between a pout and a scowl. "You wouldn't believe what happened to that shirt you gave me."

“Nevermind the shirt!” Historia exclaimed. “What happened!?” She rushed forward as she spoke. Now that she was closer, she could see that Ymir had draped a towel down across the couch. It was spotted with a few bloodstains, but most of them seemed well on their way to drying. Unsurprising; vampires generally didn't bleed much.

So the fact that she had been bleeding that much at all...

Ymir started to shrug, then winced when she jostled her wound. "Turns out slayer one isn't totally incompetent," she said.

Historia's heart skipped a beat as the chill of dread began to wash over her. "The slayer," she said, mouth feeling dry and ashy. Then, "you were provoking the slayer."

"I wouldn't say provoking," Ymir said. A tiny shift in her eyes made her suspect that this was a blatant lie. That and the simple fact that she knew Ymir. "More like testing the waters," she continued. "Big boss vampire like me lurking around, she was about to find out about me eventually. I'd rather it be on my terms than hers."

Historia allowed her expression to fall into something icy and serious. This whole situation was hardly a surprise. She knew that Ymir had been wanting to try her hand against a slayer for a while, and if there really were two of them now, then she wouldn't be able to resist tempting fate for long. That didn't make the situation any less painful and disappointing.

It didn't make it any less dangerous.

"Did you tell her that you don't kill people?" she asked.

Ymir snorted. "I don't think there are many slayers who'd believe that."

"She might," Historia insisted. "You could explain that-"

"-that I don't kill people because my girlfriend would be disappointed in me?" A harsh bark of laughter left Ymir's mouth. "I think that might actually make it worse."

"Ymir, she almost killed you," Historia snapped. "We have to do something to keep her from hunting you down."

For a moment, it looked like Ymir would respond with confidence and bluster; a reassurance about how she could take on a slayer if it came down to it, how she'd been anticipating a fight like this since she was turned. Or maybe she would take a different angle, place emphasis on how she'd be able to handle it quickly and easily. How, aside from this one incident, Historia wouldn't even know it was happening. How it would never place her in danger.

For a moment, it looked like Ymir would rattle off an inflated excuse or empty words. Instead, she took a long look at Historia's face and faltered.

"I'll figure something out," Ymir finally relented. "But I don't want to play my hand too early. Something's going on, and I'm not going to let it catch us off guard."

Historia frowned. There was a lot that she wanted to say. However, before she could give voice to any of it, her gaze was drawn back to Ymir's wound. Not that her attention had ever actually left it. That was rather impossible, given its sheer size, the ragged nature of it, and what it represented.

"I'll be right back," Historia murmured.

As she walked away, Ymir called, "gonna patch me up?"

Despite everything, Historia smiled. "As if you weren't waiting for me," she called back.

"I mean." Ymir's voice grew fainter as she entered the bathroom. However, it was still loud enough to resonate through the little apartment. She could even picture the expressions she was sure she was making. "Who wouldn't, if they had a cute girlfriend to play nurse for them?"

Where her girlfriend's voice seemed to resonate effortlessly, Historia had to strain a little for her reply of, "lazy!"

When she looked into the bathroom mirror, her smile had grown from the small exchange. She felt it fade when she pulled the little door the mirror was on forward to reveal the shelves tucked behind it - and the first aid kit resting on one of them.

Vampires. Slayers. For all of their differences, they were very much the same in one regard. Even the very strongest of them could be just down if they had just one bad day.

And there never seemed to be anything Historia could do to stop it.

She grabbed the first aide kit and closed the cabinet door. With the mirror back in place, her own expression stared back at her. Her smile had been replaced by a look that was tired and haunted.

After a moment of staring, she forced a smile back into place. Bright, cheerful, warm, perfect, it was the exact sort of smile that people would expect from Krista Lenz. Which meant that Ymir would see through it in a second.

That was fine. Right now, Historia needed to know that she at least tried not to let her girlfriend see that it was getting to her more than she needed her to actually believe it.

Unsurprisingly, Ymir's expression, bright and playful in spite of her wound, faded into something concerned and suspicious the moment she saw her face. Historia felt a whisper of guilt for a moment, then immediately pushed it back down.

"What do you think's going on?" she asked as she approached the couch.

Ymir sat up, sweeping her legs to the side so that Historia could sit down, and angled her torso so that she could easily access the stab wound. Historia sat down, smile widening ever so slightly, and placed the first aid kit in her lap.

As Historia rifled through the kit, Ymir said, "it's the second slayer. Leonhart."

Historia paused. "Both of them were there?" she asked, struggling to keep the tenseness out of her voice.

"Nah," Ymir said. "I've just been watching both of them. The guys Leonhart lives with... I've met them before. I don't know if they'd remember me, but we've met before." She paused, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes; a sort of suspicion that edged in on condemnation. "They're vampires, Historia."

A jolt of shock ran through Historia. Nonetheless, she forced herself to open and disinfectant wipe and start cleaning Ymir's wound. There would be no need to worry about the wound getting infected; one of the benefits of being a vampire. However, she'd noticed that she had failed to clean the dried blood off the wound, and it wouldn't do to bandage her but leave that mess underneath. She cleaned in delicate swipes, careful not to inflict any further pain, although she knew that Ymir almost certainly wouldn't show it if she caused any. That required a certain degree of focus, and that focus made her take a moment to respond.

"You mean Annie Leonhart, right?" Historia eventually asked. "And the guys she lives with are Reiner Braun and Bertolt Hoover?" She shook her head, although it was more an expression of general surprise than genuine disbelief. The past five years had taught her better than to dismiss anything as outright impossible. Even so, she pointed out, "I've seen Reiner in the sunlight before."

"Yeah," Ymir said. "That one threw me for a loop as well. He's definitely a vampire though. I didn't think it was real, but... I think he got his hands on the Gem of Amara."

"The Gem of Amara?" Historia asked.

"Magical, legendary gem that grants a vampire invulnerability," Ymir explained, her tone caught somewhere between envy and distaste. "It lets a vampire walk in the sunlight, take a stake to the heart, prevents decapitation - as long as they're wearing it, they're unkillable."

"Oh," Historia murmured. "That... sounds like it could be problematic." Disastrous.

"Oh? I thought you were against hastily judging people?" Ymir teased.

"You're the one saying you're suspicious," Historia shot back.

The blood was more or less washed away now. It wasn't perfect, but it was as close as she could get without being more forceful. She leaned over to set the bloody wipes on the side table before opening packets of gauze and padding.

Meanwhile, Ymir's expression fell away into something more somber. "For good reason. Those guys are bad news. The people they work for..." She glanced up at the ceiling as she trailed off. Historia suspected that it was to keep her from getting a good look at her eyes. From what little she could see, they had a distant, almost lost quality to them, the sort that Ymir hated letting people see. Even her. She frowned, but focused on getting the wound dressing together instead of calling her out.

It was when she was about to press the dressing to her wound, fingers hovering centimeters away from her skin, that Ymir started talking again. "I don't know much about them, but last time I got involved with them, I died."

Historia sat there, frozen. She barely dared to breathe. But she had to. She had to breathe in order to ask, "they're the ones who...?"

"No," Ymir said. "A friend of theirs, and I took him down with me. They aren't even the reason it happened. But if they're here, it's bad news."

For a moment, all Historia could do was stare. Ymir was extremely guarded about her history. She'd never told Historia exactly how she was turned, only that it was violent. She'd certainly never told her that some sort of organization was involved, or that she'd apparently managed to take out the vampire who turned her in her final, dying moments as a human. It made her yearn to ask for more information. However, the very fact that it had taken almost three years for her to tell her this much told her that she wouldn't be getting any more. Not until Ymir was ready.

"You know the disappearances around your campus?" Ymir asked, breaking her out of her stupor.

"Of course," Historia said. As she spoke, she went ahead and pressed the dressing to Ymir's wound. She carefully ran her hands over the bandages to make sure that the adhesive edges would hold up. Once she was sure they would, her hands went still, but she didn't pull them away.

"I think they're the ones responsible for it."

"What?" Historia asked, horror leaking into her voice. "Shouldn't we do something then?" She let her hands drop to her lap, but Ymir caught one of them at the last minute and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Fuck no," Ymir said, her harsh voice a stark contrast to her gentle touch. "Ackerman's a slayer; let her figure it out. We don't need to put our asses on the line."

Historia frowned. "But you picking fights with the slayers won't."

"It's what they'd expect, and it'll let me keep an eye on the situation. Besides..." Ymir grinned. "I've only picked a fight with one slayer, and it wasn't a deathmatch or anything."

Historia's gaze drifted toward Ymir's wound. A wound obtained in something that was apparently not a deathmatch. "And do you plan on having one?" she asked.

Ymir's eyes softened. "Maybe once," she admitted. "But I wouldn't do that to you."

A painful smile tugged at Historia's lips. How broken and lonely was she if Ymir could so easily tell that she wouldn't be able to handle losing her? Still, she supposed she should be grateful. She knew how eager Ymir had been to fight a slayer, once upon a time. If her happiness was the incentive she needed to give up on that suicidal dream, then she would accept that.

With that, a thought drifted to the forefront of Historia's mind. Not one that she felt any sort of genuine hope for, if she was honest with herself, but one that felt worth voicing nonetheless. "Maybe Annie isn't with Bertolt and Reiner's group. Maybe they really are friends."

Ymir scoffed. "A slayer and a pair of vampires? Not likely."

Historia frowned. "Frieda thought humans and demons could co-exist," she murmured.

"And how long did Frieda last? A year and a half? Two?" Ymir's voice, while blunt, was not unkind. That didn't stop Historia from feeling a twist of grief in her chest.

"Nice slayers don't last long," Ymir continued. "And trust me, Ackerman and Leonhart aren't nice. They aren't going to be reaching out to any vampires any time soon." She leaned against the arm of the couch with a slight huff. "Besides, you need to remember that vampires aren't the sweetest creatures either. Even if they are friends on some level, there will have been an outside force that brought them together."

Historia stared at her girlfriend. She wanted to frown - the combination of the pain still rolling in her chest and what she had just said made her feel like she should be frowning. Even so, the slightest of smiles tugged at her lips. "You say that," she said, "and yet..."

"I'm not sweet," Ymir huffed. "And you aren't a slayer."

"Maybe," Historia acknowledged. "But-"

"But nothing," Ymir said. "I love you; the rest of the world could burn for all I care. Let the terrible trio ravage everyone else on campus if they want. I'm keeping an eye on this situation because I don't want us caught in a battleground between two slayers if it goes sour."

Historia stared at Ymir for a long moment. Aside from the bit about loving her, she couldn't tell how much of what she said was true and how much was a lie.

She supposed it didn't matter in the end. Historia was part of the world. Letting it burn would be counterintuitive to Ymir's priorities.

"Alright," Historia said, a small smile playing at her lips. "But for now nothing's burning, so... get to bed."

Ymir smirked. "Oh?"

"For rest," Historia deadpanned. "You aren't in the condition for anything else."

"You're no fun," Ymir sighed. "Join me anyway?"

Historia's smile widened and softened. "Of course."

[gyllenhaalstories]

SOUTHPAW, PART 1: HEADCANONS.

notes: dear anon: thank you for making me appreciate jake the rapper! also i know nothing about rap, so i’m sorry if this is pure trash! i never finished watching southpaw because it was too dark for me, but i took some very loose inspiration from it. warnings: mentions of dark past, mentions of sexual content... this got really long (2k words). gifs credits: alphalewolf. extras: if you want more informations about rapper!jake, please scroll through my blog. i have edited some older posts with the tag: topic: rapper!jake, so check it out if you’re interested. i have taken some ideas and put them in this list. (at the end of the list i provided some goodies!)

PART TWO WILL BE UPLOADED SOON, KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR IT!

attention, attention! please note i know absolutely nothing about rap. i very rarely enjoy listening to rap music, it’s simply not for me. this might be inaccurate and off compared to the actual world of hip hop and other similar genres. i apologize for my lack of knowledge! this is an au in which jake is not an actor or a producer or anything of the sort. his fame, he built it with his music. you must keep that in mind while reading these headcanons or else it will get confusing. also, i’ve taken some loose inspiration from jake’s actual work, but that’s just for the sake of backstory. are you ready to dive in this twisted fantasy?

Jake Gyllenhaal. Known as Hall. He exploded the charts after being picked up by one of the biggest record companies for his first album: Hall of Fame. He was a rookie, yet he was older than most of the rappers you can think of today. He worked his way up undercover. He started participating in poetry and slam nights at local cafés. He became a songwriter, through connections. He sold some songs that are absolute classics today, but he does not care. He did not feel like they fit him anyway.

Growing up, Jake had it rough. There was a lot of fighting at home. His older sister was the perfect angel and him? The absolute disaster child. It was not like he ran after danger and trouble, he seemed to always be at the wrong place in the wrong time, he hung out with the wrong crowd. He managed to avoid juvie on some miracle. What was the miracle, you might ask? He was caught robbing some local bank with his “friends” and the cops, at first, did not believe he was innocent. While his friends were screaming and threatening the innocent clients of the bank, Jake actually tried to help them out of the building safely. The cops arrived at the same moment and thought he was keeping the strangers hostage. He was arrested on the spot. The other guys played the victims, blamed it all on Jake but it was only when Jake wrote the whole story, from the beginning where his friends manipulated him and made of him their puppet to when he felt this adrenaline rush telling him he needed to save the strangers that night. His writing was too sincere, too raw to be a web of lies. The police released him, but they kept an eye on him.

His escape were writing and music. He impressed all of his teachers at school. Talented, gifted, magical. That was how they described Jake at every parent and teacher meeting. Writing dumb sentences that made very little sense and playing with a guitar after school, that did not make his parents very proud compared to his sister who was on top of all of her classes and working hard for a future of wealth and success.

Music was his entire life. He would come home from school and blast music until he was called out for dinner. Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Heart, Pink Floyd, Metallica, name it. He liked it loud. He liked it weird. He liked it with a deeper message, with double meaning.

He worked all types of jobs, some legal and some not so much. He was saving money for college. He applied. He got in. He started his classes. He had big dreams, too, he had ambitions. Maybe he could his talent to good use? He wanted to study philosophy, literature, music, creative writing... Anything that required thought and depth. He made friends, there. He befriended the edgy punk guy, he had tattoos everywhere, he listened to the same bands, he was quiet but his essays spoke volumes.

Jake was disappointed, his illusions were broken. He hated the format of his classes, the feeling like his opinion and his inspiration did not matter, it was always about meeting some stupid requirements to please a rich professor who did not care about passion, about talent, about originality. Jake dropped out, soon followed by his friend. His friend was hired at a tattoo parlor and Jake hung out there all the time. He would stay up until 5 am, 6, 7, all night and all day long. He loved the clients there. He would write and read his writing out loud to the clients when they were tortured by the needle shooting the ink in their skin. Talented and gifted, they all the same thing.

He started to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

He wrote, not just stories and opinion pieces. He started writing songs, melody and lyrics. He started playing them, he started writing his own poetry too. He was introduced to freestyle battles. And as he fought against other talented thinkers, he noticed he spoke with a tempo, with a rhythm. He was rapping and he did not even realize it.

His career sky rocketed from the moment a music producer attended one of the rap battles. He was famous, he got quite the thick wallet and the connections. Jake was introduced to legends of hip hop. They all influenced him as his career grew to become something overwhelming and terrifying, yet thrilling and addictive.

Hall had a style of his own, though. It was romantic, yet absolutely disgusting and dark. It was aggressive, yet vulnerable and philosophical. He spoke of his trauma, of his hatred, of his envy, of his fears... He used his songs as an escape. He was becoming his own escape.

And his own prison. His family did not care about him, he was a shame, even. Aside from his old college friend, he never built strong friendships. They were all after him for fame and cash. He slept around, guys and gals, threesomes, foursomes... He did not care, anything for some genuine connection, even if it lasted for a very lazy and messy fifteen minutes in the trashy bathroom of a concert hall. Rumour had it he was a great lover, but he was so bad at loving.

Now it gets interesting...

Hall rapped alongsides Eminem, Drake, Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott... The biggest pop stars were fighting just to get him to rap a line in their songs. Rihanna wishes he was the one singing Love the way you lie, does that give you an idea? He appeared on duets. He wrote more solo albums, sold them instantly. He never left the top of the billboard in weeks, months, if not years. It never really got to his head. He was still that sensitive boy writing about knights and princesses in his bedroom with walls covered by band posters. Fans did not care about this side of him, they loved him for his lyrics about snorting coke, drinking his pain away and fucking whoever wore the tiniest skirt around.

His latest album, Southpaw, was an even bigger hit. Pure filth. Pure gold. Imagine 13 tracks, Cardi’s and Megan’s WAP but reversed. He does not rap about how good he fucks people. He raps about how good they feel. That’s some real depth here, no pun intended.

You met him at one of his concerts. Your friend won VIP passes, so you were standing in the front and got to take a picture with him. You did not understand the hype around taking a photo with this guy, he just stood there and looked absolutely emotionless.

You hated rap, or perhaps you loved it. You did not care much for Jake, that was for sure. You thought he was just another lame rapper who thought he was the real deal because his lyrics were so explicit, even the clean versions made angels cry. The truth was, you did not know much a bout him. You found him too commercial, like he was scared of becoming irrelevant.

You saw right through him already.

But him? He already cared too much about you. You caught his attention as he rapped his songs. He could not take his eyes off you. You weighted heavy on his mind, caused him to stutter and forget lyricvs. Fans laughed, they said he was probably too drunk or too high too focus. Drunk in love, that’s what it was.

There was something about you. Maybe it was the Black Sabbath shirt you wore. Maybe it was the unimpressed look on your face. Maybe it was your plump lips he wanted to kiss. Maybe it was the sight of you laughing with your friend that made his heart skip a beat. Maybe it was the fact you treated him like a normal person even if you had not spoken to him first.

So, you met backstage.

Your friend was beaming from ear to ear, showering Jake in compliments.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jake asked you.

“For someone who shows no emotion, sound dead inside and look like they wish they were doing anything but making dozens of thousands of dollars by singing a couple of semi mediocre tracks, yeah, it was not that horrible.”

He was up for a challenge.

You two exchanged insults like it was a boxing match. Each round was getting more and more intense. It was no longer insults, it was straight up flirting. You noticed when your bodies were so close you could smell the scent of watermelon chewing gum that escaped from his warm breath. You could hear the way his raced even faster than yours.

You were snapped out of this fantasy by his bodyguard, indicating other fans waited for him.

He remembered the name your friend called out, saying he needed to bring you home before something bad happened.

It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard.

He hung out around that concert hall for the next couple of days. At the bar nearby, at Starbucks, at McDonald’s, anything for the sake of seeing your face again.

And he did.

You were walking out of the record store with a vinyl of Heart squeezed under your arm. You looked so happy. You had paint stains all over your clothes. You were erasing the memories of a terrible relationship by decorating your tiny apartment, and you needed to set the right ambiance. You needed guidance, you found it in the strong minds of the ladies behind Heart, in Joan Jett, in Stevie Nicks. You found your silver lining in music.

Jake ran behind you, he pretended he was out jogging and he mysteriously bumped into you. He grabbed your vinyl before it could fall on the ground.

“Nice pick.”

“We finally agree on something.”

Another round of flirty insults...

... That ended in the two of you fucking like animals on the floor of your apartment.

And fucking on the couch the next day.

On the kitchen counter the morning after.

And finally, on the bed. That was a really special one. Jake was the first person to be on your bed since the departure of your ex. He could feel that you were not in the mood for a rough battle for dominance.

That night, he made love to you.

For, quite possibly, the first time in his life, he expressed his love directly to somebody. “Princess, baby girl, beautiful, gorgeous, amazing”, he showered you in compliments, and praises. The slow movement of his hips, the intense passion in his eyes and love in his heart spoke louder than the music you were playing in the background to set the mood.

You were not just another trophee to hang on the wall. You were special.

He was special too.

He bought you every record that reminded him of you. He bought you collector items of your favourite bands. From the silliest decoration to a new car to replace your crappy one, passing by tickets to exclusive and sold-out shows, Jake had never felt more famous in his life than when he was with you.

His fans noticed the change in his songs, in his lyrics. They were just as explicit, just as rotten and just as corrupted. However, they came from a place of light and love, not of darkness and rage.

He sang about how good your felt when you climaxed around him. How drenched he was whenever he made you squirt. How he loved to taste himnself on your lips. How he was full of love and of lust for you. How he would quit everything if it meant he would live a normal life, for once, and with you.

You inspired so many songs that became massive world-wide hits.

You travelled the world with him on tour. You helped him design his new merch and you wore his t-shirts with pride. You attended concerts in your freetime. You loved staying up all night, painting and drawing while he was writing about this mirage of a goddess, blessing his existence with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes.

He was addicted to you.

He was crazy for you.

And he went crazy on you.

for research purposes and not because i wasted my time hearing eminem talk about stuff i don’t understand so i could stare at jake’s thighs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mP_cKP4OjsA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whV5oQDvVWE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGqC9URTJIQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5imXD1LPnwo

and finally, for good measure :

@gyll-yee-haw​ ily

[songtoyou]

Chapter Three: Don’t Then

Paring: Ransom Drysdale x Fabiola Rossi (OC)

Story Rating: This story will mostly be rated 18+ as it is revolves around a relationship that is Dominant/submissive. For each chapter, I will do my best to rate it accordingly, but please know that the overall story will have very adult themes.

Chapter Rating: Rated R.

Warnings: Swearing, BDSM themes, public hand job.

Word Count: 3,019

Story Summary: Huge “Ransom” Drysdale always thought of himself as a powerful man. With his family’s money and status, Ransom could get away with anything. He had the power and control others would envy. Ransom could get any woman he wanted with a snap of his fingers. He was always in charge. He commanded attention. And he hated it. Never having a job in his life (thanks to his mother, father, and grandfather always there to supplement his bank account) or any real-life goals, Ransom felt incomplete and directionless. That is until Fabiola Rossi entered his life and turned it completely upside down.

Chapter summary: Fabiola and Ransom go on their first date. They are having a good time until someone stops by to ruin the evening. 

A/N: It has literally been a year since I have updated this story. I apologize about that and hope to not take as long for the next chapter.

Bold font indicates text messaging.

I do not permit any of my fics to be distributed on other sites without my permission.

Taglist:  @winchwm, @patzammit​

With any sexual partner, it is vital to maintain the separation of fantasy and reality. Sexual activities deemed “kinky” do not always result in instant gratification moments like movies, books, and television tend to show. Many considerations need to be involved when partaking in the acts of BDSM, such as personal feelings and possible risks. It is crucial for the Dominant to not put his or her Submissive in any uncomfortable scenarios and vice versa. BDSM interactions need to be steeped in solid communication, along with the collaboration of willingness to take personal responsibility for one’s actions and choices.

For Fabiola, she was determined to make sure that Ransom understands the essential aspects of BDSM interactions. Since he was new to BDSM, particularly as a submissive, it was her duty to help guide him throughout this unique experience. It was a responsibility that Fabiola never took for granted when it came to being a Domme. It was her duty to protect and guide her Subs when playing a scene. She loved being a Domme.

Currently, Fabiola was standing beside her closet, picking our different outfits to see what would look best for tonight. She wanted something casual and nothing too fancy. So, Fabiola opted for her dark red bandage dress with strappy side cutouts, a halter neck, and an open back with zipper closure that flattered her figure. She accompanied the dress with a black bicker chic crop jacket. Fabiola adorned the ensemble with black peep-toe ankle boots with lace embroidery and buckles, along with a black clutch. Her long hair was curled to cascade down her shoulders in waves, with red lips and dark eyeliner highlighting her facial features.

Fabiola instructed Ransom to pick her up at 8:00 PM at her apartment, and not a minute over. One thing she wanted to do was implement structure and consistency with Ransom. She desired to get him in the habit of being responsible and taking accountability. Fabiola figured that was the best place to start.

As Fabiola finished up getting ready, she heard her cellphone buzz. Thinking it was Ransom, she quickly reached for the device only to deflate. It wasn’t Ransom.

Jonathan: I need to see you. I can’t stop thinking about you, Fabiola. Please give me another chance.

Fabiola let out a frustrated groan when she read the message. Jonathan was her former boyfriend/submissive who appeared not to get the hint that things with them were over. The guy was too clingy for Fabiola to handle. He always wanted to be around her. He wanted more than what she was able to give him.

Fabiola: I can’t talk right now. I’m busy. 

Jonathan: Please! I need you!

Fabiola: NO! I told you that what we had is over. Now stop contacting me!

With a sigh, Fabiola put her phone in her clutch. ‘If you don’t want him to contact you, then block his number,’ Fabiola’s inner voice scolded her.

It wasn’t like Fabiola hadn’t thought about it. However, there was a part of her that couldn’t do it. She liked Jonathan. He was special to her. And some part of Fabiola still felt responsible for him.

She took out her phone and brought up the message chain.

Fabiola: Jonathan, I’m sorry. Look, I really can’t talk right now. How about tomorrow?

‘You’re an enabler!’ her inner voice yelled.

Jonathan: Yes! Thank you! Talk to you tomorrow, sweetheart. 😊

Fabiola rolled her eyes.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to stew over Jonathan’s messages for too long when the doorbell rang. She looked at the time, which read eight o’clock. She opened the door, and there was Ransom dressed to perfection. He wore all black from his jacket, shirt, slacks, and shoes. Very casual but still sophisticated. Fabiola could only guess Ransom’s clothes’ cost, which she knew each piece had to have been from a top designer.

“Hi,” Fabiola greeted. “You’re right on time.”

“I figured you’d count it against me if I didn’t,” Ransom confessed. He looked Fabiola up and down. “You look outstanding.”

“Thank you. So do you,” Fabiola complimented and walked out of her apartment to lock it up. 

Ransom offered Fabiola his arm, which she took, and walked her to his car. He would show that he could be a perfect gentleman since he was the one who recommended they go out for the night before returning to her place.

He wanted to relax but also show Fabiola a good time. Wining and dining women was one of Ransom’s specialties.

“So, where are we going?” Fabiola implored as she looked over at the man next to her.

“I figured I would take you to Yvonne’s. It’s a restaurant and bar. Nice atmosphere. Cool décor. You ever been?”

“No, never been,” she answered.

“I think you’ll like it.”

The remaining drive to the restaurant was quiet. It was as if neither knew what to bring up to start a conversation, which was not surprising. Ransom and Fabiola still didn’t know much about one another.

“How is your writing coming along since we last saw each other?” Fabiola probed as the quietness was getting to her. She figured asking Ransom about his writing was the safest conversation starter.

“Uh,” Ransom began as he steered his car through traffic. “It is…well, to be honest, I’m kind of stuck. I don’t know where to take the story next.”

Fabiola nodded in understanding. “Writer’s block. All too common. You know, some writers have shared with me how they combat writer’s block. You want to hear?”

“All ears.”

“Do you ever develop a list of favorite things your characters like, such as food, music, television shows, all that stuff? A writer told me they did that to help flesh out characters. That way, it helped to steer them where they needed to go within the story. Another writer told me that they would write one-shots where a character would do something different outside of the overall story. That way, you’re still getting your creative writing juices flowing instead of stewing and feeling bad about yourself for not writing,” Fabiola advised.

In all honesty, Ransom appreciated the advice. He was not used to kindness from another person who did not appear to want anything from him, at least not regarding his money or status. With Fabiola, he could tell that she was genuine with her advice offering.

After another fifteen minutes of mindless chitchat, Ransom pulled into a parking lot. He put the car in park and got out. Ransom hurried to the passenger door to help Fabiola out of the car, but she got out before he could open the door for her. 

“I’m sorry,” Fabiola giggled. “I never know if a guy is going to do that or not. I’ll let you open the door for me next time.”

With a chuckle, Ransom offered his arm once again and guided his date to the restaurant. Ransom was not kidding when he said that Yvonne’s décor was “cool.” Heck, it was more than that; it was fabulous. For Fabiola, it looked like gothic Alice in Wonderland, with its bookcases, elegant chandeliers, and other abstract lighting and art along the walls. Fabiola mainly got a kick out of the numerous skulls outlining the front of the bar.

“This place is amazing,” she gushed to Ransom.

“I had a feeling you would,” he smiled at her. Ransom was happy he was able to do something right.

They were greeted by the hostess and then escorted to their reserved table. 

“I’m so tempted to go up to those bookshelves and check out what they got,” Fabiola raved as she continued to take in her surroundings. 

Ransom tried to hold back his smile as he watched Fabiola. She looked like a kid in a candy store. He couldn’t fathom how this beautiful before him was a domme when she had the sweetest and, at times, goofy disposition. Fabiola was just who she was, carefree. Or at least that is what she presented on the outside. He wondered if she had any skeletons in her closet. 

He put down the wine/cocktail menu and leaned his arms on the table. “Tell me something, Ms. Rossi,” he began, “What makes you…tick?”

She quirked one of her perfectly tweezed eyebrows at Ransom, “What do you mean?”

“Like, what drives you crazy? What annoys you?”

“Oh, that is easy. The answer to that is stupid people. I have an extremely low tolerance to people who willingly choose to be ignorant,” she answered and grabbed the wine/cocktail menu. “What about you?”

“My family. They are the worst. You’d hate them for sure. But I won’t spoil the evening talking about them.”

“How about we order drinks,” Fabiola suggested as she continued to look at the drink menu. “Help us relax more, eh. What’s monkey shoulder?” she asked Ransom as she pointed to the drink that was called ‘Monkeys In A Pear Tree’ that had monkey shoulder, spiced pear, vanilla, almond, and orange bitters.

“It’s a blended malt scotch whiskey. It’s rather good. You should try it. Not with all that other shit in the drink, just the whiskey.”

“Yeah, I don’t need all that sugar. And I’m not a whiskey girl, unfortunately. I think I’ll go with a glass of wine,” Raina pointed out.

Ransom took the list back and perused the assortments of wine offerings. “How about I get us a bottle. Red or white?”

“Let’s go with red. You pick.”

Waving a waiter over, Ransom ordered a bottle of the red 2017 Syrah. It was a good wine. Not too sweet, but not too “woody” tasting as some would describe certain red wines. With their glasses filled, both opted to go for the shareable plate items—nothing too heavy, just enough to satisfy their stomachs. 

While they waited, Fabiola scooted her chair closer to Ransom. They were seated at a corner table with dim lighting. No one would be able to see what Fabiola was about to do. She placed one of her manicured hands on his thigh. Fabiola began to move her hand up and down. As Fabiola trailed her hand higher up Ransom’s thigh, she watched his face for any reaction that she should stop. When she didn’t see any hesitation from him, she rested her hand against the bulge in his pants. Fabiola squeezed it, and Ransom almost jumped from his seat. 

Ransom felt Fabiola begin to unbuckle his belt and lower the zipper. He looked around the restaurant to make sure no one was looking over at their table. Fabiola let out a little chuckle.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked him.

He shook his head ‘no.’ “I need you to voice it, Baby Hughie,” Fabiola ordered him in a low voice while she continued to rub him out. He stirred in his seat as she slipped a hand under his briefs.

“Don’t stop,” Ransom managed to breathe out. His cock was almost rock hard.

Fabiola continued to stroke him. Back and forth. Nice and slow. Agonizingly slow. Ransom began to move his hips to try to increase the friction against his cock. 

“Look at you. So needy. You want to cum, don’t you? Is that what you want? You want to cum in a public setting, Baby Hughie?” teased Fabiola as she leaned over and began to kiss Ransom from his neck to his ear. “I want to see how long I can tease you before you eventually beg me to let you cum.”

Even when the waiter brought their food (who was oblivious to what was going on under the table), Fabiola did not remove her hand from Ransom’s pants. She ate her food with her other hand while she continued to stroke his cock with the other. Sometimes Fabiola would bring her fork to Ransom’s mouth so he would eat when she noticed he was barely touching his food. 

When Ransom felt a thumb rub his tip, he let out a low groan. “I need to cum,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

“I know you do, but I’m not going to allow it,” was all Fabiola said and continued to eat her food. 

It was only when she was finished eating that she stopped stroking Ransom’s cock and removed her hand from his pants. She assisted in zipping and buckling Ransom back up to make sure he looked presentable. Fabiola stood up from the table. She handed Ransom one of the clean napkins. “Wipe the sweat from your forehead and drink some water. I’m going to go wash my hands.” 

As Ransom watched Fabiola’s retreating form, he leaned back in his chair and let out a loud sigh. Reaching for his wine glass, he downed the contact in one gulp and poured himself another. Ransom squeezed his own junk as it was still hard. He began to think about other things to stifle the hardness. ‘Family reunions. Aunt Joni in a bathing suit. Grandma in a bathing suit.’ Ransom throughout in his head. 

Unsurprisingly, they worked. His stiffened cock was beginning to recede. Gulping down another glass of wine, Ransom poured himself another. He didn’t quite know how to feel at that moment. He was unsatisfied with not being allowed to cum, but also intrigued with how turned he felt. 

The feeling of not being in control was all-new for Ransom. At that moment, it was Fabiola who called the shots. She told him that he was not allowed to cum. He noticed the chastising tone in her voice when she ordered him to wipe off his sweat and drink water. Normally, Ransom would scoff at someone commanding to do things, but there was something incredibly erotic when Fabiola did it. He picked up his napkin and began to wipe off the sweat from his forehead. He drank his water and waited for the woman, who excited and astounded him, to return.  

Unfortunately, Ransom’s euphoria came to a crashing halt when he heard, “Hey, son. What are you doing here?”

Ransom looked up to see his father, Richard Drysdale, standing before him. “What the Hell are you doing here?” Ransom retorted coldly. 

Ignoring his son’s cold tone and icy glare, Richard took it upon himself to take a seat at the table. He began picking the food off of the plates and took Ransom’s glass of wine to sip for himself. 

“You got a date?” Richard probed his son. 

Ransom let out a frustrated groan. He needed to get out of here. “Is mom here as well, or are you with one of your side pieces?” 

Before Richard could reply, Fabiola came back to the table. She was caught off guard by the new addition who was eating their food and drinking their wine. “Sorry I took so long. I got caught up talking to a woman who wanted to know where I purchased my shoes, then we got off tangent, and well…I’m back now. Who is this?”

“No one important,” Ransom replied.

Richard glared at his son but hid his animosity with a laugh. “He’s a kidder that one. Hi, I’m Richard Drysdale. Ransoms’ father,” he introduced himself. Richard stuck his hand out for Fabiola. Which she accepted with the hand that was previously stroking his son’s cock. 

“Fabiola Rossi.”

“Well, aren’t you beautiful,” Richard complimented. Ransom noticed a look in his father’s eyes. He knew that look. It was the look Richard always had when he wanted a woman that was not his wife. 

“Again, I ask, what are you doing here?” Ransom again asked his father.

Richard looked over at the bar with Ransom and Fabiola following suit. They saw Richard wave a young woman who waved back. “I’m here for a business dinner.”

“Bullshit.”

Ransom knew that his father was having an affair. Everyone in the family knew, except for Linda. But that was his mother. She would rather ignore the problems in her marriage and family while pretending everything is perfect. 

“Look, son, I didn’t mean to crash your date. I just stopped by to say ‘hi,’ that is it,” Richard pointed out.

Ransom merely scoffed. “Okay. You said your ‘hi,’ now leave.”

“Actually, Ransom, I think we should start heading out,” Fabiola spoke up while looking around for their waiter.

“I didn’t mean to cut your evening short,” said Richard as he got up from the table. He stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before bidding adieu and going back to his “business dinner.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ransom was more than annoyed; he was fuming. He was ready to blow, and Fabiola could see it. She watched as Ransom pulled out a couple of hundred bills from his wallet and stood up. She stood up as well gathered her jacket and clutch. Following Ransom’s lead out of the restaurant, Fabiola was only a few steps behind him as they walked to the car. He stopped in front passenger door side and turned around. He watched as Fabiola put on her jacket.  Her hair was lightly blowing in the night wind. His father was right; she was beautiful.

Moving towards Fabiola, Ransom ran his hands up and down her arms to help warm her up. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, indicating what happened in the restaurant with his father. “My dad…he isn’t someone I…”

“It’s fine, Ransom. Let’s not have him ruin the rest of our night. You still want to come over, right?”

Ransom leaned his forehead against Fabiola’s before pressing his lips against hers. He didn’t deepen the kiss and retreated after only a couple of seconds. Ransom went back to resting his forehead against Fabiola’s while she stroked his left cheek.

“Tell me what you want?” she asked him.

Ransom looked into her eyes like he was searching for something. He sighed at what felt like the hundredth time that night. “I don’t know what I want. That is the problem. All I do know is that I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to be my dad.”

Fabiola nodded her head in understanding. “Don’t then.”

[zootopiathingz]

Between the Odds

Part One: Happy Birthday

After another six hours of mostly peaceful sleep, Judy got dressed and arrived at the Zootopia Police Department, pretty early as usual. She didn't like being late to anything, nor did she want to cut it close. She always had to be at work at least ten minutes before she was supposed to be there. Surprisingly she was able to get her partner to adjust to that schedule as well. So the second she walked through the main doors, so did Nick.

Judy didn't notice at first, up until she felt someone nudging her from behind. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Nick, since that was usually how he tried to get her attention. It was either that or "sneaking" up behind her. "Sup, slick?" She greeted with a smile, noticing he was holding two cups from a coffee shop.

"Sup." He chuckled, handing her one of the cups. "Here, it's the first of many surprises today."

"But I don't drink coffee." She said, but took the cup from him regardless.

"Exactly why I got you hot chocolate." He winked.

Judy was surprised, but was admittedly glad that he knew what she would've wanted from a coffee place so she wouldn't have to pretend to enjoy the drink for his sake. "Oh, well thank you." She grinned, taking a small sip since the beverage was still warm. "So, first of many surprises, hm? What else do you have in store today?"

"You'll see." Nick said, putting his paw in his pocket. "Just trust me, Carrots. You'll love it."

The two began walking toward the front desk as they continued their conversation. "You seem pretty confident." Judy raised a brow at him, "Let's hope you're right about this."

Nick chuckled at her 'suspicion', since he knew she would be eating her words later. "Of course I'm right. I know you better than anyone. Sometimes more than you know yourself."

"Oh really?" She scoffed, "Okay what's my favorite seafood dish?"

He pointed at her, "Trick question. You don't eat seafood, you're vegan."

"Damn. Okay, I'll give you that one." She said, "But only because everyone knows that."

Nick sneered at her as they walked up to the front desk, to be greeted by Benjamin Clawhauser, their co-worker and close acquaintance. He dawned a bright, sprinkle-filled smile upon seeing them. It had basically became routine for the three of them to have a quick chat before work, and it was one of the best parts of his day. "Hey guys!" He said, finishing off the last of his donut. "Oh Hopps, isn't it your birthday today?"

"Yeah, it is." She nodded, surprised that he brought it up. "Thanks for remembering."

"Oh, I remember everyone's birthday. Although ironically no one remembers mine..." He said, staring off to the side. But he quickly shook the thought away and changed the subject before the conversation could go downhill. "Anyway uh, how old are you turning? If it's okay that I ask."

"25." She answered.

Nick wrapped his arm around her, "Yep, she's gettin' pretty old."

Judy scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. "Big talk from someone in his 30's." She retorted.

"Hush." He rubbed her head playfully, "You're on your way there."

Judy laughed and lightly pushed him away from her. While the two had their moment of banter, Clawhauser observed their playful behavior curiously. This was usually what they did when joking around with each other, but something about it seemed different today, almost flirtatious...

But they were just friends, Clawhauser knew this. They were partners, it would be unprofessional to fraternize in the workplace. And they took their jobs very seriously, especially Judy, so the chances of them actually becoming a couple were unlikely. Besides, she was a bunny and Nick was a fox. It just wouldn't be right.

"Alright, we better get to roll call." Judy said once they calmed down.

"Okay. Oh, wait!" Clawhauser said, briefly stopping them from leaving just yet. He reached over to the donut box on the other side of his desk, picking out a chocolate sprinkled one and handing it down to the rabbit officer. "Here! Happy birthday!"

"Aw, thanks!" She said, taking the donut from him before joining Nick at his side as they walked down the hall. Clawhauser watched them leave with a softer smile, admiring how close the two were. Sometimes he envied their friendship and wished he had a partner. Or at least he wished someone would remember his damn birthday.

—

The day went by relatively slow, possibly because Judy was eager to know what her birthday surprise was and she grew more impatient as the hours passed. She loved work, but she enjoyed quality time with Nick even more (even though everyday at work was also considered quality time with him).

After their shift was over, it was nearing the evening, but they knew her birthday was just getting started now. They made a quick stop at Judy's apartment to change out of their uniforms and into more casual clothes. Nick had a few spare shirts and pants kept at her place, and vise versa. It was easier for them to have sleepovers and carpool to work now that she moved into a building that was close to Nick's (and it was ten times nicer than her previous junky apartment).

Once they were changed, Nick led her downtown and eventually made her cover her eyes to add to the effect of the "surprise". Judy found it kinda cliche but she obliged nonetheless, letting him guide her to wherever he intended to take her. He held her arm to prevent her from falling or bumping into anything and led her inside somewhere. Judy tried to guess based on the sounds she heard upon entering, which was mostly kids and teens laughing.

"Okay, you can look now." He said, pushing her paws away from her face.

Judy opened her eyes and immediately smiled, spotting several arcade machines such as pinball, Pac-Man, air hockey, motor racing games, etc. And Judy's personal favorite, Dance Dance Revolution. Out of all the places she expected to be taken to, she didn't think it would be an arcade. But she wasn't complaining at all. She was turning 25, so it would be refreshing to spend time doing "childish" activities. 

"Wow! Nick, this is awesome!" She smiled up at her friend, clenching her paws excitedly. "How'd you know this is what I wanted?"

"Well, I remember you saying how you used to play at the arcade in Bunnyburrow all the time when you were a kid." He said, "Now I know this is no Bunnyburrow, but I think it's pretty decent."

"It's perfect! And I know exactly what game we're playing first." She grabbed his paw, leading him in a certain direction.

Of course she chose Dance Dance Revolution, but Nick couldn't complain. Even though he wasn't much of a dancer, he enjoyed seeing her so happy and energetic. And when she played, she played to win, so she was really into it and followed every move carefully. Meanwhile Nick somewhat half-assed it, but he knew she would've won regardless since she told him tales of her glorious winnings in the past. Apparently in Bunnyburrow, she was the DDR queen.

They decided to take turns choosing what games to play, but the entire time they mostly played air hockey since that was Judy's second favorite, and Nick could actually beat her at it. But he let her win sometimes since it was her birthday, and his ego was too big to admit that she was actually capable of winning on her own.

After a couple hours, they had played mostly every game in the arcade and won quite a lot of tickets. But Nick didn't really want a prize, so he let her use his to get whatever she wanted, 'cause once again he reminded her it was her special day. Judy had to admit she enjoyed being spoiled by him, but she couldn't explain why exactly. She got a few cute little accessories and a stuffed animal from the prize counter, then decided they could leave so they could move onto Nick's next surprise.

He didn't make her cover her eyes this time, since he wanted her to recognize this place from the outside specially. Thankfully it was just a short walk away from the arcade. Once it was in view, Nick stopped them in their tracks so he could ask her, "Look familiar, Carrots?"

Judy gave him a small look of confusion, taking a glance around the area to try to remember anything specific. But then she saw him give a subtle gesture forward, and once her eyes landed on the ice cream shop ahead of them, she was instantly struck with realization.

"Ohh, it's where we first met." She chuckled, "Look at you being a sentimental softie."

"I'm only doing this for you, ya know." He nudged her shoulder as they continued walking. "I do still owe you for the jumbo pop."

"Damn right you do." She scoffed, skipping ahead of him to cross the street. "Come along now, slick."

Nick rolled his eyes and quickly caught up to her. They entered the shop and quickly scanned the menu while waiting in line, though it was a little hard to read since they were the smallest ones in there and they had to step aside to be able to see their options.

Once they ordered an ice cream to share, they carried it to sit at a table close to the window. Even the smallest size they could get was still too big for them to eat, but they were willing to try.

"So what made you decide to do all of this for me?" She asked curiously, taking much smaller spoonfuls than him.

Nick shrugged nonchalantly, "It's your birthday. Why wouldn't we do something special?"

"I dunno. This is just the first time we've done something like this." She glanced out the window. "This is actually the first time I've celebrated my birthday in a while."

"Really?" He asked, genuinely shocked by this bit of information. "Why's that?"

Judy sighed, taking another spoonful of the sprinkly ice cream. "Eh, in my family after you turn 18, birthdays sorta just become another day. A little cupcake with a candle is all ya get."

Nick frowned sympathetically, since he could understand what it felt like spending birthdays alone with not even a real cake to enjoy. But he didn't expect that from Judy, since she came from a loving and caring family. But they were also a huge family, so it made sense that they couldn't always celebrate every single birthday.

But now that made him feel even better that he went all out to make this day special for her. She deserved nothing but the best, especially after all she did for him. "Well Carrots, when you're with me," He playfully tapped her nose with his spoon, "you won't ever have anything less than this."

Judy giggled and wiped away the small bit of ice cream from her nose. "Thanks, Nick."

After they eventually (halfway) finished their frozen dessert, they decided they were full and made their way to Nick's apartment to finish off the night with movies and snacks of her choice. She decided to take full advantage of this opportunity and selected her two favorite cheesy romance movies, Love Actually and Mamma Mia.

But before starting their little movie night, Nick had one more surprise left for her. As she put the popcorn bag in the microwave, he walked up to her holding his paw behind his back. "Alright Carrots, close your eyes and hold out your paw."

Judy realized what he was up to, and though she wasn't shocked, she was still reluctant. "Another surprise?" She giggled, "I can't take much more of these."

"It's the last one, I swear." He told her. "Now close your eyes."

She gave him a look before closing her eyes as instructed, hesitantly holding her paw out for him. He waited a moment for dramatic affect, then placed the small velvet box in her palm, having it already opened for her. "Okay, you can open them."

Judy felt a small blush appear on her cheeks as she saw the beautiful little carrot-shaped pendant in the box. If she had anticipated jewelry from him, she hoped it would be something this meaningful. "Aww Nick! It's beautiful!" She chirped, taking it out of the box. "Put it on me!"

Nick smiled at her excitement and undid the chain, bringing it up to her neck while she move her ears up and out of the way. Once it was clipped and secure, she turned around to face him again, playing with the charm. "How much did this cost?" She asked, hoping that it wasn't much. She would never want Nick to spend more than he could afford on her, even if she did appreciate it.

"Not too much." He said, "Besides, any price is worth seeing your smile."

Judy once again blushed, a bit surprised by his compliment. Well, sure he's complimented her before, but usually it was for jokes or was thrown in between playful insults. "You're such a kiss-up." She laughed, still admiring the pendant and how it shimmered in the light.

And while she was in awe at the gift, Nick was more focused on the bunny wearing it. Seeing her so happy today made him feel quite warm inside, and not just because it was him that made her feel the way (although that was a huge bonus). She was just so beautiful when she was happy like this. The way her amethyst eyes twinkled like jewels, how her bright smile occupied her adorable face, when her feet would bounce and her tail would twitch. Oh, Nick would give anything to see her like that all the time.

Even when Judy looked up to see him staring at her, his small smile of admiration didn't fade. If anything it added to the warmth in his stomach, for reasons he didn't want to admit. "What?" She asked, a little confused as to what he was doing. But she didn't really mind.

"Nothing." He shook his head, "Just lookin' at you."

"Softie." She smirked knowingly.

Nick scoffed and extended his arms, "Just get in here."

Judy laughed quietly and immediately made her way into his embrace, holding him snug and tight. "This is definitely the best birthday I've ever had." She said, nuzzling her head against his chest. "I love you."

He smiled and gently rubbed the back of her head, trying to keep her close to him. "I love you, too, Carrot cake."

[bottleofspilledink]

God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter XII

Eve arrived at school at exactly seven in the morning, a whole hour before class was supposed to start. She had gotten there in record time too, legs sore with how eager she was to leave the house.

You see, Eve had miscalculated her father’s arrival.

Severely.

Rather than arriving as she had slept, he walked through the door just in time for breakfast. Shirt crumpled, hair ruffled, a sated look in his brown eyes. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. They were too tired for that. Yes, long gone was the happy couple trying to make it all work. In their place, the shell of who they once were, wilting husks with only overwhelming sadness and a want for temporary pleasure filling it.

Breakfast was somehow worse than dinner. Far from suffocating, she felt as if she were choking despite how well she chewed her serving of eggs. The dining room, already nowhere near welcoming before, seemed to taint everything in it, the sour mood permeating it seeping into her orange juice, making it taste as if it had gone bad weeks ago. (It hadn’t, though. She even helped her mother load groceries into the refrigerator. The juice had been there for no more than two days.)

Eve sat on that on a wooden courtyard bench, the very same one she sat on just eleven days ago, legs sore from how fast she pedaled, aching almost as much as she ached to get out of that horrid hou-

“Shut up.” Her mind echoed. It was painful, how hard she hard to try to stop herself from saying things she shouldn’t, from doing things she shouldn’t. “You should be grateful you even have a family. You know how people here feel about broken homes and single moms…”

“Eve!” Elizabeth came up from behind her, slender arms wrapping around her in a hug. She was in a good mood, giggling behind her manicured hands, cheeks tinted the signature pink of love – or simply infatuation. It was hard to tell, really, if your friend truly loved a man when you yourself were incapable of such things, try as she might, no matter how hard she forced herself to.

Nothing came of it. Nothing would ever come of it.

“So, I’m assuming you had a fun night?”

Just because Eve didn’t understand what was so thrilling about kissing boys and all that came after it, didn’t mean she wouldn’t listen to Elizabeth’s excited ramblings of it. She knew what was expected of her. One day, hopefully not one day soon, she would find a boy she could tolerate, a decent one she would at least come to love as a friend; she would marry him and lie with him, as a good wife does and bear his children.

And she would tolerate it.

Just because she was like Lilith, didn’t mean she had to act like her, didn’t mean she had to act on what she felt for her.

“Not just a night!” Elizabeth’s dark eyes twinkled, gesturing wildly and almost obscenely with her hands. “I was with him every night during the weekend and Monday night. I got Mary to vouch for me so we could go out.”

“Out?”

The brunette nodded, clearly deliberate in stating that they went out in order to say: “He just got his driver’s license so we went out on his motorcycle to celebrate!”

“Motorcycle?” Eve perked up, pleasantly surprised her friend wasn’t here to brag about her sex life and the fact that Zachariah could drive. (Really, the last thing she needed was a detailed description of a blowjob, especially considering that her breakfast wasn’t sitting right with her, though that may just be her lingering dread speaking.)

“Yup! Since he’ll be on a scholarship for college next year, he convinced his parents to let him use the money they set aside for it to buy a bike.”

She went on about the boy and the places he’d taken her, a genuine joy in her every motion, in her every word, excitement clear to all who would lay eyes on her.

Oh, Eve could feel her happiness, potent, so close yet completely unattainable to the likes of her. That wasn’t a new realization, not by any means, no, but God, it was different this time; a bitter bile rising in her, leaving the taste of acid and envy and a sorrow not unlike that of resignment, of loss.

But between Elizabeth’s giggles and how nice the boy seemed to be, the taste would soon fade into a sweet sugar cookie sort of fondness.

Only a hint of that resignment remained, a tangy, rotten after taste.

...

Unlike the first day of their newly implemented schedule, today was not so tense.

Rather, the two girls sat next to each other, not even a ruler’s length apart, not tense but tenuous both of them lost in a labyrinth of thoughts and drowning in a sea of emotions either too scary to name or too muddled to be sure of, everything mixing and melding and melting like a soup with a certain ingredient you couldn’t quite place.

The memory of yesterday was burned into their minds, playing again and again on an endless loop for reasons they dare not say, the same words spoken and heard from slightly different perspectives with slightly different thoughts accompanying it.

For Lilith, yesterday was a sign of hope for Eve. She was willing to disobey, allowing herself the occasional indulgence with a bit of coaxing. All Eve needed was a nudge, a gentle push in the right direction. The redhead could imagine it quite vividly, the girl standing before her mother, letting lies slip from her lips, pretending to have been forced into a place of opposition she so evidently wanted to be in. Eve hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that her mother was the only thing keeping her from the club, either too tired to make up an excuse or just feeling comfortable enough to open up about it to her.

For Eve, yesterday was the end of playing dumb, the end of turning a blind eye to her own desires and the undeniable humanity of people… like Lilith. She could hardly believe all that had happened despite it being so clear in her head. Between what see had seen in the locker room and what had happened over lunch and the things she’d willingly done during club time… it was all too much.

Yesterday was the end of life as she knew it. Or rather, it was the beginning of the end.

After all, progress took time and it was by no means linear. Especially not during matters of this nature.

“So what did your mom say?” Lilith said. She was trying to separate what she felt for that woman from her voice, and she was doing well, disdain for her considered. Really, fussing over every little detail of her daughter was one thing but the fact that the concern she displayed was not for said daughter but for her future husband was something she couldn’t forgive. Still, she kept her language plain and her tone neutral. Most people didn’t take kindly to other’s insulting their mothers.

“Oh, I haven’t told her.” The way Eve’s voice trembled when she said that “oh” sent arrows through her heart, the dread palpable and utterly unnerving. “She hasn’t asked yet and I didn’t have a good time to bring it up so I’ll just wait for her to say something. Maybe she’s assuming I joined the book club again?”

A lie by omission was better than an outright one but it was a lie nonetheless and the guilt of it didn’t do much to ease the girl’s tension, though the fact that she would be able to avoid that conversation for a while longer did.

“Speaking of books,” Lilith coughed, deciding to change the topic before Eve withdrew into her mind “what did you guys do in that club? Just read all day and discuss books? Is there even anything good in that library?”

“Well, most of it is theology and reference books, yeah, but those can be good! There are a few volumes of Sherlock Holmes near the history section! It’s not a complete collection at all but definitely better than nothing.”

She could already feel the dopey grin making it’s way onto her face. In the short amount of time they’ve known each other, Lilith would be hard pressed to find a time Eve had been this happy about anything. Unbridled joy was a good look on everyone. The gleam in their eyes that only came from a genuine liking for something, the way they’d gesticulate, unable to contain all their passion.

Granted, Eve didn’t gesture so much as flap her hands about, but while joy looked good on everyone, it also looked different in everyone and Lilith found this eccentricity of hers adorable to no small degree.

“They have Phantom of the Opera tucked away somewhere near this compilation of Edgar Allan Poe I’ve been able to read a few times. A bit macabre but still good! Oh, you know they have books on gardening, too! I can show you next time we go and you can check out one or two if you want! The ones on herbs was fun but I think you’ll find the one on flower language an interesting read. It’s not exactly about gardening, but still. Did you know that the way you tied a bouquet could completely change the meaning of all the flowers you were trying to send?”

She spoke in a mix of short, rapid-fire sentences and long-winded rants, switching with no real pattern, rambling and occasionally straying to go on a tangent about a specific book or mention something about gardening, none of which Lilith understood, being unable to name any flowers by appearance other than rose, daisy, and sunflower, though she listened eagerly nonetheless.

“But back to books! Near the back, just by the cookbook – oh, and um, don’t tell anyone but –” Eve scooted her wooden chair across the wooden floor, mindlessly brushing Lilith’s hair back, placing her lip just two centimeters scant of her ear. “There are books hidden there, by older girls, I think. Ones that graduated a really long time ago.”

Eve’s ivory-like hands cupped the small space around Lilith’s ear, shielding their words from any listening ears, anything that happened behind her hands hidden from prying eyes. In the midst of her whispering, she realized she could kiss Lilith; a gentle peck on the shell of her ear. No one needed to know. Just a quick press of the lips, it wouldn’t take longer than a second… or two.

And though she ignored the impulse, the thought lingered.

“Love poems and romance novels. I’m pretty sure they wrote it all themselves. Two of them are just a bunch of papers with holes punched in the side tied together by string, no cover. Technically more manuscript than book but you know what I mean. The others are leather bound journals, hand-written.”

“No kidding?” The other asked, hushed, nothing anyone further than Eve would catch. She didn’t dare say it louder, both unwilling to let anyone eavesdrop on them and scared that the excessive movement of her jaw would lead Eve farther from her.

“Nope, they’re there.” She pulled away from the girl’s ear but didn’t bother to move her seat back to where it was, their legs pressed together beneath the table they shared. “I haven’t been able to read much of any of them cause I’m scared I’ll get too absorbed to notice anyone walking past but their poems are really good! I can show you sometime, along with the gardening books.”

“We can go there later, during lunch. I’ll keep watch for while you read.”

The offer turned the girl’s waning grin into a megawatt smile, dimpled and rosy cheeked, she looked like a Raphaelite painting, a masterpiece.

“Really?”

“Sure! I’m always up for a bit of casual disobedience.” She replied with a wink and a deep chuckle, using amusement as a cover for endearment.

“Holy cow, thank you so much! But I’m pretty sure we’re not actually breaking any rules, I–”

Smack!

“Everyone bring out your composition notebook! We’re going to use the rest of homeroom to learn how to read sheet music before proceeding to the music room so if you want to fool around on the piano you’d best master this quickly.”

With that, Eve jerked away from Lilith, bringing her chair along with her and causing a loud, grating noise to make it’s way through the now silent room, every head whipping around to face them, the eyes now bearing into them, mostly shocked, some irritated, with one judgmental look from the front, from Sister Bernadette.

“No movement of chairs unless otherwise stated!”

“But-”

“Put the seat back where it was immediately or get detention!”

Lilith then pulled the girl down into her seat, cutting off another protest and brought the seat back to where it was before the nun entered, effectively ridding all the space between them.

Only when the woman turned to face the blackboard did she whisper to Eve: “Don’t argue, even if they’re wrong. They’ll just call it disrespectful and send you to the principal’s.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, I’m just not used to getting yelled at here so I wasn’t sure about– I didn’t know what to do. Sorry, again…”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” She gave the blonde a teasing jab along with a soft smile, looking at the girl only from the corner of her sky blue eye so as not to invoke the further ire of the clearly on-edge teacher. “’Sides, the jokes on them. They’re still wrong and we get to stay like this. That’s a win-win if I’ve ever seen one, yeah?”

Eve huffed, a small laugh, in part a sort of thanks for the given consolation, in part a sort of reassurance to the other that she’d be okay, that she’d bounce back.

“Yeah.”

In the end, they weren’t able to go to the music room.

...

The hours passed, only a few words passing between the girls every so often, most of it questions related to the work they were assigned. They were careful, Eve unwilling to anger any other authority figures, Lilith trying to fly under the radar, admittedly rather afraid of being called into Mother Cecilia’s office over even trivial matters, knowing it would lead to yet another interrogation regarding the fire.

But finally, the lunch bell rang, granting them freedom and the ability to be enthusiastic without repercussion. (As long as they weren’t too noisy, of course.) All the anticipation and excitement led to Eve shooting out of her chair and practically sprinting to the library, books shoved haphazardly into her book bag as Lilith followed not too far behind her, pleasantly surprised at her actions, though with more emphasis on the pleasant and not so much on the surprised.

“It’s right this way,” The blonde said, not bothering to drop her bag down in her usual seat as they ventured deeper into the library.

Eventually, they reached the deepest, mustiest park of the library, all the shelves covered in a thin sheen of dust save for a single row level with their knees. The sun streaming in from the arching windows only served to accentuate how unkempt the place was, illuminating the dust particles that flew into the air when Eve took to her knees to retrieve the books she spoke so eagerly about.

“The last time I’ve been able to peek at them was a few weeks before summer, so sorry for the dust. You’re not asthmatic, right?” She pulled out a few of the recipe books, setting them aside before reaching in deeper to grab a stack of papers, bound with string, it’s outer most page containing nothing more than a title and a name. Sticking her arm in a bit more, she pulled out two leather journals, putting them down atop the manuscript before taking a few more cookbooks from the shelf and grabbing the last journal along with manuscript type book.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

Lilith crouched down next to her, looking at the stack Eve made. The paper ones were practically identical save for a difference in thickness while the leather-bound books varied in colour, one the usual coffee brown, the other a matte black, and the last one a fine, wine-red.

“So, how’d you find all this anyway?” The redhead asked, taking the brown book from the stack, flicking through a random page and instantly regretting it as a cloud of dust came from it, resulting in a rather violent coughing fit, Eve rushing to her and patting her back as her lungs tried to expel themselves through her mouth.

“Are you sure you’re not asthmatic?”

“Eve, I’m not sure how to break it to you, but anyone that gets hit with a face-full of dust is gonna cough a bit. I’ll live.”

“Good point.” She reached over to her bag and took a tumbler from it. “Water?”

Lilith’s fingers brushed against Eve’s as the dark green bottle switched hands, reminiscent of the brief touch they shared the first time they met, on that fateful, windy day in the courtyard.

“Thanks.”

There were a handful of things she expected to happen today, things she prepared an appropriate response for. Watching Lilith gulp down water like a dying man, seeing her throat work with every sip, eyes following the stray drops that rolled down her chin and her neck, making it’s way to the opening of her shirt before finally stopping, absorbed by the fabric that now clung to parts of her chest, was evidently not one of those things.

“T-thanks to you, too… Lilith.”

The girl in question merely raised an eyebrow and snorted.

“If you wanted to start with this book, you could’ve just said so.”

Lilith passed the book she was holding to her, instead grabbing the red one and holding it out an arm’s length away and flapping it about, effectively getting most of the dust out.

They settled into a comfortable silence after that, content to exist in the same space, unburdened by the unspoken as they read. Sock-clad legs parallel to each other, pressed flush against the flesh, they looked so similar to how they did yesterday, this morning.

Lighter, though. Somehow.

Perhaps it was the lack of looming dread, the weight of anxiety gone from Eve’s mind, for now at least. Perhaps it was the lack of fear, Lilith’s worry for Eve gone, again, if only for now.

...

As Eve went on, she became enamored by the prose, the delicate descriptions crafted from simple every day life and feelings, invested by the admittedly somewhat familiar protagonist, Nina, and her best friend, Rosalie, or as Nina would so fondly call her, Rosie.

Bit by bit, though, things were changing between them. Or maybe they haven’t changed at all and she was just blind to it. Either way though, things became different, odd, queer.

“I carded my hands through her soft, black hair just like I had so many times before. “Will you braid it for me?” She asked, lifting her head from off my lap, resting on her elbows. Not quite lying down, not quite sitting up.”

She couldn’t help but think that the first sentence implied something.

“Rosalie would get her blazer dirty, stomach pressed into the grass as she traced patterns on my lap, the fabric of my skirt shifting, spiraling. “Of course,” I couldn’t say no if I wanted to, but why would I even consider refusing her?”

The way Nina spoke about Rosalie, the way Rosalie spoke to her in turn, the affection they showed to each other, the way she would describe Rosalie in text was akin to that of love… romantic love.

Eve brushed the thoughts aside though, knowing she was probably just projecting her own perversions on the perfectly normal, heterosexual girls.

“We sat there and spoke of the future, a house deep in the woods, an aged, fat cat. Preferably a tabby. I plucked flowers, giving them a new home with her as I wove it into the braid. Call me sacrilegious but she looked like a God, of-the-earth, of me. She was my God. I’d get in trouble if I ever said that out loud. But then again, I’d get in trouble for practically everything I did with Rosie”

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just Eve.

“After finishing the braid, I took a compact mirror from my pocket. “What do you think?” She giggled, deep, brown eyes looking around at the empty field before shimmying over to me, laying a gentle kiss on my cheek. “It’s lovely. You’re lovely.” She moved once more, settling on my lap, lips trailing across my forehead, my eye, my nose, my cheek. Tease. At long last, though, her lips met mine, pressing against me with a soft passion-”

She dropped the book, hands by her head as a sort of surrender to whatever god may be watching her, judging her, face flushed, chest heaving.

Lilith looked up from her book. “You okay?”

She read that. She enjoyed that.

That knowledge was the straw that broke the camel’s still recovering back.

The guilt from yesterday and everyday before that built up in her lungs, drowning her, hastening her hellish damnation. Her thoughts were consumed by apologies and prayers and pleas for a mercy she wasn’t deserving of.

Tears fell from her face like angels from the sky, a testament to her sins, her guilt.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Suffocating, stifling, sinful guilt.

Crashing down on her as if she was being smitten, painful and shameful and rightful guilt.

She sobbed and shook, hands over her mouth to stop herself from wailing her anguish, her agony, her guilt.

But a pair hands weren’t enough to contain everything in her and all that spilled out. Nothing was.

Whimpers escaped through the gaps of her fingers, Lilith forgetting her shock and rushing over to comfort her.

It only made her cry harder. Lilith’s touch burned.

Eve clung to her though, rising to her knees, hands clutching at Lilith’s shirt.

It was yesterday all over again.

It was worse.

She couldn’t deny what she was anymore. Every passing second made it harder to craft lies and alibis and that would be a sin too and she’d go to hell regardless.

Burying her face in the crook of Lilith’s neck in a futile attempt to silence herself, Eve could smell the sweet, apple cinnamon perfume the girl had sprayed on earlier.

The way the scent made her face flush, even with everything going on and everything she was feeling was sick.

It twisted her stomach.

She felt disgusting, sinful, wrong, guilty.

But as she sobbed and shuddered and breathed the scent in…

It twisted her stomach.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

...

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Eve.” She whispered, soft, the words meant for one person and one person only.

Lilith wasn’t a naturally soothing person. Never in her life did she have to console someone in such a way, her friends all preferring to be distracted from their sorrows by quips and jokes. This was different, though. Eve was different.

Eve made her soft and kind to a degree she could hardly fathom. Gone was her icy exterior and harsh features, traded in for a comforting smile and gentle hands.

The girl sobbed and prayed into her shoulder, unable to hear her over muttered prayers and the sound of her own heartbeat, a frantic thump in her heaving chest.

From an outsider’s point of view, it would look like Eve was the one doing the comforting, seeming to pray over Lilith in a manner akin to that to someone being exorcised, a two-person prayer circle.

“Eve,” She whispered, gently trying to pry the girl away from her so she could talk, immediately stopping when the blonde only cried harder at the gesture. “I’m gonna need you to take deep breaths, Eve. Can you do that for me, please?”

The girl hiccupped, body wracked by sobs though clearly trying to follow.

“That’s right, just like that.”

Lilith’s spindly hands made her way up and down Eve’s back in tranquil motions.

“Wanna tell me what’s making you cry? I won’t tell anyone not even Paula and Joan.”

Eve shook her head, not even lifting her head from the crook of Lilith’s neck, her tip of her nose drawing a line from where her neck sloped down to her shoulders.

“Are you sure?”

“Yea-ah…”

Breathing still ragged, eyes still red-rimmed, cheeks still tear-stained, she pulled away from Lilith, sniveling.

“I’m s-sorry, I don’t know why I’m even crying-”

She cut the blonde off, though. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. But please don’t lie to me. You know why you’re crying. I’m not gonna make you talk about it, but you know.”

“Okay.” Eve whispered, a sort of willing surrender.

It was evident to Lilith that she wanted to talk. Shame held her back, unfortunate and burdensome. She didn’t speak, instead picking up the book from where it fell, opening to the page she had last read, finger tapping the paragraph before sliding the book across the small gap between them.

She skimmed over the paragraph and a few thereafter, finding nothing of note until she finally saw what Eve meant.

“This is what you were crying over?”

All she got in response was a nod, the girl looking to be on the brink of tears again.

“Why?”

Eve shook her head again. Her lip trembled, jutting out like a child trying their best not to cry.

“If I guess right will you tell me?”

Nothing.

“Want me to stop?”

Again, there was no reply.

“Can you tell me what you want me to do?”

A shrug of the shoulders. Nothing else.

“Do you know what you want me to do?”

She shook her head no, a few tears going with it. The only thing that left her mouth was a shaky sigh as she carded her hands through her hair. Tired. Eve looked tired. She was all that and more.

Lilith looked away from her, the pity she felt too much. There was nothing she could do. If only for a moment, she felt the degree of helplessness Eve felt, knowing she couldn’t help. It wasn’t foreign to her, helplessness. It was like seeing an old friend.

She could never bring herself to be angry or even annoyed at what was happening to Eve. Not when it’s happened to her, to Paula, to Joan, to Julia, to Colette.

Lost in thought, she was snapped back to reality as Eve dragged her closer, making her face away as the girl hugged her from behind.

Eve cried into her. It wasn’t the way she cried mere minutes ago, however. It was calmer, no hiccups or shaking. Only tears streaming down the girl’s face and soaking into Lilith’s shirt with a sniffle every once and a while.

Time passed and Lilith grew bolder, hand wandering to where Eve’s were wrapped around her stomach. Her touch was tentative, Eve’s hand treated like a fine porcelain piece.

“Is this okay?”

“No.” She said.

But she didn’t push Lilith’s away, instead opting to hold it, their fingers weaving together, slotting together as if their very flesh and bone were sculpted to be together, to intertwine, to love.

How cruel of God to craft two people for each other the turn to create a world were they were not to be.

“None of this is okay.”

______________________

Taglist: @anomiewrites @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @phillyinthebathroom @gaypeaches @extrabitterbrain @pirateofblood @i-wanna-be-a-rock

[tloujm]

Part VI: Future Days

Author’s Notes: My favorite chapter because Joel freaking playing the guitar! and singing? Ughh! Timewise, a year has passed since Part V so the season is back to fall/autumn.

Genre: Is it fluff or is it angst? Both?

Summary: After the break up, you had no desire to see or speak to Joel. You became close to your new friends and moved out on your own. Joel couldn’t take how much he missed you, so he came over to serenade you. Needless to say, it messed with your feelings. Despite that, there were still unsettled matters between the two of you and that meant having a grown up discussion with him. 

Ship: Joel x Reader

For a year, you avoided Joel like the plague. In turn, things became awkward with Tommy and Maria. You only spoke to them when it came to official settlement business. When Joel had told Tommy about everything, the younger brother promised to keep the secret. Maria, however, guilted it out of him. As a result, she felt sympathy toward you. Still, you kept your distance. You became close with a group of people who you began patrolling with after switching shifts. You also started taking shifts in the main watchtower. 

No one in Jackson other than Joel, Tommy and Maria knew you were immune, so even your closest friends didn’t know the depth of why you and Joel broke up. The two of you always seemed like an odd match on paper, but in real life, had a way of complimenting each other, which caused townsfolk to envy your relationship. At some point, you got your own place and moved out of your friend’s. You loved Jackson and the people within it, but almost everything tied back to Joel there and you wanted to free your mind of him. You so much as contemplated moving outside the walls of Jackson and living on a farm. It was a conflicting thought because you promised him that you would stay if he told the truth. 

One night, you were relaxing in your new home after a long day. The music was playing from an old boombox and you were mindlessly drawing in your notebook. A knock on the door was heard. You told them that they could come in. You knew everyone in Jackson and trusted them in your home. You didn’t, however, expect Joel to come in. You looked him up and down. The first thing that drew you was his hair. It was longer. You noticed that he’d been growing it out as the months got colder. Now that he was in front of you, you could see that it was slightly grayer as well. He was wearing a worn out, olive green button down. It was tucked into his equally worn out jeans. He looked so tired. 

“Hey.” You said awkwardly. 

“Hey.” Joel repeated in that gravelly yet soft voice only he had.

“What’s up, Joel?” You finally asked after silence had sat in the air for a moment. He fiddled with a piece of decor that he recognized from your shared house.

“Tommy and I went riding the other day and he, uh,” He let out a light chuckle. “He told me a joke and I...I thought about you. It’s um....” He looked off into the distance trying to remember. “Oh shoot, now I done forgot it. Uh...somethin’ about a clock.” He was frustrated at his lack of memory. You could tell he was nervous. He should be, you thought to yourself. 

“You came by to tell me a joke?” You asked. He looked up at you with doe eyes. You weren’t sure if he was going to say something, but you decided to speak up anyway. “It’s pretty late, Joel.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. I’m gonna get outta your hair. I just um…” He looked behind him at the door. “I wanna...wanna show you somethin’. Just gimme a second.” He ran out the door. You closed your notebook for the night. 

You heard the door open again, so you looked back up. “What’s this?”

“Some folks call this thing here a gee-tar.” He walked in holding the stringed instrument. He knew your question was sarcastic, but he still played into it. Immediately, you noticed that it looked different from the one he found a while back.

“Is that the one you’d been building?” You asked with genuine curiosity.

He nodded. “Mmmhmmm.” It was beautiful. You contemplated telling him that. Emotions started to flood as memories of watching him work on it came to mind. It took all you had to push them to the side so he wouldn’t see. “You wanna hear somethin’?” He looked to you.

“Okay.” You said barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Okay.” He repeated with feigned confidence. He sat down on the couch across from the armchair you were in. “Promise me that you won’t laugh.” You thought it was a rhetorical request and that he was just going to start playing, but he paused and looked up at you. His eyes locked with yours for the first time in God knows how long. Waiting for a reply, you silently drew a cross on over your heart. “I’m trustin’ you.” He mumbled before pulling his gaze down to the metal strings between his fingers. He took a deep breath then started playing. “If I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself.” When he began to sing, you were taken aback. Despite sharing his dreams with you, he had never shared his actual singing voice. “Everything I have found here, I’ve not found by myself. Try and sometimes you’ll succeed to make this man of me. All of my stolen, missing parts, I’ve no need for anymore. ‘Cause I believe and I believe ‘cause I can see. Our future days. Days of you and me.” His voice was low and velvety. It wasn’t perfect, but it was raw and it appealed to you. The lyrics hit home with every word he sang. You could hear the emotion in his voice and it plucked at your heart strings. The emotional memories began to flood back and this time you couldn’t stop it. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you noticed that he was playing with his eyes closed. He finished the verse and strummed a few more chords before letting the strings settle. “Well, there you go.” He looked up, but not quite at you, focusing somewhere on your shirt. You were grateful for this because your face was completely wet with tears at that point. You had the sudden impulse to run over and just attach yourself to him. In your mind, you imagined a weaker version of yourself knocking him over with your embrace; your legs straddling his waist, your arms around his neck, your mouth next to his ear. You imagined a weaker self making up with him right then and there on your couch where he sat. Instead, you continued to sit across from him. You breathed in with a sniffle, causing him to actually look at you.

“Joel,” You breathed his name. He watched you with eager eyes, hungry for your next words. “That didn’t suck.” You finally said with a soft smile. 

He breathed out a laugh. “I’ll take what I can get.” He ran his hand across the guitar before holding it out for you to take. “She’s yours.”

“No,” You protested. “I can’t! This is your baby.” He opened his mouth to speak but held his tongue to ponder. He propped the guitar up against the wall. “I promised I would teach you how to play.” 

“You did.” You almost whispered. He gazed down at you with loving eyes.

“So what do you say, tomorrow night? First lesson?” He knew it might be too soon after he just poured his heart out to you, but he couldn’t help but take a chance. 

“I have a long day tomorrow actually. Then the day after that, I’m covering Wendy at the daycare.” You told him sorrowfully. It was the truth; you liked to keep busy. Part of you was ok with that, though, because you didn’t know if you could handle seeing him again so soon. Being so close to him so soon.

“Oh.” He began. “Maybe another time then.” You nodded your head.

“Hey,” You caught him before he left. He turned around in the doorway to face you again. “Did you remember the joke?” He leaned against the door frame and smiled, happy that he got to stay a little longer. He remembered the joke alright, but pretended to think as a way to stay in your presence longer.

He feigned an aha moment. “What is the downside to eating a clock?” You looked off in the distance to genuinely think of an answer before shrugging. “It’s time consuming.” He said with a twang of charm in his voice.

You chuckled. You always found corny dad jokes funny. “That’s so dumb.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled while gazing at you.

You let him for a moment longer before breaking the silence. “Goodnight.”

He grabbed the door knob. “G’night, (Y/N). You gave him a tight lined smile and watched as he closed the door behind him. 

After almost a month of rescheduling with him, you decided to give him a visit. It had to be without your new guitar this time. You couldn’t move on and do frivolous things with him without having a grown up talk first. You hadn’t realized how much time went by since the ultimatum until he came to visit. You hadn’t meant for so much time to go by, but the healing did not come as soon as expected. Everyday felt the same; no moving forward from what he did. 

One evening, you mustered up the courage to have that talk. You found him strumming away on the porch. Quietly, you walked up the wooden stairs in an attempt to not disturb the melodic tune. As soon as you entered his peripheral, he stopped playing.

“Hey.” Joel spoke softly. He sat down the guitar and focused on you.

“Hey.” You greeted back. You walked up to the front of the porch and leaned up against the wooden railing. He followed suit. You watched him pick up a mug. “What are you drinking?”

“Coffee.” He looked down at the dark liquid. “Not the one you got me for my birthday. A little embarrassed as to what I had to do to get this, but, ” He shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. “It's not bad.” Joel tried to ration the jar of coffee beans that you gave him, but the break up stressed him out which led him to find comfort in frequent cups of coffee. 

“I need you to stop harassing Jesse about my patrols. I do just fine with the group I’m with.” You blurted out. Before Joel visited you that night, Jesse mentioned in passing how Joel would ask him a ton of questions about you and your patrols.

“Okay.” He agreed before pausing. “Y’all are close, huh.” He took a sip of his drink.

“Who? Jesse and me?”

“I hear the way he talks about you.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I have a pretty keen eye for these sorts of things.” He said with a hint of humor in his voice to mask the pain.

“Well, you must be going blind.”

“I am really old.”

“Joel,” You sighed. “No, you’re not.” You said seriously. 

“Jesse is closer to your age---” He tried to reason.

“Joel,”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you two were...Look, I don’t know what his intentions are, but I do know that he would be damn lucky to have you.” 

“We’re not together.” You said before pausing. “You’re such an asshole! I was supposed to die in that fucking hospital!”

“I’m not trying to---” He tried to speak up.

“My life would have fucking mattered, but you took that from me!” You let out a breath to calm your boiling blood. You turned to Joel as he stood up straight.

“If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment,” He turned to look directly at you. Your eyes scanned his for any trace of remorse. “I would do it all over again.” Joel emphasized each word with a level of intensity. He gave you his famous glare to drive home his point. You looked away from him and thought about what he just confessed to you. “Those Fireflies refused to let me see you after I woke up in one of their hospital beds. I snuck through the hospital trying to find you. I ended up in the office of the doctor that was going to kill you. Files were opened on his desk. I looked through them.” Joel shook his head before leaning against the railing again. “They died, (Y/N). All the other people that they experimented on died. No, they weren’t immune; you were the only one. But, (Y/N), I have a feeling those folks didn’t choose to be there on their own. What I do know for sure was that nothing ever came of their deaths. They weren’t going to get any closer to a cure or vaccine with you than they were with any of the others.” His confident demeanor began to falter as he took in a shaky breath. 

“Then what happened?”

“I found you right before they were going to operate and I got us out of there.”

“The ‘Joel’ fashioned way, right?” You asked, in an attempt to make him feel remorse.

“I’m sorry that I lied to you, but I’m not sorry for what I did. All I wanted to do was protect you and they would have come back to kill you if I hadn’t.” 

You caught yourself before you started to cry. “I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that. Any of it.” You looked at him only for a moment before tears began to fall down your face. You looked away. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you either. “God.” You mumbled, deep in thought. “But I would like to try.”

Joel let out a shaky breath as if he was about to cry too. “I’d like that.”

“Okay. I’ll see you around.”

“Yep.” He responded with a lump in his throat. You could hear it in the way his voice cracked. You never heard his voice break like that before. Your heart ached as you walked down the wooden steps. 

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (part 7)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing.

----------

Later that day, Daphne was trying to distract herself from her jumbled thoughts. Between Matt and whatever the Italians were planning, she just wanted to chill. She had Breaking Bad on her laptop as she leisurely lay on the couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt. It would be dinner time soon and she was considering ordering take out so she didn't have to cook. She was pretty sure she didn't have much in anyway. Halfway through an episode, there was a knock at her door. She groaned as she stood, stretching her arms over her head until her back made a satisfying pop. Glancing out the peephole, she saw Foggy standing there. She groaned again before swinging the door open. 

"Daphne!" He grinned like he was surprised to see her in her own home despite him clearly coming here to see her. Her eyes drifted to his right hand which was holding a plastic bag.

"Can I help you, Foggy?" She asked patiently. 

"I was just… you know… in the neighbourhood and figured I'd swing by… with burgers," he flashed her a toothy smile and she folded her arms over her chest.

"Did Matt send you?" She asked suspiciously. She really hoped not, she wanted him to believe she was a grade A bitch and leave her alone.

"No, I just wanted to talk. But maybe when I did mention the possibility of me dropping in, Matt maybe seemed semi interested which may have made me more determined," he said vaguely. 

Foggy was almost as tiring as Matt but in a different way. She waved her hand to signal he could come in as she padded back over to the couch. He came in seeming more relaxed than the last time he was here and plonked himself down with ease into the armchair. 

"Look, I just wanna say that I'm sorry about Matt’s attitude," he started. She held a hand up right away to stop him.

"Stop. Don't apologise on his behalf when you've not done anything wrong. That's shit and means nothing. It's not your job to be apologising for him… besides, I haven't exactly been great either," she admitted reluctantly. He gave a tentative smile and nodded as he took out a burger from the bag. She took it with a grateful smile and started munching on it since she was so hungry. 

"I get it. I mean kind of. Matt's weird with you, obviously I'm his best friend so he's much nicer to me. He can still be an asshole at times though. But seeing you guys at the office was really something. Your personalities are a lot alike, I think," he mused as he bit into his own burger. Her jaw dropped, offence coloured her features.

"I'm nothing like him!" She argued with a scoff. He chuckled and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Mhm… sure. Either way, as much of an ass he can be, he's trying okay? Maybe… maybe you could also try a little harder to be nice," he suggested gently. She wanted to throw her burger at him but he wasn't completely wrong. She hadn't been making it easy but it was simply because she didn't like how she felt when she was around him.

"Can't make any promises," she retorted vaguely as she took another bite. Foggy just nodded, seeming to realise that was the best he would get from her.

"I do wanna say thanks though. For helping him when he really needed it. It means a lot to me that he has someone other than me who he can count on," he murmured softly. She glanced at him at the sincerity in his tone as she finished off her burger. 

"Can I ask you a personal question?" She asked curiously. 

"Only if I can ask one after," he bargained with a cheeky grin. She fully expected it though and nodded. It was only Foggy after all. She doubted it would be anything too crazy.

"Great, then shoot," he said confidently. 

"Do you ever just get sick of it? Being friends with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen? I mean if he goes down, you go down too. And not to mention the constant worry of him getting hurt or winding up dead," she said carefully. She remembered the tension between the friends at the office earlier. She wondered if they'd argued about Matt getting shot. 

Foggy looked conflicted for a second as he shifted in his seat. After a moment, he levelled a steady gaze at her.

"Matts like a brother to me. Sometimes I wish it was different. I didn't even find out about his secret until not too long ago. Sometimes I wished it was easy like it was back then. But it's not. And as hard headed as he is and as much as I worry, he's a good man. He wants to help people and make a real difference. So if I have to stress out about him getting hurt then it's the least I can do. He saves lives out there, more than the cops do. He genuinely makes a difference and I believe in what he does," he didn't falter in his speech and she found a pang of envy at how much Foggy seemed to care for Matt. There was such a strong loyalty there. 

She just nodded, accepting his words. There wasn't really a follow up to it; she was just curious about it. She guessed they could argue about Matt's safety until the world stopped rotating, but in the end Matt would always be Daredevil and Foggy would always back him up.

"What about you? Do you have any family or friends?" It was a simple question that he'd chosen but it made her uneasy nonetheless. She blew out a sigh and leaned back more on the couch.

"I've got family. My parents and an older sister and brother. My parents live in Hawaii now and my brother is a fancy brain surgeon. My sister Lisa lives in the suburbs. Two kids and a husband, living the housewife life," she snorted softly.

"Are you close to them?" He prompted curiously. She shook her head softly.

"Not super close I guess. I'd always been the odd one out growing up. Liked to use my fists, got in trouble a lot. Not really what my parents wanted from me and I didn't exactly live up to the reputation of my brother and sister. I'm closest to Lisa out of all of them but… we live very different lives. I don't get to see her or the kids too much," she admitted softly. Honestly it made her sad to think about. She'd never been super close with her parents or brother but Lisa always tried. Tried to be there and to understand her no matter how vastly different they were. She hadn't seen her niece and nephew in almost 6 months which felt like a lifetime. 

"What about friends?" Foggy asked cautiously. The pair were well aware this was more than the one personal question they'd agreed on but she allowed it anyway since it was connected.

"Does Brett count?" She snorted sheepishly. Foggy barked a laugh at her answer and shook his head.

"Oh no. That's so sad," he laughed. She found herself chuckling with him despite the fact he was right. 

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit abrasive. Not the best way to make friends," she smirked. He just shook his head ruefully.

"Well we need to work on your people skills. But for what it's worth, you've got a friend in Foggy Nelson," he grinned at her. She smiled and lowered her head.

"I don't know, Foggy. You're way too cheerful to be tainted by my darkness," she teased. He tossed his burger wrapper at her but she caught it.

"Now see, that just means we balance each other out well. I mean, you have seen who I'm best friends with, right?" He smirked. He wasn't exactly wrong. 

"Can't argue with that," she snorted. 

She found she didn't mind Foggy's company as much as she thought she would. He wasn't confusing and he was easy to be around. And she didn't have the urge to be a complete bitch to him like she did with most people. 

"Alright, I need to head back to the firm. We’re working late tonight on a case," he said as he stood. She followed suit and walked him to the door. 

"Thanks for stopping by and for the food," she murmured gratefully. She meant it too. He gave her a bright grin and nodded.

"Anytime. Thanks for letting me in and saving my best friend," he chortled. Rolling her eyes good naturedly, she pointed to the hallway. He laughed as he stepped outside. 

"Hope to see you soon, Daphne," he smiled before disappearing down the hallway. 

She blew out a breath before walking back to her trusty couch and flopping onto it. Foggy seemed like a good friend and he wanted to be friends with her. She found herself naturally trusting him and it didn't even bother her. The only issue was who he was best friends with. How could she be friends with Foggy and avoid Matt? It wasn't practical. But she enjoyed having someone to talk to like Foggy and the feeling of companionship he brought her. Now her brain hurt again. She decided on cleaning up the rubbish from the food and tidying up a little to clear her mind.

-------------

Foggy felt good as he strolled into the office. He felt like his trip had gone well. He really didn't know why Matt and Daphne seemed to butt heads so much, she was always pleasant to him. Then again, he was Foggy Nelson. He had the bag with the one remaining burger and as he walked inside the office, he tossed it on the desk in front of Matt.

"It's cold," Matt muttered with a frown as he got it out. Foggy didn't even feel bad, snorting as he sat in the seat on the opposite side of the desk.

"Yeah. I went to see Daphne and we ended up talking for a bit," he said casually, keeping his eyes on his best friend. He saw Matts eyebrows raise slightly before he forced himself to look neutral. Matt cared. He cared about everyone in this city, it's why he did what he did. He even cared about the welfare of the girl who pissed him off and confused him.

"Really? And uh… was she… alright?" Foggy almost snorted at how not nonchalant his friend was being. 

"She was fine. It was nice really. We ended up talking about her family and stuff," he replied, still watching Matts reactions. Matt actually looked stunned by that revelation as he started to eat his cold burger.

"I would have thought that was too personal to ask about," he said flippantly. 

"Yeah well, it's amazing what she's willing to talk about when you're not an asshole," Foggy teased, causing Matt to roll his eyes. He knew Matt was dying to know what he found out but that he was stubborn enough not to ask. He decided to just tell him anyway. It wasn't anything overly personal so he didn't feel like he was doing anything wrong by sharing what she'd told him.

"Her parents moved to Hawaii. From what she said it sounds like they don't really talk. Her brother's a neurosurgeon and I don't think she talks to him much either. Then her older sister, Lisa I think, lives in the burbs with two kids and a husband. She said she gets on with her sister the most but how they live different lives. But I don't know, man. She seemed… lonely. It was sad. I mean, when I asked if she had friends her only response was Brett," he explained sounding mortified.

"Jesus," Matt muttered, eyebrows raised as he set the wrapper down after finishing his burger.

"Exactly. But I let her know that I'm willing to be a friend if she needs one. And maybe if you were a little nicer then you could be too. Being isolated isn't a good feeling, Matt. She needs friends. She might not go out and kick ass like you, but she's still into some heavy shit. She needs support," Foggy lectured. 

Matt huffed a little and rubbed his temples as he looked over the desk at him.

"Why are you so set on this? We butt heads and I don't think it's going to change. Even when I'm nice to her, she flips like a switch. She's confusing and infuriating and there's no point in me trying," he insisted firmly.

"Fine, I'll leave it for now. But just try to keep it in mind. She might be the PI but I like to think I'm good at reading people. I don't think she's used to people really caring about her and maybe that makes her defensive and lash out? I'm not a psychologist, I don't really know. But maybe next time she goes all bitch mode, you just try to be patient with her," Foggy suggested carefully. Matt pursed his lips and just nodded stiffly. Foggy wasn't sure he was even listening at this point but at least he tried. He honestly thought the pair of them could do good things together if they got their heads out of their asses and worked as a team. 

[alcalavicci]

1988 interview with Dean. This is a really good one and helps bring more of his life into perspective. Note: the newspaper originally censored his swearing, but I’ve put it back.

Guthman, Edward. "Dean Stockwell: Third Time's a Charm." The San Francisco Examiner (San Francisco, California), August 14, 1988.

“Six years ago, Dean Stockwell's acting career had turned to dust. Reduced to playing parts in unreleasable, made-in-Mexico movies that now make him cringe, Stockwell decided to chuck it all and get out of Hollywood.

“Along with his second wife, Joy, Stockwell moved to Santa Fe, settled down under the wide New Mexico sky and applied for a real estate license. He even placed an ad in Daily Variety to announce his exile: 'Dean Stockwell will help you with all your real estate needs in the new center of creative energy.'

“Stockwell never sold a house; he didn't need to. Instead, almost as soon as he'd relocated, things started happening to the former 1940s child star. It began with a small part in David Lynch's 'Dune,' and escalated with an important supporting role in Wim Wenders' highly regarded 'Paris, Texas.'

“Moving back to California to cash in on his fortune, Stockwell acted in 'Beverly Hills Cop II,' 'Gardens of Stone,' and 'To Live and Die in L.A.' He also played a cameo role, as Howard Hughes, in the newly released 'Tucker: The Man and His Dream.' And in 'Blue Velvet,' David Lynch's American nightmare, he delivered a chilling cameo as Ben, a waxlike, sexually ambiguous drug dealer.

“And now, at 52, Stockwell says he's found 'the favorite role I've had, by far.'

“The picture is 'Married to the Mob,' a dark, romantic comedy by Jonathan Demme ('Melvin and Howard,' 'Stop Making Sense') and Stockwell plays Mafia don Tony 'the Tiger' Russo. Wearing an Al Capone fedora and full-length vicuna coat, Tony is a rich, sardonic, larger-than-life character -- the kind Stockwell has never had a chance to play until now.

“Opening Friday at the Galaxy and UA the Movies, 'Married to the Mob' has been touted as Demme's first shot at a genuine box-office winner. Set in Long Island, New Jersey and Florida, it stars Michelle Pfeiffer as Angela DeMarco, a young Mafia wife who tries to start a new life when her husband, Frankie 'the Cucumber' DeMarco, is pumped full of lead during a hot-tub tryst at the Fantasia Motel.

“When Stockwell's character isn't ordering hits, drug deals and the dumping of toxic waste, he's lusting assiduously after the gorgeous widow. Meanwhile, bumbling FBI agent Mike Downey (played by Matthew Modine) is jumping through hoops trying to shadow Angela and 'catch Tony with his pants down.' Instead, he falls in love with Angela.

“During a recent luncheon interview, not far from his central California home, Stockwell spoke about the film, about his new happiness as the father of two children and about the bizarre trajectory of his long career. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and slacks, wearing a Panama hat and drawing first on a cigaret, later on a cigar, Stockwell emanates prosperity and calm.

“'I don't know why I was unemployed so long,' he says, reflecting on a fallow period that started in the '60s and lasted the better part of two decades. 'The only thing I can figure out in my own mind is that, for some reason or another, I was being made to wait until a certain time in my life when my talent would reach its full maturity and fruition.'

“Ironically, he says, he felt just as equipped 10 years ago to do the work he's doing now -- 'only I couldn't get fucking arrested.'

“Today, Stockwell sees harmony in the fact that his new success coincides with the arrival of two children. His son, Austin, will be 5 in November, and his daughter, Sophia, turns 3 this month. Inordinately proud and protective, he refuses to allow his children to be photographed, and also requests that the town in which he and his family reside not be named. (There were no children from his first marriage, to Millie Perkins, which lasted from 1960 to 1962.)

“'I want to make a lot of money and I want to put it away for my children,' he says. To that end, Stockwell has been snapping up job offers. 'A lot of people ask me, "How have you been able to choose these wonderful things you're doing? Have you been very selective?" And I have to tell them, "I haven't been choosing what I'm doing." Things have been coming and I've been accepting virtually anything that's come.'

“Stockwell's ambition is so great that, for the first time in his life, he actively pursues aspects of his career that he once shunned- interviews, for example.

“'My entire motivation in life is my family,' he says. 'I don't need to get an award. I don't need recognition. I've had that already. What I need is to provide. The best way I can provide is to be successful, and the best way I can be successful is to take advantage of all the things at my disposal to achieve that, one of which certainly is press.'

“Take a look at the young Stockwell, specifically the version that emerges from old magazine and newspaper interviews, and you meet another person altogether.

“Robbed of a normal childhood, Stockwell had made 22 films by the time he was 15 -- including 'The Boy with Green Hair,' 'Kim,' 'Anchors Aweigh,' and the Oscar-winning 'Gentleman's Agreement.' Working nonstop, he had a privileged life that millions of children probably envied, but he loathed it nonetheless.

“The son of show-business parents -- his father, Harry Stockwell, was the voice of the Prince in 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,' and his mother, Betty Veronica, was a former stage dancer -- Stockwell made his professional debut at 7. It all happened by a fluke: when Stockwell accompanied his older brother, Guy, on a Broadway audition, the casting director took a liking to both boys, and cast each one. The play, aptly enough, was called 'Innocent Voyage,' and it led to an MGM contract for curly-haired Dean.

“From the beginning, the pressure on young Stockwell was intense. His parents had divorced when he was 6, and when his father defaulted on child-support payments, Dean reluctantly became the family provider. Over a six-year period, he averaged three to four films per year.

“At home, he says, 'There was a lot of friction... I was getting all the attention, but I hated it. [Guy] couldn't appreciate that, because he wasn't getting the attention. He had all these friends, his peer group, that he took for granted. I had none and I resented him for being able to live that way. I was fucking lonely.'

“When he was 13, chained to a seven-year contract, Stockwell was described by one magazine as 'a young rebel who despises acting and resents every moment it takes from his fleeting boyhood.' Many years later, Stockwell told columnist Hedda Hopper, 'Child actors exist in a sort of limbo between childhood and maturity and belong to neither. Adults take them too seriously and other children are either awed or hostile. A child actor can find friends in neither group.'

“Finally, Stockwell fled Hollywood when he was 16. He cut off his curly locks, started using his real name, Robert Stockwell, and for the next five years roamed the country, working menial jobs and disavowing his true identity. 'People that might have known me from seeing my films knew me as a young child,' he remembers. 'Now I was 17 and I wasn't that recognizable.'

“Around the time of his 21st birthday, Stockwell was pushing papers as mail boy to a Manhattan plumbing firm. 'Of all the jobs that I'd had in those intervening years,' he remembers. 'I think I hated that worse than anything. I came to the realization I had no training at anything. My primary education was very skimpy, very poor, and happened under the worst type of conditions. I was literally at the mercy of the world.'

“Most of Stockwell's childhood earnings were squandered by crooked accountants, he says, and he knew that the tiny sum being held in a trust wouldn't last forever. 'So I thought, "What am I gonna do? Well, let's go back and attack this [acting career] again, and see if I can do it a little more on my terms."'

“What followed for Stockwell was a brief but impressive 'second career.' He starred in the 1959 film 'Compulsion,' based on the Leopold-Loeb case of the '20s, and won a joint acting award with Orson Welles and Bradford Dillman at the Cannes Film Festival. He played the lead in the 1960 film of D. H. Lawrence's 'Sons and Lovers,' and in 1962 scored the plum role of Edmund Tyrone in Sidney Lumet's film version of 'Long Day's Journey Into Night,' holding his own alongside Katharine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson and Jason Robards.

“Stockwell was winning the best parts, but found his attention drifting elsewhere. What was happening, he says, were the first signs of the '60s youth revolution. 'It captured my imagination as much as anybody's. And it represented to me -- I can see this in retrospect -- something in childhood that I had missed: the freedom and loving being alive, without responsibilities and work and having to report to the studio every day, and deal with fans and interviews and shit that I hated when I was a kid.'

“So Stockwell called his agent, said, 'I'm not workin',' and dropped out once again. When he tried to come back three years later, though, 'I found it very difficult, 'cause I'd been out-of-sight, out-of-mind.' What followed was a long period of marginal employment: He found some TV work, took parts in low-budget trash ('The Dunwich Horror') and occasional oddities (Dennis Hopper's 'The Last Movie') and co-directed a film with musician Neil Young ('Human Highway') but often just didn't work at all. At one point, he went 18 months without a job.

“Today, along with his buddy Hopper, Stockwell is enjoying a major career renaissance. And with his starring role in 'Married to the Mob,' he says, he's never felt more confident.

“'I knew before I started the film that this character was going to work in spades,' he says, adding that Demme, as director, deserves credit for taking a risk with such offbeat casting. Instead of picking Peter Falk, Vincent Gardenia or another ethnically identified actor to play the Mafia don, he went with Stockwell (who is actually half-Italian on his mother's side).

“Demme's inspiration occurred on a flight from Los Angeles to New York, when he opened a copy of the Hollywood Reporter. Stockwell had just changed agents, and in order to announce the fact, had taken out a full-page ad. Demme saw the picture, and instantly recognized his Tony.

“Weirdly enough, Stockwell made another film immediately prior to 'Married to the Mob': a Canadian feature called 'Palais Royale,' due for an October release, in which he plays a character almost identical to Tony Russo.

“'It's very curious,' he says. 'For all my years I'd never had a role like this come my way, and here it was twice. The Mafia don in New York, the Mafia don in Toronto, both of them colorful and charming and also threatening. And I just thought, "What am I gonna do? It's the same character." So I decided to do the same character in both those movies.'

“To take the coincidence 'one nauseating step further,' Stockwell says he's also got a part in the recently completed 'Backtrack,' Hopper's next film. This time he plays a corrupt mob lawyer, dropping the Italian accent for a generalized East Coast sound.

“It would be difficult to find a film actor who's busier than Stockwell at this moment. And it would be difficult to find anyone whose job history better illustrates the vicissitudes, serendipities and insecurity of a Hollywood career.

“Looking back on his misfortunes -- at the career that he was forced to accept as a child, and the humiliation he felt when he couldn't maintain it as an adult -- Stockwell says he's not bitter. 'When you reach your maturity, I think it behooves you to accept the fact that it's absolutely futile and fruitless even to speculate on changing anything in your life. All you can do is get embittered. So I accept everything that's happened as part of my life, and try to push it in a positive direction from the moment right now.'”