#this is aimed at you rei

[isthataraccoon]

merry christmas lovelies!!! xxx

[unordinary-diary]

Remi and Swimming

Why can’t Remi swim?

That’s a genuine question. Why does Remi, at seventeen years old, not know how to swim?

After some quick research, I found that being unable to swim is actually way more common than I thought. Still, I want to speculate on Remi’s reason.

The Red Cross lists fear as the top reason people cited for not learning to swim. Other reasons I can think of for not learning to swim are: couldn’t afford lessons, didn’t live near a pool or body of water, disability, or simply never made time to learn.

However, in Remi’s case, I think it’s much more likely because of her ability than anything else.

It could be because her parents wanted to wait until she had better control of her ability before putting her in water with other kids. This of course, raises the question of why she didn’t learn before her ability developed. It could also be that someone in her family had an incident in the water, and the family was very cautious after that.

I personally like to believe that Rei had an ability-related incident when Remi was quite young, and her parents wanted to keep Rei out of the water until he could control his ability better. Because it would be mean to take Remi swimming and make Rei stay behind or on land, Remi’s lessons got put off indefinitely until they were forgotten about.

Of course, this scenario also means that Rei never finished learning to swim either.

I also like the idea that their mom was the one who had a swimming accident, and was somewhat traumatized by it and therefore extremely paranoid about putting her kids in the water. This explanation would also mean that Rei probably couldn’t swim.

I will now kindly place here for my own enjoyment, a reminder that Blyke was the one who taught Remi to swim and it was cute as fuck:

♡

[redbean-nom]

finally watched force awakens (because the orchestra was playing the score live) and. I am now more confused.it feels like i got up for a snack break and missed half the movie but apparently i did not

[primordyalsoul]

Wtf i wrote a thing. I didn't know i could do that.

[tazcoz]

dear wig stylist about to attempt rei ayanami,

please look at this image:

please stop giving her a bowl cut

ily,

taz

[syncopation53]

@leviaquinn except the Witness does talk to her and does tempt her as it did for Crow and Zavala, we just don’t see anything of it in-game. The armor sets from the raid all mention their reactions to what they see, with the class item having the lore tab of how the Witness seeks to tempt them with its definition of “salvation” (that it can bend and warp endlessly to suit its purpose). There’s nothing shown as of yet to suggest that this lore isn’t about what the Witness shows Crow or Zavala in the campaign. The lines on the Warlock set, Promised Victory, tell us of Ikora in what I assume is her beating Shaxx in the Crucible (“Shaxx is there. Gun in my hand, hot to the touch,” “we win. I win. One more round, just one more round”) and the bond details how the Witness connects that memory to its argument that the final shape is an eternal victory and not the eternal cycle of death and rebirth that Guardians are so used to in service to the Traveler. Ikora even calls her “greatest fear” reliving that moment, and how the Witness basically chastises her for believing the final shape is “a death sentence” is likely connected to her seeing that snapshot play out through the Witness’ crystalline dioramas and its promises of eternity through showing this memory in particular.

And imo there’s really no reason you could give me about why working our way down to the tree in pursuit of her being broken up by the Witness talking about the final shape as “triumph that does not wane” (that line does go hard I’ll give the Witness that) and Ikora’s rejection of it in turn wouldn’t be more interesting and engaging than just not doing that. I would have loved to see the temptations Ikora has and her reaction to having such placed front and center by the Witness for everyone there to see, or how she could use that to her own advantage, picking apart the Witness’ own words and finding the minuscule holes in its logic in service of her own hypothesis for what the final shape means to it and how we can fight back not just physically, but mentally as well and give the proceeding cutscene more personal weight for us and the one narrating it. I would love to see even just a glimpse into her thought process in that way, doubly so if that means we’d get more insight to her relationship with her Ghost Ophiuchus along the way like we get with literally everyone else, but of course Bungie just hates me and all other Ikora enjoyers specifically. (/s)

This is a jokey-joke shitpost but also me expressing frustration about how the campaign is structured so that Crow mentions Ikora is missing, we find her ship, we find her, we have a cutscene about the final shape, she talks in the after-mission campsite scene, and then we’re moving on to Zavala. I’m frustrated that one of the main characters on the cover image for The Final Shape, one-third of the Vanguard fireteam, who has also been with us since the very beginning like Cayde and Zavala have, feels like she’s being unceremoniously pushed aside to focus on other things in the narrative that’s billed as the grand finale to the saga that began with all three of them and will end with all three of them together again for one last ride. More important things that the writers actually care about. I get splitting focus between multiple characters and their storylines, I get it, some characters are just going to warrant more screentime than others by virtue of having an ensemble cast, but when one of those characters is one you promised to spotlight in the campaign itself and not just a lore card, I can’t help but begin to question your priorities, especially when that character is also a woman of color.

I’m far from the first and I won’t be the last to talk about this problem Destiny’s developed fairly recently of having… difficulties in centering female characters in storylines that could easily be made around them with the sheer amount of women in the cast who all have varied and interesting relationships to other women, or even just storylines that they’re in when there’s some guy for the story to obsess over right beside them instead. I’m not even immune to perpetuating this type of “casual” misogyny myself. But when you’re writing virtually anything with any number of female characters above 0 (and even then you can question yourself on why there are no female characters to begin with), you have to be careful and watch out for pitfalls involving writing them as no more than an obligation to check a Woman in Scene quota or eye candy or companion piece that doesn’t take up too much space lest the male characters have a little bit less focus for a moment. And all of that goes double for any female character who’s also a minority. I’m just one person raised in a society that’s absolutely soaked to the bone in misogyny, racism, and the confluence of both towards Black women in misogynoir, especially in media. Bungie, Inc. is an entire company making a AAA video game that reasonably should 1) know better, and 2) have editors to catch this sort of thing in its infancy and offer ways to restructure or reframe things like the suggestions I offered above to just balance out the scales just a little bit.

It’s not that they are incapable. Vanilla Destiny, The Dark Below, House of Wolves, the Eris parts of The Taken King, Red War, Warmind, post-campaign Forsaken, Season of Arrivals, Beyond Light, Season of the Chosen, Season of the Lost, The Witch Queen, one-third of Season of the Haunted, Season of the Seraph, Season of the Deep, Season of the Witch, and Season of the Wish prove that they, materially, can. A more probable explanation is that they just didn’t care to double-check themselves, no one spoke up about it in the planning stages, and/or higher-ups had a certain expectation for this expansion that had to be met at the cost of ideas from people who really did want to give every Vanguard member appropriate screentime. No one cared enough to question why or how or even if the most prominent female character of color in Destiny was being sidelined to focus on her male counterparts in lieu of deepening our understanding of her character further. No one cared enough to question if just having Ikora be there during the campaign might not be enough to satisfyingly conclude her character at the end of the Light and Darkness Saga. No one cared. Nothing was questioned. And so nothing was done.

And that’s just so frustrating to deal with from our end interacting with the final product.

So no Witness temptation Ikora mission?

[bookwormjust]

Nesta harsh words (established relationship with Cassian, you feel vulnerable for once)

You had always approached Nesta with kindness and empathy, understanding that her tough exterior was a shield she used to protect herself. That didn’t make it any easier when she directed one of her harsh comments at you, particularly when you were in a vulnerable state.

The evening had been going well—a quiet gathering with the family, a rare moment of togetherness. You had been chatting with Feyre and Elain, laughing softly at some lighthearted story, when Nesta’s voice cut through the conversation. 

“Not everyone can be a perfect little angel all the time,” Nesta said sharply, her eyes fixed on you. “Sometimes it’s okay to be a bit more real.”

The comment was direct, and while you understood that it wasn’t necessarily aimed to hurt, the sting was unmistakable. It felt as though her words were a personal attack, even if that wasn’t her intention. You managed to keep your smile in place, though it faltered slightly. Your heart sank, and you tried to shrug it off, reminding yourself that Nesta’s barbed remarks were more about her own struggles than about you.

Cassian, who had been chatting with the others across the room, immediately picked up on the shift in your demeanor. His gaze, sharp and protective, flicked between you and Nesta, his eyes darkening with concern.

“Hey, Nesta,” Cassian’s voice came out low and firm, a warning note in his tone. “That wasn’t called for.”

You placed a calming hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright, Cassian,” you said softly, trying to defuse the situation before it escalated. “I’m fine. Really.”

Nesta’s eyes widened slightly, her expression shifting from defensive to puzzled, though she didn’t apologize. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she muttered, though her tone was still blunt.

You offered her a small, forgiving smile. “I understand. It’s okay.”

Cassian’s protective nature was evident, but he respected your attempt to handle the situation with grace. He gave you a reassuring squeeze before turning back to Nesta, his expression softening as he tried to bridge the gap between them. 

As the evening continued, you did your best to appear unaffected, engaging in conversations and laughter as if nothing had happened. Inside, however, you were struggling to push aside the hurt. You wrapped your arms around yourself, more out of instinct than for warmth, and focused on the comforting presence of Cassian nearby.

Later, when the gathering had dwindled and everyone had started to disperse, Cassian’s hand found yours, his touch warm and grounding. He led you to a quieter corner, away from the others, his expression a mix of concern and tenderness.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle but filled with worry. “You seemed really hurt by what Nesta said.”

You met his gaze, doing your best to smile reassuringly. “I’m okay, Cassian. I really am. I know how Nesta can be, and I’m used to it.”

Cassian’s frown deepened, his protective instincts clearly at odds with his understanding of the situation. “You shouldn’t have to just accept her harshness. You’re too kind for that.”

You squeezed his hand, appreciating his concern even as you tried to downplay the incident. “It’s alright. I’d rather not make a fuss about it. She’s going through a lot, too. I just want to be there for everyone.”

Cassian’s gaze softened, though a trace of frustration remained in his eyes. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. “Just remember, you don’t have to take it all on yourself. I’m here for you, always.”

You nestled against him, letting his warmth and strength ease the lingering sting of Nesta’s words. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft and filled with gratitude. “I know you are. And that means everything to me.”

He held you a little tighter, his touch conveying both his love and his frustration at not being able to shield you from every hurt. “We’ll get through this,” he said quietly, his voice a steady reassurance.

You nodded against his chest, feeling the comfort of his presence. “Yes, we will.”

The night continued, but the pain from Nesta’s comment slowly faded, softened by Cassian’s unwavering support and the love that surrounded you. You knew that with him by your side, you could face any harshness, and that no matter what, he would always be there to protect and support you.

[dunmeshistash]

Dear Dungeon Master, if Marcille is cool and professional to strangers and warm and friendly to people she knows, does that make her a tsundere??

WELL if you're gonna come to me with the weeb terms I must weeb it out

She wouldn't be a tsundere, by that description she would be a Kuudere (Cool at first but cute on the inside) instead of a Tsundere (mean/agressive at first but cute on the inside) but she doesn't really fit that either tbh

I think her that distant persona only comes out when she's very upset like when Falin left her and when she first met back with them, the way she acts in front of the other students in the magic school reads more as a cool oneesan or senpai type, covers 33 and 57 so you can compare both

She acts calm and collect but in a polite gentle "I've got this" way

Which is not tsundere nor kuudere, those tropes kinda demand it to be a constant part of said character, famous tsundere kuudere duo is Asuka and Rei from evangelion, both of them protect their true feelings by putting up a front, Asuka puts up an agressive and assertive front and Rei puts up a detached and uninterested front, those might be things that real people/more realistic characters do but they fit into the trope because they are that to the extreme (animanga is usually made of extremes, an exaggeration of real life)

Dungeon Meshi is a seinen so it's aimed at an older audience and the exaggerations get lessened because of it, so none of the characters really fit the dere tropes, the closest one is Mithrun who I read as a Kuudere (which I love) at first, although I think he might still fit even if his character is actually more nuanced.

Anyway, no Marcille is not a tsundere and dungeon meshi doesn't really uses the common character tropes for anime so it's hard to fit them in those.

[peachsukii]

i took the day off too, gotta show my devotion to my favorite citrus boy

taking a 4 day weekend for the haikyuu movie premiere

[moonastro]

the vibe you give out to others

pick a picture

left to right(top)-> 1,2

left to right(bottom)-> 3,4

°DO NOT take this as literal, take everything with a grain of salt as this is purely and intendedly for entertainment purposes. °Don't be afraid to give feedback and opinions about this post (as i would entirely appreciate it). ° This is a GENERAL reading, take what resonates and leave and pass on what does not!

PILE ONE

someone who can communicate hours on end with someone, usually about the deeper stuff. so you may like to share your thoughts a lot which leaves people guessing that you would be a very good person to talk to. you also are good with reading the vibes of a room, people almost expect you to change the atmosphere of the vibe within a group. you really are someone who solves problems, situation ships and other things people may need assistance with. i feel like you help others grow, you teach people from wrong or right and perform humanitarian acts. if you are in a bad situation, you get the heck out of there as soon as possible, people know that because you may express your thoughts and feeling through communication. i feel like you talk about the little things to others that they might even find that you can be oversharing at times. anyhow, you may look back on what people did you in the past or vice versa. you don't hold onto a thread, you make very clear decisions that take you wherever it may.

yeah, you learn from your mistakes and only go forward which makes you a stronger individual. there is still some youthful energy surrounding this pile, so don't forget to not be hard on yourself all the time, you give out but not necessarily get given back which allows people to use your time unnecessarily. people can also see a child in you, you may get told that you remind someone of their son or daughter. being behind the scenes is what you are used to and may project a certain insecurity that others notice. i feel like its that others see their own insecurities in you as well which may cause jealousy. you are careful though, you plan, you observe and you double check. there is nothing wrong with being in routine but i feel like people notice that you are too afraid of failure because you might have grew up to be the high achieving kid or the oldest child who had influence on the younger siblings and so forth. overall a very sensual and hardworking pile.

assigned song: Black beauty- Lana Del Rey

PILE TWO

very energetic around people or friends and family but think a lot by yourself, you may keep your true self hidden. you are such a good manifester and people notice that whatever you say out loud becomes real. people may call you a psychic because you just know things before others do, for example if a friend asks about something like an event and you just tell them like "watch this happen in there" and something like this and it happening. you are quite reserved with your feeling and emotions, you use them on better things. around you, others feel confident and secure. you are a very good empath and feel whatever others are feeling, so it is very easy to empress ones feelings to you. you are such a caring and observing individual that others feel nothing but security and comfort around you. honestly such a nostalgic pile!!

you crave a free life where you are not stuck to anything or anyone, people feel the freedom you possess. you don't aim to be powerful nor business oriented, you just want to see what's out there and see what other cultures and countries have in store for you. i feel like you have a plan that you have that consists of you travelling abroad and creating a happy home there at a new setting. you are good with legal matters like documents, credit cards, the law and so forth. you may know about it as you may be interesting in becoming a lawyer or working somewhere that involves a law, like police and so on. but on a real note, you balance everything out in your life, people see how well you split your routine in even pieces. overall, this is a very free spirited and intelligent pile!

assigned song: Ride- Lana Del Rey

PILE THREE

someone who reserves there space and energy, someone who talks very cautiously and are aware of their surroundings. a lot of people don't actually know how to figure you out and it may sound very cliché but i think its just because you don't reveal your feelings by making facial expressions and people don't know whether to laugh or cry when you tell them something serious. you might like to do stuff alone and may feel like a burden to others but it is not the case for other people, they see you as a sweet and isolated human being that likes their space and peace. i see a LOTTT of overthinking and just daydreaming in general. i feel like something is restricting you from taking action and i think it is your thoughts, relax pile 3😅. no but for real, others avoid you not because you are unlikable but because they see how you thrive alone and you don't look like the type of person that needs help from others.

you may have moved a lot as a child and felt like you lost many things because of that. i feel like you don't feel secure and people notice the disease you portray in your body language. that is totally not a bad thing but i feel like others see the frustration and a void that you have, this is very deep but I'm getting an image of just a black figure which may translate of you feeling numb or not feeling anything at all. i feel like this was in the past for some of you, however where there is hardships there is hope and that is exactly the case for this pile. on a good note, your smile brings comfort to others, may make others happy with your smile and that's just so sweet. you do have many ideas flooding in your mind and i feel like that could bring you excesses so be careful. you have many ideas to start over or to change your personality completely. overall, this is a very reserved and a busy mind pile!

assigned song: How to Disappear- Lana Del Rey

PILE FOUR

check out pile one if you felt drawn to it as it may resonate with some of you!! so, you care about others very deeply and this gives me motherly vibes. i feel like you may not listen to people and do your own thing but that's entirely okay but the way i see it is that you sometimes need to take advice in order to move forward. you stand your ground fairly and see the contrast between right and wrong, i feel like that gets people thinking how you pick up on things others don't pay much attention to. say if you called someone out for something, others may go like "oh yeah, i didn't even notice". you really cant be bothered to argue with no one, you feel like there is no point because people are childish and immature and that is something you would rather pass on. conflicts and any other sort of fighting is a strict no go for you. people get the vibe of how can you keep your cool??? they actually are very impressed of your skill to maintain your cool😊. i feel like also you go through very transformative periods in your life that actually change your way you act, maybe you go through different eras and like to experiment different styles and ways of living which is totally fine.

wow, you are a very powerful soul, you have some sort of power that others are stunned. you are literally the lion of the jungle, the boss, the CEO, the millionaire, the royal. WOwww just wow. people just keep getting surprise on surprise from you, you may have so many precious hidden facts about you that make people stunned by the fact that you have so much treasure hidden. people see you as a very humble individual who is always there for people and see the good in everyone. it is such a pleasure to be around you, people may feel almost lucky to have you in their life. you hold a lot of secrets as you may stand with he statement that if you talk about your achievements to others it may delay your success. overall, a very very very powerful and mysterious pile.

assigned song: LION- (G)-idle

that's it everyone, thanks for sticking by and like always don't be afraid to interact with this post however you'd like as i entire appreciate everyone's support and kindness!!

FRIENDLY REMINDER- paid tarot readings are available (DM or check out here for more info!!)

*IMAGES ARE NOT MINE*

[jinx-xxed]

Too Late (Almost)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Edited through this older piece since I still enjoy it :) also cuz I haven’t posted in forever hey guys

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; When presented with the choice of winning the battle or saving the one he loves, which path will Kylo Ren take?

Content; Angst, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Commander reader, original characters, Kylo POV and reader POV, Rey vs. Kylo, redoing that TFA fight basically, but now in the TROS timeline yay!, Force bonded to Kylo, Force visions, blood and injury, reader almost dies whoops, battle, Kylo saves you, murder, Kylo chooses you, whole bunch of conflicting emotions, longing, possible down bad behavior

Wc; 2.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Rey grunts against the force of his swing, her heels digging into and slipping against the snow covered ground beneath them. Red sparks against blue, creating a sort of purple mix of light that reflects off her face and his mask. It’s so reminiscent of their first conflict, of the fight in those snowy woods outside of Starkiller Base, where he had lost. Kylo won’t lose this time. He’s stronger, he’s better, he won’t be bested by his outlandish and fleeting desires to have someone who understood because he thought he had no one, to have someone to teach to prove to himself that this wasn’t for nothing.

It’s just them in this clearing, sparse, dying trees surrounding them, snow flying up around their legs and soaking into their clothing. Their hair is plastered to the edges of their cheeks, determination and fury burning in both of their eyes. Determination not to lose, determination to get out of this in one piece. Rey slashes at him, a downward swing that he blocks and jerks his lightsaber upwards, taking hers with it. She steps away to just narrowly avoid the middle swing he aims at her abdomen, going into the defensive again. She slips against the ground, her lightsaber unable to come up and protect her when he prepares another attack, leading her to resort to the strength of the Force. He feels an invisible power blocking his lightsaber, creating a weird effect with the plasma where it’s stuck in the air mid-swing, quivering beneath the Force. With her next breath, Rey rears up and tries an underhand slash, one which he dodges by darting backwards.

The dance is familiar, one Kylo’s practiced time and time again with different partners. It doesn’t scare him, doesn’t illicit the type of fear it does in Rey. She’s scared of losing, of what could happen to her if she does. She knows she’s at a natural disadvantage with him beating her out in almost every aspect, and yet it’s her courage that keeps her going. It’s something intangible that keeps her from bowing to his power—her defiance and spirit. He recognizes the spark in her eyes, because he’s seen it so many times in someone else’s. In someone who is so unbreakable it infuriated him, in someone who is his equal in every way, in someone who has been with him through just about everything.

Lightsabers burn gashes into trees, the wood smoking and burning orange, snow melts from the heat, only to be replaced by a flurry disturbed by the two of them. In the distance, there’s more fighting, more smoke, more blaster fire, more ship engines screaming. But here, it’s like they’re in their own isolated world away from it all. Rey misses a swing, her form falters, and he takes his chance. He uses the Force like the surge of a wave, overwhelming his opponent before she can react, slamming it against her body and sending her off balance. She yells, her back connecting violently with a tree, bringing her to her hands and knees in the white coldness of the snow. He advances with the easy, ruthless power of a predator as she struggles to get back to her feet. The opportunity is open before him, feeling like the sight of a clear sky after days of endless clouds, he only needs to-

Help.

The voice echoes through his mind, it makes his entire body freeze, like he’s unable to move even if he wanted to. It comes from far off in the trees, in a blood soaked clearing, where there’s only pain and anger and a desperate reach outwards. He heard her, her single word ringing louder than any other thought that may occupy his attention. His head turns ever so slightly, just a small tilt to the left, towards that direction. Rey is beginning to get up, she’s readying her saber, she’s prepared to fight again—but she’s studying him as well, curiosity sparking from the sudden change of his demeanor. She recognizes the way something has called him, something she couldn’t hear but could feel like a ripple across a still lake.

She’s alone, his Commander is alone, fighting to keep herself upright in a battle that’s quickly tipping in a direction that is not in her favor. He sees it in flashes across their bond, the imagery so vivid it’s like he’s there, living it through herself. There’s so many of them, all coming from between the trees with weapons brandished and with a determination to make this her resting ground. It was all planned out; get one of them alone, funnel them away from their soldiers and comrades so they can be overwhelmed and overrun, brought down by those they’d spent so long crushing beneath their heel. They knew he’d be too focused on Rey, blinded by his rage, so that left only one remaining. Her Fleet is nowhere to be found, instead fighting their own battles, working together in the skies with the methods they’d been taught. Her breath is forced from her lungs as she’s brought to the ground. He feels it, the way his chest is threatening to cave in on itself, the burning, phantom pain within his right arm and left side.

The scene disappears suddenly and is instead replaced by something else, something formed and created by the otherworldly powers of the Force. He recognizes the hazy look of a vision, a glimpse into one of many possible futures. He watches, powerless, as she’s pinned, grappling hopelessly against a woman with a blaster aimed right at her head. Kylo’s torn from the vision just as the blaster goes off, the sound of it echoing in his skull.

A sudden despair washes over him, a type he’s never felt before and isn’t sure what to do with. It has no weight behind it, being simply the tip of the iceberg of what’s to come depending on what decision he may make. But it’s enough to make him want to fall to his knees. He’s thrown back into his body, his feet feeling unsteady beneath him, the crackling of his lightsaber filling his ears instead of the screech of a blaster. His eyes lift to Rey, his mind reaches for the forest. Two choices, two paths, two outcomes. That’s what it always is, isn’t it? One or the other, he can’t have both.

His fists clench, the ridges of his lightsaber hilt bite into his palm, Rey’s expression hardens, her legs separating into a battle stance. There’s a voice in his head that hisses at him angrily, demanding he not make this choice, demanding that he do what he’s supposed to, what he’s meant to. Weak, useless, too much of your father in you. He listens to it for a moment, listens to its whispers that have plagued him for years.

But then that despair from before pierces him like a stake, yelling at him, grabbing onto him, begging him to listen just this once. There’s a dam that breaks, a cage that opens and frees the bird trapped inside, flying in a way it always dreamed of. He takes a stumbling step back, a final moment of hesitation, like giving himself a chance to reconsider. It’s futile; he made up his mind a long time ago.

And then Kylo runs. He runs in the opposite direction, he runs from Rey, he runs from his victory, he runs from every lesson beat into him, and he instead runs towards something else entirely. Towards his hope, his respite, his safety, his partner, his everything. He feels deep down in the most core parts of himself that he just crossed a line he’ll never be able to uncross—and he finds that he doesn’t want to. Snow tries to suck him down, decaying plants grab at the edges of his robes, that hissing voice inside his head screams, but he ignores it all. Nothing can stop him now. His breath burns in his lungs, icy and angry and desperate. He feels her so acutely, feels her pain and every emotion and thought within her head, and it’s this that makes him realize he doesn’t know what to do were that to suddenly disappear, snuffed out like a flame, leaving him feeling like he’s missing the second half of himself. He’s been too late for a lot of things; too late to make up for what he’s done, too late to make things different, too late to make the right choice.

Please don’t let him be too late for this.

» ☆ «

“I thought you were the good guys.”

The blaster readjusts in the hands holding it, the barrel shifting upwards like it wants to give you a better view of where your demise is going to come from. The woman behind it keeps one eye shut, the other glaring at you as she snarls at your words. “We are the good guys.”

The face of this girl you used to know is now foreign to you, aged by the terrors of war and the fight for survival just like yours is. You can’t even remember her name. Your hand shakes desperately against her wrist, as if it’ll do anything to keep back the inevitable. Blood drips down into your left eye, your breathing rasps past your lips. Your other hand lays limp in the snow, a blaster shot cutting clean through your forearm and rendering it useless. Your lightsaber is somewhere nearby, knocked from your grasp at the same moment an elbow had connected with your jaw.

“You say that, but you all stoop to the same levels you criticize us for.” You spit at her, bloody teeth bared. “What do you think this is? A game to see who can come out on top with more innocence? Don’t kid yourselves.”

The girl’s eyes flare with anger so acute you can see the sparks. She brings her heavy-booted foot down on the blaster wound in your arm, putting as much pressure as possible. You choke out a scream as pain eats you alive, nausea blooming in your stomach. Blood spurts beneath the sole of her shoe, trickling down your charred skin and onto the snow below. “Quit talking like you fucking know anything. You’re vile. You get off on killing us. You deserve whatever fate waits for you in hell.” She jerks your hand off her wrist, gripping it and twisting sharply. Bones crack, more agony. Your mouth merely hangs open, sound unable to come out as your vision flashes white.

You feel as though your body is not yours, your pain cutting the ropes that kept the second part of you inside, allowing it to linger nearby as if this is all happening to someone else. Maybe it’s because you’re empty of your abilities, your muscles and blood no longer able to harbor the power of the Force. You’d used it all up a while ago when you were fighting a different group of rebels. Now you’re left so depleted you can’t even call your lightsaber to you, nor can you seem to keep your soul inside your own body. You look again at the blaster in her hands, you look into the black pit of the barrel. Is that what it’ll feel like? Black nothingness? You think so.

There’s nobody nearby to hear you, to come help—save—you. The Fleet is off fighting their battles in the skies, Kylo is occupied with Rey, you can’t call for backup. This was the rebels plan, after all. They wanted you to separate so you weren’t as strong, so that you could be taken down easier. You’ll admit that they were smart in taking the risk, it clearly worked in their favor. You should’ve been smarter, you should’ve noticed the signs and known not to follow the bait. You should’ve kept your head clear rather than letting the idea of this victory cloud your thoughts. You should’ve known to check your surroundings through the Force so you didn’t get overwhelmed by the rebels. You were stupid in the heat of the moment and you’re going to pay for it. You deserve it. You left BB-12 back in your ship so he didn’t get injured—even if he is a droid. You hope he’ll be okay.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the action using too much strength that you don’t have. The cold of the snow is setting in, making your body numb. Your pain seems so far away when it’s like that. There’s a shift, the blaster clicking, and you know what’s going to happen. That’s fine. You couldn’t escape it forever.

You expect it to happen, for that shot of hot plasma to pierce through your heart and for all of this to come to an end. Your limbs relax in preparation—but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s an explosion of noises all at once. Your ears feel like they’re submerged in water but you can still hear the screams in fear and anger and confusion, the stomping of feet as people try to run, and the screech of an unstable lightsaber as it swings through the air and through human flesh. The weight of that girl on your chest is lifted so rapidly that breath finds its way back into your lungs in a heaving gasp that has your entire body burning in agony.

It takes less than a minute before silence settles over the clearing. The smell of fresh death hits your nose. You can barely manage to open your eyes again, merely squinting up at Kylo standing over you. His black uniform makes him cut such an intimidating shape against the white backdrop of the snow and watery sky, the silver lining on his helmet reflecting it. His breathing is coming out as ragged static through his modifier, chest heaving. His lightsaber clicks off and he attaches it to his belt, calling yours to him as he does and putting it right next to his own.

It feels like a dream that he’s actually here, that he picks you up and cradles you so carefully so he doesn’t irritate your wounds. When he lifts you, you see the carnage he left. Every rebel lays dead on the ground, their bodies getting buried under the snow that’s begun to fall. Kylo’s warmth under your cheek almost doesn’t feel real… you should be dead. You deserve to be dead. When you sent out that final plea through the Force, you never expected him to answer.

“I’m sorry.” You croak. “I messed it up. You lost them because of me. You should’ve left me-“

“Don’t.” Kylo snaps. Your body jostles with his movements as he walks. “Don’t say that.“

Even with your fading strength, you can still feel him through the bond you share. He was terrified, he was terrified of the possibility of losing you. He was terrified of how willing you were to give up; he could sense those final moments. He’s so angry at himself for nearly letting it happen, for letting the rebels get the upper hand like this.

“We will find them again,” he promises you. He pauses, the silence filled with the crunch of snow beneath his boots. “The same could not be said if I lost you.”

[blackdollette]

"got your bible, got your gun." || part five.

꒰ ៹ . "𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 .𝟑𝟖 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒."

tough. - lana del rey + quavo

୨୧˖-ׁ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: practice makes perfect...

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: new ! bau ! female ! reader x jealous ! spencer

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: possibly fluffy, somewhat playful banter

ㅤㅤㅤ꒰ ៹ . 🍒 previous chapters: 𝐈 , 𝐈𝐈 , 𝐈𝐈𝐈 , 𝐈𝐕

a couple of months in the analysis unit had been more than enough time for you to prove your glowing ethics and efficiency when covering cases. but how good of an agent were you if you couldn’t even stick a bullet in a cardboard man’s flat head?

“...damnit…” you mutter under your breath, watching as your stray bullet somehow managed to swerve and hit the parchment square in the chest, which would’ve been great if you hadn’t been aiming for his leg.

watching idly from the entrance of the shooting range, spencer felt an amused grin tug at his lips. between the tug that pulled at his heartstrings and the sight of you struggling (your seemingly only flaw), he couldn’t deny the stream of delight and supremacy that surged through his veins. even though he failed his gun qualification not once, not twice, but four times.

but still, the feeling of triumph was like a breath of fresh air after months of constantly being outshone by you.

“no offense, doctor,” he dragged out the last word as usual, never forgetting to sprinkle it with just a trace of disdain, “but it’s pretty clear that you have no clue what you’re doing.”

you sigh, putting your arms to your side and clutching the handgun that sat loosely in your grip. you had heard when he came in and to be honest, you were almost certain that the only reason you couldn’t hit your target was because of the feeling of his hazel eyes obsessively burning holes in your back for the past 30 minutes. 

“laugh it up, doc.” you said dismissively, getting your arms back into position and pointing the gun straight at the shabbily pierced cardboard man. “i’ve almost got it, anyway.”

he sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, hands shoved in his pockets. “not with that posture you don’t.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pulled back the earmuffs on your head, finally turning back to look at him in all his skinny, nerdy glory. you had never seen anyone pull off such an ugly sweater vest the way he did.

“what’s wrong with my posture, genius?” you placed a hand on your hip, watching his smug demeanor subtly wither away.

he cleared his throat, taking a cautious step forward. “for starters, you’re shoulders are hunched. pull them back a little and maybe you’ll actually hit the target.”

you narrowed your eyes slightly, trying to hide the fact that every single word had tattooed itself in your brain. 

he continued his instructions. “next, keep your feet shoulder-width apart. that’ll help you balance.”

you nodded slowly, visualizing the movements in your head.

“finally, apply pressure with both of your hands. i noticed that you allow your dominant hand to do all the work. try to distribute the tension evenly.”

spencer obviously didn’t mean to openly admit that he had been analyzing you and had only realized his screw-up when he saw a sly grin spread across your face.

“whatever you say, doctor…” you said quietly, facing your target once again and forcing your body into the instructed stance. you stood awkwardly, hands shaking slightly as you held them stiffly in front of you. clearly the boy-genius wasn’t as good of an instructor as he thought.

he cringed slightly, pulling his hands from his pocket as he approached you.

“you look like a marionette with a deranged puppeteer.” he gestured toward your feet pointing awkwardly toward eachother, your shoulders squeezed together, and your shaking arms.

you quickly fixed your posture, standing upright once again. “and who do i have to thank for that?” you asked sarcastically.

spencer held back a little laugh. as much as he found it hard to like you, he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t like the way you quickly snapped back at him and fearlessly put him in his place.

“okay, okay. just… hold still.”

with a few more careful steps he found himself standing directly behind you, using all his might not to rub up against you. he took your arms in his hands, pulling them up until they were angled perfectly with the target.

though this whole scene was undoubtedly inappropriate, you felt an odd sense of security sizzle in your chest.

“...feet shoulder-width apart…” his breath felt warm at the top of your head, leading you to obey him subconsciously. he nodded with approval, letting out a low hum.

“excuse me, reid, but i’m pretty sure if i landed a spot in the BAU, i’m more than capable of shooting a little gun on my own. how hard can it be?”

as you asked that question, he bit back the scientifically proven, and clearly unwanted tidbit of information that threatened to spill from his lips, deciding to say something much less mature, as he held your arms in place.

“has anyone ever told you how hard-headed you are?” he asked matter-of-factly.

you stay quiet, slightly taken aback by the boldness of the question. “no. but there’s a first time for everything, i guess. now am i holding this thing right or not?”

his hands snaked forward until they caressed yours, helping you keep a gentle but firm grip on the weapon. a soft sigh slipped through your lips as the tension in your body released. this was much better.

while you should’ve thanked spencer for the support, you were having a bit too much fun being stubborn. “why’re you helping me out anyway…”

your question caught him off guard. he had been wondering that himself. he didn’t even know why he had stayed in the corner watching you in the first place. but the addictive feeling of finally being better than you at something was too good for him to turn down. 

he sighed, speaking quietly. “i don’t know. i can relate to you, i guess. the gun qualification was the only test that i didn’t ace on the first try.”

you let out a small laugh. even his humility was laced with the fact that he and his all-knowing gray matter could do no wrong.

spencer felt a smile spread across his own lips as well, but a feeling in his gut stopped it from blooming. this temporary moment of paradise had let him to forget what terms you and him were on.

he cleared his throat, his lips inching toward your ear until he finally gave you the signal.

“now pull the trigger. nice and steady, don’t move your arms.”

a deafening bang rang through the room. your eyes instantly slammed shut, your body jerking back into his as you sent the bullet soaring forward. you panted heavily, the wind being knocked out of you from the impact. the thunderous noise was followed by an expecting silence.

“...atta, girl…” spencer whispered, finally encouraging you to open your eyes. a wave of relief surged through your body. you had hit the target head-on, making it the perfect shot.

you stood there, mouth agape as you stared through the hollow space in the center of the man’s head. a genuine smile graced your lips as you turned back, looking at the vestige of the proud expression that rested on his face.

“...thank you, spencer.” you said with formality that he couldn’t help but respect. with a pep in your step that hadn’t been there before you left the range, leaving him alone with his web of thoughts.

on one hand, he had helped a girl that probably had no experience with weaponry in her life. that should’ve given him at least a thread of pleasure, right? but instead, he was filled with the realization that he had just fed his only opponent the last thing she needed to be a fully qualified member of the unit. 

and he had served it to you on a silver platter without you having to lift a finger.

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[eldritch-spouse]

I just had a brilliant idea

What if we do ring toss with your horned ocs but instead of throwing rings I throw my panties at their horns?

(Rest in tears Vesper)

Considering the horn setups we have here, some of these will be quite challenging...

Who's to say Vesper can't catch them with his head tendril? Just toss them, you will find he has great reflexes.

Insults your aim: Mervin; Ludwig; Kalymir

Berates you for being a pervert: Cero; Eleri; Primin

"Skill issue" when you fail: Rei; Grimbly; Roch

Actively angles their horns to catch your panties: Santi; Obie; Nick; Berle

Blushing furiously: Fasma; Jayde; Nena; Vorago; Hudd

"But why??": Rieba; Adrul

Doesn't budge (but keeps them): Flints; Miara; Zizz ; Lucidia

You're failing no matter what and they're heartbroken: Lemoana; Rinx; Lacai

Puts them on: Livius

Begin running immediately: Krulu

[girlboybug]

Ultraviolence

"he hit me and it felt like a kiss."

or the one where ellie finds refuge in your farm house, whereas joel only finds a challenge of self restraint when he meets you.

what’s playing 🎧 : ultraviolence by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x female!reader

word count : 9k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, mean!joel, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, manhandling, rough sex, spitting, slight voyeurism if you squint, f!masturbation, m!masturbation, spanking, fingering, slight dom/sub dynamics, panties fetish, creampies, unprotected sex, breeding kink, light restraining, choking, tummy bulge, impact play if u kinda squint and tilt ur head, degrading, light praise, daddy kink im sorry yall (not rlly), unspecified age gap, dirty talk, fluff for 2 seconds at the end :p

TRIGGER WARNINGS : reader has emotionally absent/verbally abusive dad, takes place after the david incident but there's zero mention of it lolz just background for yall, joel is mean and rude tbh, kinda very toxic but im addicted to old toxic men sowwy (plz dont ever let a man treat yall like this irl!!) anyways this is all i can think of, lmk if i missed anything! otherwise pls enjoy!! <3

a/n : wouldn't be a fic written by user girlboybug if the reader didn't have raging daddy issues lolz

there’s creaking at the front patio, the old wood worn down by countless stomps from your boots never failed to act as an alerting system for any trespassers. your heart sinks when you force yourself to get up, the responsibility to inspect the origins of the noise falling on your shoulders alone. 

yippie. 

your hand finds its hold around the neck of your dad’s shotgun, sock covered feet waiting a pregnant pause at your door, swallowing down the brunt of your nerves thickly. you inch out the door, holding the shotgun as steady as you can, eyes fighting to not fail you by succumbing to the night blur that glazes over your vision. 

your sights land on a figure of a man, anxiety hitting you with the heel of its fist into your nervous system once his silhouette becomes clear before you. you pointedly aim at him, praying that the act seems intimidating enough. “you’re trespassin’” you call out, prompting him to raise his hands beside his head, keeping his movements slow and careful as to not give you a reason to shoot. 

“just lookin for shelter ma’am,” he replies, his voice feels deep when it hits your ears, not stopping short of rich. “not buyin’ it. now i’m not gonna repeat myself, leave before i blow your goddamn head off,” you shoot your threats in the place of bullets, but your tone gives out on you, giving in to your fear, cracking in on itself mid sentence. 

a young girl moves from behind him, her hands also beside her head. “ellie,” he whisper yells, trying to move back in front of her. your hard glare falls into a guilty gaze, and your shotgun falters downward. “thought i told you to stay behind me–” she cuts him off, probably causing a vein on the side of his temple to burst with stress when she moves in front of him to speak. 

“we’re just looking for somewhere to stay for the night, and we’ll be out of your hair by morning. we promise.” the now named girl swears, looking at the man that dwarfs her in size for extra confirmation. “promise her joel,” she hushedly instructs and he huffs, looking back at you. “promise.” he adds gruffly. 

they look like father and daughter, and you don’t have it in you to turn them away, and despite the possibility that lingers in the back of your mind that this is all a ploy to rob you blind, you settle on the fact that it’s worth the risk to let them in. 

your shotgun rests beside you, no longer using it as a shield from the fear of an impending threat. “okay,” you verbally decide, and ellie lets out a sigh of relief, leaning into joel. he holds onto her with a sense of care, of protection, and your heart pangs at the sight as they climb up onto the patio. 

your lips drop open unintentionally when the man that now has a name and a face to go along with it, stands before you. 

he’s tall, he’s handsome, much older than both you and the girl. “thank you ma’am,” he says, a curt nod from the top of his head, and ellie offers a small smile, joining in his nod. “thank you,” she whispers, and you smile back, moving to the side to let them in. 

immediate comfort envelopes the pair, a quiet breath of it being expelled from them, and you close the door behind you, locking it to make sure that the warmth from inside doesn’t morph into the frigid wind outside. 

“there anyone else with you?” joel questions, unintendedly sending a worried alert in your mind, your body language showing a visible uncomfortableness at the question. 

ellie notices, nudging joel with her elbow. “dude?” she mouths, eyebrows furrowed, silently asking, what the fuck? 

you find yourself trusting her more than you do him, which is just enough of an amount to get you to believe he doesn't mean to sound as sketchy as he comes across. “just me and my dad. he’s asleep upstairs,” you respond, and joel looks back at you, pursing his lips, nodding. 

“i’ll show you where you guys can sleep, and i can even get you a change of clothes.” you say, flickering between the two of them before turning on your heel. they trail behind you quietly while you lead them to their temporary rooms. 

walking up the stairs, and past the stretch of the hallway, you stop at one of the spare rooms, pushing open the door. “there’s this one, and then,” you lean over, pushing open a door to the room just beside it. “this one. up to you guys to decide whoever gets which,” you send them off with a nervous smile, rubbing your palms over your pajama bottoms. 

“thank you,” ellie calls out, lowering her voice but keeping it at an octave audible enough for you to hear. you turn back, smiling at the young girl before going into your bedroom. you grab a pair of pajamas for the pair, trying to be quick so as to not keep them waiting. 

you return to them, finding them both in the same room, sitting at the side of the bed. ellie’s head is leant against joel’s arm, his stare resting over her. the pang hits you again, but you push past it, gently tapping your knuckles over the door. his stare moves from her to you. 

“these are for her, and here’re some of my dad’s old clothes for you. they should fit, but if not you can uh, let me know and i’ll find something else for you.” you set them down beside him, and he nods, a tight lipped inch of a curl over his mouth spreads just slightly, acknowledging your actions.

“these should be fine,” he places a hand over the folded clothes, where your’s was and you find yourself swallowing hard again. his hand is big. 

“alright, well goodnight.” you wish kindly, making your way out the door, nodding a polite bidding. “night,” he responds, traces of southerness apparent in his vowels. “thank you,” he makes sure to say before you leave.

for everything he wants to add, but he doesn’t, which is okay, you can hear it through the crickets and the quiet peacefulness that passes through the room. 

you leave him with an equally hushed response of no problem, the door closing behind you at the curt ending of your reply. 

–

your eyes snap wide open, a low wince falling out at the sting from the rude awakening your body is being subjected to. your name rings as a harsh echo, and you’re quick to your feet, remembering the girl and the man staying in your home, unbeknownst to your dad. “shit,” you groan, hurriedly rushing across the hallway and down the stairs. 

and there was your father, loud, angry, and yelling at…joel? if you remembered his name correctly. “who the fuck are these people and why are they tellin’ me you let them in last night?” he all but shouts, and you feel small, humiliated.

“i did, i’m sorry, they don’t mean any harm, they just needed a place to stay for the night.” you answer meekly, and joel’s fists tighten, every fiber of his being wanting nothing more than to plummet his fists into the side of your dad’s jaw. 

“lord,” he exhales, shutting his eyes and pinching his nose bridge. he walks towards you, a finger pointed at your face when he speaks. 

“if they wanna stay they better make themselves useful, if not, i want them out my goddamn house in 5 minutes.” he snipes irritatedly, eyeing you down with annoyance, making sure you saw the seriousness in his face before he leaves, trudging out the front door. ellie watches with sympathetic eyes as you flinch when he slams the door shut.

it’s quiet for longer than you’d like for it to be, but you’re unsure of what to say after being belittled in front of people who are virtually strangers.

“what a dick,” ellie exhales and joel looks at her, eyes wide, lips tight with chastising ready to be released. “ellie!” he chides and she raises her arms in disgruntled defense. “what? he is!” 

you laugh, and they turn to you surprisedly. “yeah, he is. i’m sorry about that.” you sigh, and joel shakes his head. “no, we’re sorry, we didn’t mean to impose and cause you all that trouble.” he apologizes, genuineness in his softened tone, a pane of his thick drawl behind it, and it soothes away the feeling your dad left you with. 

“it’s alright, it’s just how he is,” you say, attempting to pacify their concerns, but ellie, blows out a quiet breath, eyes slightly wider when she tilts her head side to side. “massive asshole,” she mutters, and you giggle before joel can chide her once more. she smiles at your laughter, and joel just sighs his 100th sigh. 

“you guys can sit, he’ll be gone for most of the day. i can make some breakfast before you have to go?” you offer, motioning towards the dining table, desperate to move past this topic. “mighty gracious of you, but we should get goin,” joel inadvertently rejects your offers, and you frown. 

ellie turns to him, a hopeful stare chipping away at his decision. “dude please, there’s only so much chef boyardee i can take.”

you stifle a laugh at her pleading, tying an apron around your waist. 

“fine.” he sighs, and ellie whispers a successful yes!

–

as time went by, you grew closer to ellie, but almost as a trade off, it seemed as though joel drifted further and further from you, leaving you with no idea as to why. 

you’ve been nothing but kind to him, and the more you tried to do…well, anything, it only pushed him away instead of bringing him in closer. 

granted, you did do things that prompt some kind of annoyed response from joel, like right now, as joel stands in the bathroom, his eyes falling to your discarded panties on the ground. 

he marches out the bathroom, searching for you. “ellie, where’s the girl?” he asks, and she can hear the irritation building in the base of his voice. “uh, outside, she’s picking some fruit, why?” she queries, turning around from her seated position on the couch to face him.

he strides towards the door, eyes glaring straight ahead. “no reason.” he replies sardonically, and ellie rolls her eyes, flipping back on the couch. 

your dad had gone into the next town over to collect more supplies, do some more trading and other various things, but you didn’t care, he’s gone for the time being, and you’re happy, at ease, with more time to look after your garden and spend time leisurely picking at the fruits that hang from the trees above you. 

you’re resting on your knees, overalls rolled up to your thighs, bandana covering your hairline, nimble fingers plucking at the strawberries from the array of bushes. the rays of sunlight blanketing over your skin suddenly vanishes, and you turn, hand over your forehead when you look up at joel. 

“oh hi joel! strawberry?” you chirp, offering a plump strawberry, and he exhales through his nose, eyes raking over you. 

you have a habit of almost never wearing bra’s, and you just about live in overalls and shorts, always accompanied by some tight fitted top. 

god, you make his life so hard. 

little pink ribbons are tied over the top strap buckles of your overalls, and you look so adorable that it almost makes him angry. 

“no, thanks, look, i know it was your bathroom before it was mine, but for the love of god, please stop leavin’ your…undergarments on the floor.” the subtle twang increases just a notch at the way he rattles about your sightly panties. 

your face gets hotter than it was from the sun and you drop your arm, looking away embarrassedly. “oh my god how embarrassing, i’m so sorry, i’m just not used to sharing my bathroom, but that’s not an excuse, i’ll take care of them, i’m sorry joel,” voice pretty and soft, just like you, and he sighs, staring at you for a thick standstill, before going back into the house. “messy girl,” he mutters to himself. 

he finds his way back into the bathroom, eyeing the suspect in question, feeling the strings in his chest pull in tight. he picks up the pair with a curl of his finger, eyeing it like a foreign object. 

he clenches down on his teeth when he stares at it, the pink striped cotton is soft, a little bow adorning the front of it. 

he feels dizzy. 

he honestly considers pocketing them, but immediate disgust kicks in and he drops them, walking out. 

dirty old man. 

–

you are inescapable, easily running joel’s patience down into the dirt beneath his boot. your dad is still gone, but joel and ellie listened when he said to be useful. 

they help you around the house, almost doin ’more than you, joel would grumble, but no matter how much he busied himself with chores, there was hints of you in everything. 

when he’s feeding the chickens or collecting their eggs, he can look not too far out and see the clothesline where you air dry their laundry, not a single thought about letting your bra’s hang from the wire, taunting joel. 

he imagines you in it, the racy little red number, nipples perked behind the flimsy material, shoulder’s beckoning to slide the straps down.

“shit,” he grunts, looking down and seeing the smashed egg in his fist, squeezed to pieces from the intensity of his perverse thoughts.

sometimes he thinks you do this shit on purpose, mocking an old man with something you would never give him, and he feels like banging his head into the wall. 

and in this moment he feels it’d be an especially good time to do so, exhaling sharply from his flared nostrils while he searches around for you, calling out your name, only to be met with no reply. he can’t find ellie either and he’s panicking, he’s panicking bad. 

he shouts your name from the very depths of his stomach, and he pushes every door he sees open until he stops at your bedroom door, pushing inside and growling with anger when he sees you laid upside down in your bed, hands resting on your tummy with thick headphones clamped over your ears. 

he stalks towards you, bending down and ripping your headphones straight off your head. your eyes snap open and you jerk upwards from the bed, clambering off the bed in the most unflattering way possible, rushing to get to your feet. 

“joel what the hell? what’s going on?” you ask, and he scoffs, mad that you have the audacity to be annoyed here. 

“where the fuck is ellie?” he grits out, and you sigh, snatching back your headphones when you answer. “she’s in the stable with my horse, she’s fine joel.” you promise, and he squints his eyes, shaking his head frustratedly. 

“y’can’t just send her off somewhere on her own like that and not even think to tell me, and – dammit, don’t wear those goddamned headphones when i’m callin for you, god you are so irresponsible,” he rants, his voice trailing up a ledge of loud anger, and it’s your turn to get mad. 

“okay joel, you need to stop fucking yelling at me, she’s still on the damn property, she isn’t gone in the next town over, i’d never put her in a situation where she could get hurt and secondly, you don’t get to talk to me like that and tell me what i can and can’t do in my own house.” you’re in his face now, making an effort to stand up for yourself, but joel isn’t tolerating any of it. 

“you listen here little girl and you listen good,” he moves in closer, and you suddenly feel overly aware of his proximity, almost immediately backing down to move away, but no, you wanted to talk back like a big girl, you’re going to face the consequences of one. 

“you best lose that nasty fuckin’ attitude of your’s, i don’t care if this is your house or not, it ain’t an excuse to act like a goddamned thoughtless brat.” he’s breathing heavier now, his face too close to your’s, chest dangerously nearing your own. 

your eyes nictate back and forth in his, desperately suppressing the tears that imperil at your waterline, biting on your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. “you’re such an asshole,” is all you can manage to fire back through a weak excuse of a response. 

he scoffs at you, stepping back before marching out your room. “no shit sweetheart,” he sneers with a lowered baseline of exasperation. 

you fall back on your bed when he’s gone and out of earshot, holding your face in your hands, allowing yourself to let out the tears that almost spilled out in front of joel. 

your fists wipe the tears away, angry that they were even there, each stream down your cheek is a reminder of who caused them. 

refusing to give in to the pain that gnaws at your chest from his spewing anger, you get up, walking out your room, deciding to make your way around back to the stables. 

ellie was saddled over applejack, your only horse, with joel sitting behind her, his arms wrapped around her, keeping her steady, keeping her safe. 

the gnawing bites down harder inside your chest, and you’re unable to fight against it. instead you cradle yourself, comforting the ache while leaning against the bulk of the tree behind you, watching them interact. 

his gaze over her is so soft, so full of care, of love, and he’s laughing, which enables her laughter, and you find yourself smiling as you watch them despite what had just transpired. 

you watch as ellie plops the cowboy hat you had left on applejack’s saddle over his head, and your back gets stiff against the bark of the tree when she does. 

he fixes the hat atop his head, and it annoyingly suits him well. 

he looks like a proper cowboy.

your eyes drift down to the way his hips roll with each trot from applejack, his back leant naturally, looking relaxed, confident, like he knows what he’s doing, and that he knows he does it well. 

his hand runs over the side of applejack lovingly, his strong hand smoothing over her coat, and you feel like crumbling down into the soil of the earth, breathing in a little harder when you imagine those rough, strong hands of his on your skin instead. 

you reach up, pulling a peach from the tree above your head, settling down to sit and just watch the two gallop along with applejack. 

joel’s eyes find you, they always do, and almost like she just knew, ellie decides to lead applejack back over to where you are. joel’s hands tighten over the reins, jaw clenching when they make their way over to you.

“well hi there sweet girl,” you coo, petting applejack when she bends her neck downward, greeting you happily. 

you bite down into your peach, laughing quietly to yourself when the juice spills down your cleavage. joel follows the way the juice rolls down your chest, disappearing behind the pesky coverage of your tank top, and he feels like it's a punishment for his previous yelling. 

you hand the rest of the peach into applejack’s mouth, cooing an, aww there you go sweet girl. 

“damn these look good.” ellie whistles, reaching up to pluck a peach down. 

she drops it, and she groans when it hits the ground. “i got it, don’t worry!” you remedy, turning around to bend down and grab it for her. joel feels like dying when he sees the heart curve of your ass, it’s almost too perfect, and he wonders if this is how his heart finally gives out. 

kinda looks like a peach… he thinks to himself, eyes tracing over the form of your ass for as long as he can before you’re turning back to face them. 

you go up on your tippy toes, quickly grabbing another peach, handing the new one to ellie and tossing the one that fell over to joel. 

“you get that one,” you half tease, half huff, and ellie laughs, waving her clean peach at joel. his eyes settle on you while you talk to ellie, ignoring his presence. 

his teeth sinks down into the peach, his stare trickling over the way you’re squeezed into those stupid fucking tiny shorts, and he thinks about a different type of flesh to bite into. 

– 

nighttime visits your household once more, but it’s anything but peaceful for you and joel. 

ellie knocked out as soon as she collapsed in her bed, but joel’s wide awake. he wants to sleep, wants to forget this day even happened, but he can’t. he replays everything despite his efforts to pretend that the events from today didn’t even occur. 

however, guilt drags its spindly fingers across the muscle of his heart while flashes of his loud anger directed at you forces itself to be acknowledged behind his eyelids. with a disgruntled huff he rips the blankets off his body, climbing out of bed. 

he pushes past the door, making his way to your room to apologize for his harshness. 

the closer he gets to your room, the more he hears a concerning sound gently echoing from behind the door. his brows fly up and he grips at your doorknob, turning it. his knuckles tighten over the knob, his body standing still and stiff in the cracked entrance when he sees you. 

you’re sprawled in your bed, sheets hanging off you, covering not a single thing, leaving joel to wonder if what he’s looking at is real or not, and if it is, should he even be looking at you like this?

he knows the answer to that, it's a big fat resounding no, but joel doesn’t exactly have the purest morals of all time, so he stays in spite of his conscience telling him to close the door. 

he watches your head roll side to side tirelessly, back arching off the bed, bucking your hips into your hand, struggling to pleasure yourself the way you need. your fingers keep sliding off your poor clit, too soaked to keep a good grip on it. 

it sounds sticky, even from where joel stands, it’s all so fucking dirty, your sweet little whimpers going straight to his cock, pushing up against his sweatpants that already hang low off his hips. 

he palms at himself, trying to alleviate the throbbing ache. his eyes follow the curve of your bare chest, your tight tank top under your chin, pretty tits in the air, hard nipples that are begging to be in joel’s mouth. 

you whine to yourself, eyes watering with frustration when your fingers refuse to stay put on your needy clit, trying to instead fill your fluttering hole that clenches around nothing.

joel’s fingernails dig into the doorframe, physically restraining himself from going in there and shoving himself so far into you that it hits your cervix, stretching you nice and open for him. 

he thinks about how he’d make you take it, how you’d claw down his back while he fucks you like you deserve. 

he feels disgusting, like a goddamn pervert, but he again wins the battle against any morals he has left and stays to watch. you sound so wet its fucking ridiculous, he just wants to lap it all up on his tongue and drink you in. 

but what he really wants, is to make you beg, to make you cry. 

you further test his will, when his name floats from your trembling lips, his jaw going slack at the unreal moan. his hand falls to his straining cock, squeezing it, silently pleading with you to be good and say it one more time for him, to confirm he heard you right. 

and you do, you whimper his name, an airy little, joel, while grinding down on your finger, trying to angle your hips to hit a spot you hardly ever have success in satiating. 

good girl, he grits without a sound, his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock. 

you think back to him yelling at you, ignoring the pain of the memory, and instead rewriting how the fight ended. your brain conjures up an alternate ending, where he bends you over the foot of your bed, smacking his hand over the fat of your ass before he rams himself inside you. 

you think about his back curling over yours, his cock too deep inside you, muttering for you to fuckin’ take it. 

he’d have his face in the crook of your neck, his beard would tickle your skin while the dirtiest words you can think of would be listed off in your ear. 

his beard, your hips rise in the air desperately, your mind now imagining his stubble between your thighs, how his mustache would brush over your clit until it’s raw. “please, want it joel, want it so bad,” you moan to yourself in a pleading fluttery little voice, and joel almost steps forward at your begging.

i’ll give it you, he promises to himself, wishing he could tell you instead.

he can’t fucking take it, he drinks in the bare sight of you once more, memorizing each curve, the way your voice trembles, the way your legs shake, the plump of your thighs and chest, and fuck, he thinks he’ll pass out before he can even make it back to his room. 

he carefully closes the door, striding hurriedly back to his bed. he shuts his door, making an immediate dash to his awaiting mattress. 

he pulls the blanket over his hips, tugging down his sweatpants and letting his cock spring up. he uses his precum as lube, too impatient to spit in his hand. he fists at his fat cock, pushing past the roughness from his palm, pretending that it’s your soft hand wrapped around him. 

he thinks back to what he just saw, imagining that he did step inside, closing the door behind him before making his way to you. 

you’d probably get scared at the sudden sight of him in front of you, but he imagines that you’d be too desperate to care about his actions. 

you’d grab his wrist, bringing his hand to your poor little cunt. “touch me, please joel?” you’d plead with those watery eyes of yours, and he would, he’d touch you until you couldn’t take it. 

but he’d make you take it, he’d stretch you out on his fingers before he’d get his cock in you. he can only fantasize about how good your tight little cunt would feel all around him, how snug you’d be, gripping him in, but no matter how hard he tries to pretend, he knows his imagination does your pussy no justice to how good it’d actually be. 

he starts fucking his hand, head falling back into his pillow, his bicep’s flexing with straint while he goes to squeeze his cockhead, traveling back down to his shaft, struggling to please every inch of himself. 

he wonders if you’re a virgin, wonders if anyones gotten to see you like how he did, or did they get to experience it themselves?  

he gets jealous at the thought, but he erases it, instead thinking of the possibility of no one ever getting to touch you but him. 

yeah, he likes that, he likes thinking about being the first and last cock you’ll ever have deep inside you. shit, he growls, thumbing over his leaking tip, he’s close. 

he starts panting, chest falling more rapidly with heavy breaths, his hand working over himself faster now, the slick from his pumping fist around his cock is embarrassingly loud, but he uses it and pretends it’s the sound of him in your pussy, and that does it for him. 

he cums in his fist, slowly thrusting into the tunnel of his hand before he releases himself, and he groans, letting his body sink deeper into his bed. 

fuckin’ disgustin’ he mutters to himself. 

–

he can barely look at you the next morning, he feels hot all over when you so much as walk past him, your scent always trailing behind you and filling his senses. 

you smell like the sweetest form of vanilla and it makes him unstable, feeling like he’s gotta hold onto something to remain upright when you’re near him. 

you make your own soap, and, of course you make your own fuckin’ soap, he thinks to himself, growing weaker by the second when you talk about how you used vanilla beans in your recipe for soap. 

you offer to make some for him, but he declines as politely as he can, finding any excuse to establish some space. he can’t be near you, not now, and not later, he needs time to remind himself what self control is. 

he decides to chop some firewood, the nights are getting colder and colder anyways, and he thinks this’ll be a good distraction for him. 

he pours all his frustration into it, swinging the axe from behind his shoulder and down into the blocks of wood, chopping them up into logs.

sweat lines his forehead, his biceps bulging from the tight constraints of his rolled up flannel, and you watch from the window, staring at him as he leans back, taking in a few deep breaths while he wipes his forehead before continuing. 

you swish your thighs together, walking away when you realize if you don’t move now, you’ll stay the rest of the day just watching him. 

-

after a few hours outside, joel is beat, he thinks he deserves a break. he trudges back inside, sighing when he’s greeted with the fresh air conditioned breeze. 

your legs hang off the arm of the couch, head resting on a cushion and buried in a magazine. 

he eyes your legs while he walks into the bathroom, almost unable to tear away from them. but when he walks through the door, he closes his eyes immediately once they land on the ground, as if the sight before him physically hurts. 

he exhales with aggravation when he sees your white cotton panties on the floor, and your cream lacy bra hanging off the towel rack, mocking him. 

he’s had enough. 

he stomps out the bathroom, and you brace yourself for the latest lecture when you hear the nearing ruckus of his boots connecting to the wood floors. 

he yells your name, his voice curling around the curve of an upward rage. “what joel,” you yell back mockingly, he stands above you, looking furiously down at you.

“what did i tell you about your goddamn panties and bra in the fuckin’ bathroom,” he shouts, jabbing his thumb back towards the bathroom. you huff, swinging your legs from the arm of the couch, rising to your feet. “i’m sorry!” you throw your arms up annoyedly. 

“i’ll get ‘em, i understand it’s annoying but joel you don’t need to yell over every. fuckin’. thing, you can talk to me like a normal person,” you contradict your own words, pointing a finger at him while you shout back. 

he grabs your finger, pulling your wrist down and away from his face, beaming anger glinting in his eyes. 

“thought i told you to get rid of that nasty fuckin’ attitude little girl,” he spits, words hanging in the air like a venomous gas, and you all but growl with irritation. 

“i’m not a little girl and you’re not my dad, y’don’t get to talk to me like that you fucking dick,” you bark back, feeling a sudden fear when you see the way he’s looking at you. 

his top lip curls with disdain, and he nods slightly to himself, like he’s just mentally made his decision. 

he grabs you by your upper arm, dragging you along with him back around to the couch. “let me go,” you try pulling your arm from him, but it does nothing, his grip is stronger than your efforts. 

he sits down, pulling you into his lap, grabbing you roughly and repositioning you so your tummy rests over his thighs. “what are you doin–” he holds your jaw, forcing you to crane your neck to face him.

“i’m gettin’ real sick of your fuckin’ back talk, you say you’re not a little girl yet all you do is act like one, a real rude one at that,” he grits in your face, and you feel small, wishing the couch would just swallow you whole. 

“i ain’t your dad but you need some serious fuckin’ discipline,” he lets go of your jaw, letting you fall back into the cushion. he unhooks your overalls, pulling them down and under your ass. 

he exhales lowly when he sees the hypnotic curve of your ass, clad in baby blue polka dotted underwear, it’s too cute that it makes him sick. 

he doesn’t even think when his hand runs over your ass, smoothing over your skin, squeezing the thick flesh in his large palms. you whimper under your breath, squirming in his hold. “stay still,” he orders, his tone cold, riding on a mean line of pointed annoyance. 

“you’re gonna say you’re sorry with every one of ‘em, you hear me girl?” he asks, resting his hand on your ass testingly. 

you nod quietly, but it isn’t good enough, he’s grabbing your face again, forcing eye contact. “when i ask you a question you answer.” he sneers, teeth baring for a second and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling your clit ache embarrassingly from the harsh treatment. 

“i hear you.” you reply meekly, and it suffices, because he’s letting go of your jaw, refocusing on the new task he has at hand, or rather, in his lap. 

he rests his palm over one cheek, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, the warmth from his hand tingling your skin. 

your clit is right up against his knee, and you want more than anything to rut on it, roll your hips to gain any kind of friction, but you figure you’re in enough trouble as it is so it’s best to hold back these desires. 

he raises his hand, slamming it back down and eliciting a loud smack that resonates around the room. you cry out, gripping onto the cushion under you. “i’m sorry,” you whimper out, skin prickling with heat. 

he does it again, his heavy hand rising up only to crash back down against the fat of your ass. “i’m sorry,” your voice trembles, your eyes already beginning to water, despite the fact that you’re just barely getting started. 

he slaps over your ass, hard. his rough calloused palm emitting an even stronger sting over your soft skin, and you cry out, kicking your legs against the armrest of the couch, feeling the anger increasing with each rough impact from his palm.

“i’m so-orry,” you hiccup, wiping away the tears streaming down your cheeks. he continues with the abuse on your ass, feeling a twinge of guilt at the way you cry but manage to say your apologies with each relentless hit to your bottom one after the other. 

“you gonna listen to me when i tell you to do somethin’?” he raises his voice, along with his hand, letting it fall down onto your pounding flesh when you don’t answer fast enough. “yes, yes gonna listen,” you wail, little feet kicking with pain. 

“gonna lose that fuckin’ attitude of your’s?” he grunts, smacking your ass hard over where he just hit, watching you howl in anguish, back trying to arch away from the pain. 

“yes,” you sob, nodding with earnest. 

you’ve lost count of how many it’s been, the only thing that remains consistent is the hot pain that comes in waves over your bruising skin, the welts in the shape of his hand throbbing and aching in never ending flashes. 

he rubs over your skin, soothing the soreness away, before he drops his hand against it once more, erasing the little comfort he was giving you. 

you’re apologizing through loud wailing, not a care in the world for how embarrassing it is to be sobbing in joel’s lap, because it fucking hurts. 

he swats over your ass, fast and rough, letting the sting of it settle into a prickling pain that spreads down to the backs of your thighs.

after a few more hard hits to your ass, he figures you’ve had enough, your crying making him feel a pang of remorse for not taking it easier on you. he runs his hand over your scorched bottom, mending the abused flesh in an attempt to calm you down. 

you’re crying, lashes getting slick from your tears, lips growing plump with the loud hiccups of pain. he massages over your ass, gently this time, but your skin feels too raw to enjoy it. 

his self restraint is weakening, he can’t stop himself when he tilts his head back, leaning into the couch to look down at your inner thighs. he sees a wet patch spreading over your panties, and he scoffs, bringing two fingers to it. 

you gasp, trying to wriggle away from it, but he keeps you still. “interestin’” he half snickers, and you just about die of humiliation. 

“reckon you want me to do somethin’ about this?” he murmurs, voice gruffly cascading in the teeming air. he circles over the wet patch, giving you a chance to turn him down, shut down his advances, but you don’t want to. 

you bend a little, arching into his touch. “please?’ you whimper, all embarrassment gone from the pain, and he inhales a hefty breath, swallowing thickly. 

he slides your panties to the side, drawing his fingers up and down your slick. you shiver, tightening your legs around him. 

“can’t believe you’re soaked over that,” he taunts meanly, judgingly, and you whimper, your face getting hot from the base of your throat when he pushes in his middle finger. 

“you’re s’mean,” you sniffle and he scoffs at your complaints, pushing his finger in deeper to watch you gasp and shake. 

“i showed you what mean is,” he chuckles lowly, leaning down to make sure you hear him. he shifts his hips around, pressing something to your hip, making sure you feel it. 

“and this ain’t mean,” he curls his finger right up into that little spot you struggled to reach last night. he starts curling his finger, right there, and suddenly you can’t breathe, you can’t even believe this is happening, but whether it’s real or not you don’t want it to stop. 

“more,” you whine, pushing back on his hand with a devout need. his free hand grips at the bruising flesh of your ass, the plumpness of it filling the gaps between his fingers, and you wince, little hands trying to grip at the cushions for comfort. 

“you’re a greedy little girl with no fuckin’ manners. do i need to do this all over again just to remind you to say please?” he raises his hand back up over your ass, and you’re shaking your head, turning back at him pleadingly. “n-no, no, i’m so sorry,” you whimper, the backs of your hands covering your stinging bottom feebly. 

he laughs at your attempts, but decides he’ll let it slide. he moves your hands away, and pushes his finger back inside, filling you up to the knuckle. you moan deeply, relief at the pleasure entering you once more. the way he fucks you with his finger is all you need to even begin trying to ignore the resounding pain he instilled into your ass. 

little pants leave past your lips, your cheek squished against the couch while you try to fuck yourself onto his fingers. “feel’s s’good,” you drool. 

he can’t stop the downward spiral he’s letting himself fall into with you, he’s in too deep, and he’s just accepted that he wants to go deeper. 

you’re rutting your clit against his knee just how you’ve been wanting to this whole time, and he watches you as a desperate little wet thing in his lap trying to get off with what he’s giving you. 

"you know i saw you last night," he whispers in your ear, beard tickling your neck when he leans in real close, his finger picking up speed when he continues. 

your face burns hot, and you can't bear to look at him. "oh god," you moan, half from pleasure, half from pure humiliation. 

"heard you sayin' my name too, there somethin' you wanna tell me?" he pushes you a little further, watching and waiting to see how you reply. 

you're so disoriented, you can't think straight past the embarrassment and the feeling of joel refusing to let up with his finger inside you. he rubs over that perfect spot right there, and it feels so good that it almost kills the shame that burrows itself under your skin. 

"n-no? no, i dunno," you whine dumbly, and he rolls his eyes, flicking his wrist harder now, gripping the hand of yours that tries to hold onto him. "you don't know?" he parrots back mockingly. 

"you just so happened to be tryin' to finger yourself while moanin' my name? that just a coincidence?" his words jab at your cheeks with taunts and you whimper, hiding your face away from him, still shamelessly grinding down onto him when he works another finger in you, stretching you out. 

"i'm sorry," is all you can whimper, you feel stupid with his fingers in you, bullying your poor cunt until it makes that addictive pap pap pap sound. "apologizin' for the wrong thing, should've been sayin' that instead of talkin' back to me," he grunts, letting go of your wrist to smack the side of your ass. 

you cry out, shaking in his lap from the slap, the pain echoing over the sore flesh. "i'm sorry," you draw out longly, chest racking with tears mixed with pain and ecstasy. 

he pulls his fingers from out your tight hole, and you whine, looking back at him with those pretty, innocently guilty eyes of yours.  

"quit your whinin'," he mutters, pulling you upright into his lap. he looks back into your gaze, and it only reminds him of how you're breaking him down into a weak, weak man.  

his thumb runs across your bottom lip, dipping into it. "open," he tells you with a softer, hushed sternness. you obey, parting your lips for him. 

he spits in your mouth, and you take it like a kiss, carrying the action like a caress. it mixes with your own saliva, ingraining himself in your dna. 

he stares at you expectantly, hands lowering down to your ass, squeezing it indignantly, like a warning. 

"thank you," you breathe out, feeling drunk on him. he seems pleased, his tight clasp over your ass gets gentler, but it's still firm, still there. 

"got a real issue of rememberin' your manners there girl," he tsks, his thumb trailing down your chin, his other hand patting your bottom. "but i'll fix that, fix that right up." he promises, but it feels more like a threat, one that he intends on staying true to. 

he lays you flat on your back onto the couch, and you allow him to, letting him do whatever he pleases with you, and he thinks he likes you like this, so sweet and so pliant. 

he pulls your legs towards him, he feels hungry, feels impatient, he wants all of you and he wants it all now. 

joel hasn't wanted anything in years, because if you don't want anything, you won't be disappointed when you don't get it. 

but now he's got you in front of him and he can't take it. he wants you. he's greedy, and he's dirty, but he doesn't care, you've done irreversible damage that he expects will be somehow repaired if he can just get a fix of you, just enough to gratify his bodily needs. 

your legs find their way around his hips as if you've done this before, as if his body has been with your's prior to this, connecting like they're supposed to. he slots himself between your thighs, feeling almost overwhelmed to finally have you like this for him. 

you want to kiss him, want to hold him, want him him him, and although you've already got him, you still feel like there's more of him to be had. 

he unbuckles his belt, the sound urging your legs to tighten around his waist. his eyes drag over you, slowly taking in the vision that's you, as he unbuttons his jeans. he pulls himself out, your gaze dropping down to him, feeling your heart sink immediately. 

you never assumed he was small, not that you thought about what was under those jeans, (lies) but shit, this was just obscene. near unnecessary, because how in the hell does he function carrying that…thing around? 

he sees your gawking, and an annoying pride fills him to the brim at your visible awe. "is that gonna fit?" you finally ask, and he laughs, pumping himself when he inches closer. "we're about to see aren't we?" he answers, moving your panties to the side. 

you get stiff with nerves, holding onto his strong bicep. "joel i-i dunno if it'll fit," you admit, you sound scared, because you are, and he almost feels bad. almost. 

"if you don't want this tell me now," he places your panties back, but you're shaking your head, pulling him back in. "no i do, i do, promise," you sound so desperate, so needy, and he's trying so hard to not just fuck you right now. 

"just, scared…i never uh..you know." you motion between you two and he swears he nearly punched the air with obnoxious success. "this your first time?" he confirms, and you nod, feeling shy under his stare. 

"not like i've been trying to save myself or anything, there's just no one around over here," you explain, not that you needed to, if anything joel is ecstatic with a primal possession that he gets to be your first. 

"so you're jumpin' at the first man who gives you some attention? 'specially an old man like me?" he circles the tip of his cock around your clit, and your lips part, hips instinctively lowering down on him. "n-no, i," you don't have any words for him, his actions rendering you silent.

he starts slowly inching in, and your head falls deeper into the cushion behind you, nails crescenting into his forearms. he goes in with no resistance, you're so fucking soaked around him, gripping him in like a warm welcome. 

"shit," he shudders, fully sheathing himself inside you. his hand lands beside your head, panting above you, and he looks so beautiful like this. he's so handsome, his eyebrows are in that furrow that they're always in, but this time it's for a different reason. 

you look down at where you're connected, and you feel as though you're now one, he's a part of you as you are of him, and you never want him to leave. 

you start rolling your hips experimentally, no matter where or how you move, you feel him deep inside, the fat head of his cock hitting there, over and over, and it feels so good, you don't think twice about continuing your little ministrations. 

he forcibly pauses your actions, halting your hips down with a rough grip from his hands. he's glaring down at you, uh oh.  

"greedy little girl," he grunts, starting to piston his hips inside you. you cry out, leaning forward to find solace in his broad chest, but he pushes you back down, pinning you still. he pauses for a moment, grabbing his belt. "wrists." he orders, and you listen without wasting a second. 

he ties your wrists, pushing them above your head before he continues. he's groaning atop of you, fucking you with a purpose, and you take him, entire body bopping upwards with every harsh thrust being fucked into you. 

you want to touch him so bad, it feels like torture, you want to put your hands under his flannel, explore the skin that lies underneath, but he's denied you of that privilege. "brat's got such a tight fuckin' pussy," he grunts, impaling you hard onto his cock, stretching you out so good you can't stop yourself from trying to meet his thrusts. 

the moans that pour from you are endless, all you do is whimper his name, crying for him and it inflates his ego, but he can't have you being this loud. a hand clamps over your mouth, and you moan behind it, any touch from him is welcomed wholeheartedly. 

"quiet down girl," he grits, leaning in close while his thrusts grow harsher. "startin' to think you left your panties for me to find, bet you wanted me to get mad, jus' wanted some attention huh?" he moves his hand away from your mouth, instead using it to grip your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker. "speak," he orders. 

"n-no, no i just fo-forgot, promise," you swear, words feeling difficult to pronounce and even think of when he's got you stretched out on his cock like this, fucking you dumb. 

he doesn't believe you, his hands working around your throat soon after you squeak your response. "no?" he teases, his hands growing tighter around the pane of your neck. 

your wrists wiggle around the confinements of the belt, wishing you could hold the hands that have you cradled like a glove. 

"f'you just wanted my attention, or just wanted to get fucked," he rests on his haunches, pulling you with him, letting you slip down further onto his cock, the corners of his lips curling when you cry out. "then just fuckin' ask, don't need to be pullin' stunts like that," 

his hands around your throat feel loving, they feel safe, and perfectly fitted around you, like his hands were made for this. the lack of air feels right, feels like this is what you needed, and you want more. 

tears well at your pretty eyes, rolling down your cheeks while you grip at the buckle on his belt, his cock moving so deep inside that you feel him in the base of your tummy. 

he releases your throat, and you gasp for the air you didn't even realize was depleting. he pulls the belt loose, and you immediately go to his arms, running over them. squeezing at the muscles, feeling impressed with how they flex under your touch. 

your hands travel up to his face, his beard tickling your palms. "feels sososo good joel, never felt like this," you slur, eyes falling shut at the pleasure. "yeah? this all it took for you to fuckin' behave?" he groans, your hands running across his wide back, trying to feel him, feel the muscles that you've only ever gotten to steal glances at. 

he's letting you fall backward again, hovering close to your level, his cock filling you to the hilt, and then some, and you want to tell him how full you feel, how good it feels to have so much of him in you, but the words are lost on you, there are no thoughts left to be had, just pure physical manifestations of what he's doing to you. 

"kiss me, please?" you beg, and he doesn't argue, doesn't mock you or tease, but connects your lips, kissing you hard. you moan into his mouth, calf resting on his lower back while he pushes in and out of you. his beard brushes around your chin, your nails gently scratching at the back of his head, eliciting his turn to moan in your mouth. 

he kisses you like he fucks you, rough. it's rushed, messy, wet, but there's power in the way he does both, making you feel hazy, dizzy, and overfilled with rapture all at once. 

every push, and every shove into the couch is registered as soft, gentle caresses, loving affection, so graciously given to you by the rough hands belonging to joel and you take it all in stride, left wanting more, craving more roughness that just feels like love instead. 

his face falls to the warmth of your neck, nipping, biting down onto your shoulder when he buries himself further than you even knew possible, inside of you. your mouth parts, a string of whiny moans leaving past them when he grinds into you, bucking your hips to meet his. 

"finally bein' so obedient, should've just gave in an' did this sooner," he grunts into your skin, hands holding you down by your hips. his fingers find your clit, rubbing over the sensitive nerves just like how you did last night, and you choke on a moan, tangling your fingers in his salt and peppered hair. 

"so good, feels so good, thank you daddy," you cry like a prayer into his neck, and he sends an especially hard thrust into your cunt, knocking the air out of you. you feel frozen in horror when you realize what's just come out your mouth.

"that's real nasty y'know that right?" the sick curl in the corner of his mouth contradicts the shame he throws at you, and the way his cock twitches inside you acts as further proof that there's no truth in his mocking. 

you cover your face in his shoulder, but no, he wants you to look at him when he fucks you, he wants to see the way those pretty lips of yours mold around the word that rightfully belongs to him. 

"don't get shy now," he huffs, holding your jaw, head falling back when he feels you clench down around him. his hands fall back to where they belong, wrapped snug around your throat.

he watches the way your eyes roll back, bottom lip being sucked in while you try fucking yourself onto him. "dirty fuckin' girl," he grits, squeezing you while your fingers curl over his, intertwining with him. "s'all right, i can be your daddy," he grunts, pushing in and feeling you squeeze him when he lays his promises to you. 

you force your eyes open, gazing at him hazily while he pounds into you. he brings his hips down to yours relentlessly, no mercy in the way he fucks you. he's growing messy, falling out of tune when he slows down, shoving himself all the way in you, letting the sensation of the way you wrap around him be appreciated like it's supposed to be. 

"my fuckin' cunt, you hear me? repeat." he releases your throat, and you gasp, sputtering while you nod. "yes, s'all yours," you hiccup, watery eyes making out a blurry joel in front of you. he presses his hand to your lower stomach, groaning to himself when he can feel his own cock piston in and out of you. 

he lessens the speed in his thrusts, slowing to watch his cock fill you up. you squirm at the extra pressure, pawing at his wrists. "so much, it's so much daddy," you whine, and he grunts, feeling pride at the way he's got you so fucked out. "take it," is all he says, sounding gruff and strained. 

"can i cum please? promise m'gonna be so good for you daddy, gonna listen an' everything," you cry, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips, pulling him in deeper. he grits his teeth, chest getting tight at your pleads. 

"really think you deserve it?" he grunts and you nod, gripping onto his shoulders. "yes, please, i promise, promise m'gonna be good, please please," he concedes to your begging, bringing his fingers to your clit. 

you gasp, panting in all the air that'll fit in your lungs when it all hits you. your skin is tinged with heat, legs trembling on either side of joel's waist when you feel the tides start to ripple closer to you until it crashes, pulling you into the ocean and you're drowning. drowning in joel. 

"thank you daddy, thank you s'much, so good," you muffedly sob, face in the crook of his shoulder while he fucks you through your orgasm, fingers running over your clit, winding you up just to watch you fall apart. 

"fuck, squeezing me so hard," he laughs breathlessly, slipping into a heavy moan at the way you're clamping down on him. "so good baby, take what you need, that's my girl," he groans, holding your waist down, fucking you with a rushed need. the backs of your thighs rest over him, and you feel weak, but fulfilled, watching adoringly as he uses your body to cum. bursts of pleasure still erupting inside you at the way he fucks you. 

my girl

you whimper at the fleeting affections, unknowingly clenching harder around him.

"shit, shit, gonna fuckin' cum, gonna fill this pussy up, greedy little cunt can't get enough," he groans, head falling forward while his orgasm envelopes him, the slick from your mixed arousal loud while he gasps, grunting with a few harsh thrusts. he pushes into you with finality, cumming deep inside you. 

he slowly pulls out, and it stings, you're wincing, feeling bare and cold. 

he pulls your panties back over you, eyeing the way his cum pools against the material, and he feels good, feels like he's permanently marked you as his. he tucks himself back into his jeans, catching his breath before he turns his attention back to you. 

he dresses your limp body back into your overalls, his hands now ginger and gentle over your skin, touching you like you've suddenly become glass. he sits at the end of the couch, pulling you into his lap. 

he's careful when he sits you down, aware that your ass still probably hurts. he lets you curl into his side, the last bit of trembling slowly leaving your body from what just happened. his palm runs up and down your back, feeling content at the way you rest on his chest. "feel okay?" he asks quietly, and you hum a sleepy yes. 

your hand rests on his chest, toying with the buttons. "you've always been a sweet girl," he says, feeling like he needs to clarify that, and you smile against his chest, feeling relief and giddiness at his admittance. "a messy one but, sweet nonetheless," he pats your back and you shoot him a joking glare. 

he holds you closer by tucking his hand under your thighs, cradling you into him. he kisses your temple, the first gentle action of the day. he tells himself he'll indulge in that more when he sees the smile that spreads across your cheeks. 

[silkjade]

𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 ღ 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 ⋆୨୧˚— alhaitham x jade ﾉ an academic rivals to friends to lovers slowburn

“the heart is an arrow — it demands aim to land true.”

༯ the grand scribe & the head archivist ﾉ a kiss of frost upon the earth ﾉ mutual admiration and understanding ﾉ the art of witticism ﾉ serenity in the silence ﾉ alcohol laced discussions ﾉ how moonlight fractures into the dawn ﾉ tangled limbs and tangled sheets ﾉ peaceful serendipity ﾉ a steady, persevering love — a love that blooms with time

「 ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ 」 natascha main theme - peter thomas sound orchester ﾉ fallingforyou - the 1975 ﾉ lovesick - laufey ﾉ come out and play - billie eilish ﾉ real life - the marias ﾉ imperfect for you - ariana grande ﾉ you are in love - taylor swift ﾉ west coast - lana del rey ﾉ understand - keshi ﾉ new home - austin farwell

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 We often crossed paths during our time as students, and while we didn’t get along at first, I suppose at the heart of every harmonious relationship is mutual understanding. It’s easy to dismiss him as just another genius with a questionable attitude — which isn’t wrong per se — but he has a kind heart albeit his unconventional ways of showing it, and his company isn’t too terrible. Being with him feels. . . peaceful. Hm? What sort of relationship? One I’m quite fond of, of course.

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐉𝐚𝐝𝐞 I’ve known her long enough not to be fooled by the elegant appearance, though personally, I find an incisive mind and clever tongue quite the charming engagement. Her determination to succeed is admirable, so I have no qualms about her capabilities at all — it’s no wonder few stones are as revered as jade. Oh? They call it "the concentrated essence of love"? I can't help but agree. Make do with that as you will, but I'm sure you can draw your conclusions from here.

❝ 𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝑒, 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓊𝒶𝑔𝑒. ❞

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

the unbearable lightness of a porcelain heart

midnight vices n’sfw

the heart on exhibition :: museum coworkers / modern au

𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬

otp chart

summer moodboard

museum au moodboard :: 2

sabzeruz festival outfits

𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐲

woven in the roses

as king deshret and the goddess of flowers

a peaceful life

[unluckedtj]

i’ve had an au in mind for a while (quite literally came to me in a dream????), something like a swap au but not quite as your usual tgaa swap au. an au where barok van zieks and herlock sholmes are sent from britain to japan, at the age of 23 and 24 respectively

“ticket swap” au i like to call it

of course, this isn’t just ‘back in time’, there are many things jumbled around such as occupations and ages. and none of this is solid! i’m putting down the ideas i’ve had, and this can very well change overtime.

and of course, a lot of this is going to be me info dumping about this very self indulgent vanlock partners(?) focused au, side of mostly susarei but also asoryuu

ahem! tgaa:tsau cast!

below the line, that is

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herlock sholmes, (25) who wanted to research in forensic science, follows yujin to his nation to do just that (and preferably solve crime, too)

barok van zieks, (24) who applies to go to japan in hopes of learning more about the laws of other nations (and perhaps, something else) aiming to be a prosecutor like his brother

ryunosuke naruhodo, (33) a writer who had recently gotten into researching true crime. it scares him but he can’t help but think there is something about these crimes that are calling him. isn’t really thinking too much about looking into law (but something might change that…) close friends with kazuma asogi

rei membami, (26) yujin mikotoba’s long time forensics assistant that is working towards becoming a doctor herself. decided to help ryunosuke in his research hobby. (she seems to be interested in this man she sees in the hallways of imperial yumei university while on her way to dr mikotoba’s laboratory) close friends with susato mikotoba

kazuma asogi, (34) a well known prosecutor in japan, it is unknown what changed his decision from becoming a defense lawyer. despite being famous among people in law, there is not much known about him. close friends with ryunosuke naruhodo

susato mikotoba, (26) kazuma asogi’s famed judicial assistant (and as sholmes soon learns, sister). she seems to be taking law classes in yumei university under an alias. a bit of a sholmes fan. close friends with rei membami

yujin mikotoba, (52) sholmes’ friend and partner in (solving) crime of course, but also a mentor, and now that sholmes recently learned, a foster father to kazuma asogi and father of susato mikotoba

genshin asogi, (??) family friend of the van zieks, and relative of the renowned prosecutor asogi. he has gone missing

klint van zieks, (35) well known prosecutor in britain. happily married and has one daughter he loves so dearly, to the point of being a little bit of a helicopter parent in the recent years, but barok can’t quite figure out why. he has kept his daughter a secret from everyone apart from family

iris (wilson?) van zieks, (8) how in the world did she end up in japan?! (i’ll give you the answer; through sholmes’s suitcase, which she mistook for barok’s. there were shenanigans), her parents are in a panic looking for her (barok will get to them asap)

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i just really wanted something where it’s similar to tgaa 1-1 but younger vanlock without their life altering events (klints death for van zieks and iris adoption for sholmes)

and also just the thought of it and how it would play out; van zieks isn’t even a defense lawyer but was preparing to defend the guy he barely knew on the steamship (who had his niece in his suitcase) that he firmly believes did not commit this murder, but sholmes found out what was at stake (aka van zieks being sent back home for a couple more years if he fails this) and was like “nuh uh i got this im herlock sholmes after all” (he does not got this) (i lied he clutched like he always does)

this is superrrrr self indulgent so i don’t expect this to be perfectly aligned with canon, but i kinda just wanna see if anyone could give me more ideas because i currently cannnnnot talk to my friends about this due to massive spoilers 😔

maybe next time i’ll go more in depth on the group dynamics (specifically ryunosuke, rei, herlock, iris, and barok)