#where sarah could've lived

[tlou-obsessed]

Joel getting to Jackson and going from job to job, exhausting himself deeply. Extra time means more time to think, and the more he thinks the more his deep buried grief resurfaces, because this life is too much like what it had been before. Tommy thinks it's just Joel being Joel, he was like this before the outbreak too, but it's Maria who notices that Joels running from something, and casually tries inviting him over to help with the baby, she casually tries to talk about her own process with grief, and it gets to Joel who shakes his head, and she tries to get to him. Telling him that he has to feel it, he has to let it out... which results in Joel silently shaking with the baby in his arms.

[foxcort]

sometimes i think about how the acotar books could've been a great way to show that "love doesn't heal trauma" rather than whatever points sjm was trying to make about abusive relationships and sa. instead of tamlin being abusive, she could've written that feylin's individual traumas kept them from reaching out to each other. or that feyre felt suffocated by the perfect, idyllic and alive spring court when she felt the opposite on the inside. or that tamlin felt overwhelmed by the sudden influx of responsibilities as he's trying to rid himself of the nightmares from utm. they try to make it work. they try to replicate some of the dates and dances from book #1 but there's an almost tangible shadow over their relationship now. and maybe one day feyre sees a memorial for andras or a likeness to one of the high fae living in the spring court to one of the high fae she killed utm, and has a panic attack. and this serves as the catalyst that severs feylin's relationship and reveals that yes, their love broke a curse, their love saved prythian but it couldn't (and shouldn't) heal them.

[hurtspideyparker]

If Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together Part 2

Read Part 1 here

Tony: Why is Underoos mopping the ceiling?

Sam: Told him since he's sticky that's his chore

Bucky: It's only fair he helps out around the house

Tony: Hm. Makes sense

-

Vision cooked dinner:

Peter: *pushing around food to make it look eaten*

Natasha: *surreptitiously spitting into napkin*

Steve: *taking small bites with tons of water*

Bucky: *just stares at full plate*

Tony: Well this is disgusting, I'm ordering pizza

-

Sam: C'mon man stop moping around, you gotta get yourself a girl

Bucky: Ok.

Sam: Ok? Okayyyyy! I know-

Bucky: Give me your phone

Sam: Oh you got a number in mind already hotshot? *hands phone over*

Bucky: *ring* Hi Sarah ;)

Sam: BOY-

-

Peter: Ned thought you would seperate your colours from your lights but he also thought you'd be homophobic so I don't pay him much mind cuz clearly I'm more of a superhero expert than him but he does have a 2% better average than me in history so like maybe you do hand wash your clothes and that's why I asked what underwear you wear because-

Steve: *listening intently with apprehension and alarm*

Natasha: I can't believe you found the one person on Earth who talks more nonsense than you

Tony: I know right, it's incredibly unnerving. I'm planning on adopting him

-

Peter: Mr. Stark I have to tell you something. I think Vision is a... *whispers* pervert

Tony: Um, why?

Peter: He keeps floating through my room without knocking! He saw me changing, he saw my nipples !

Tony: Well if anyone's a predator here it would be you. I mean showing your nipples to a 2 year old? Deplorable.

Peter:

Peter: Oh god, I'm the pervert...

-

Bucky: Y'know animosity isn't good between teammates. I think we should spend more time together

Sam: Am I being punked right now? Where's the camera

Bucky: I'm serious. I think it would be healthy for us to bond

Sam: Okay fine I'll bite... what did you have in mind

Bucky: Wanna go for a run?

Sam: *slams door in Bucky's face*

-

*staring at Bucky's sparkly clean metal arm*

Bucky: Dishwasher?

Peter: Dishwasher :)

(later that day)

Bucky: I've decided to let the child live

Peter: YoU wHaT?!

-

Thwip

Tony: Who took my coffee cup, It was right here

Thwip

Bruce: Um, has someone seen my book? I just had it

Thwip

Steve: I could've sworn I was holding a pen a moment ago

*giggling from the ceiling*

Tony: Young man I will take those webshooters away if you use them for shenanigans and rascality

Peter, muffled: Mr. Hawkeye told me to!

Clint: Oh so you're just gonna rat me out like that?

Peter: Sor- OOF

*falls out of ceiling vent*

-

Sam: You're in my spot

Bucky: There are no spots, it's a common area

Sam: Well that's my spot

Bucky: Did you buy the chair??

Sam: No, but everyone knows that's where I sit. Right Steve?

Steve: Oops I forgot something in my car, be right back *leaves*

Sam: Still my spot

Bucky: Still not

Sam: *sits on him*

Bucky: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL THE COUCHES ARE FREE-

Sam: IT'S MY SPOT YOU CAN'T TAKE A MAN'S FAVOURITE CHAIR-

BUCKY: YOU HAVE ISSUES GET OFF ME-

(one hour later)

Steve: Hey so turns out I don't have a car! Isn't that funn...

Sam & Bucky: *Squeezed awkwardly on the chair together*

Steve: I think I left something in my car

-

Steve: Leave the bedroom door open when you have Vision in there

Wanda: UGH you're so protective

Tony: Teenagers, am I right? Caught Pete reassembling my particle accelerator at midnight because he needed to neutralize a miniature nuclear bomb he nabbed off some guy he neglected to tell me was trying to kill him

Steve:

Steve: Wanda y'know what do whatever you want

Wanda: Really?

Steve: Yes just keep being normal. At least I can read about our issues in a parenting book

-

Thor: Ah, new warriors I see! Good to make all your acquaintance. But why are you so grumpy my friend?

Bucky: *glaring*

Peter: He's always like that. It's um, P- P- PMS? Wait -

Natasha: Yes it's PMS

Wanda: He's got it bad

Steve: *genuinely concerned* Bucky you didn't tell me something was wrong. What can I do to help?

Bucky:

Bucky: I like chocolate

-

Wanda: Welcome to the first annual girls night! This place reeks of men, so I thought we needed some women time

Pepper: Why is Vision here?

Wanda: I get sad when he's gone

Natasha: Why is Pietro here?

Pietro: Slay queens

Wanda: Moral support I think

Maria: Why is Peter here?

Wanda: He looked really upset when I said he wasn't included and I felt bad

Wanda: Anyways... yay girls! Who wants me to paint their nails?

Peter: ME ME ME

-

Steve: Pancakes or waffles?

Natasha: Pancakes

Steve: Good because I don't have a waffle maker

Natasha: Then why would you ask-

Steve: It's important for your voice to be heard, as team leader I value your opinion

*2 minutes later*

Steve: Good morning Clint, pancakes or waffles?

Clint: Waffles

Steve: Oh no.

-

Some of these were based on requests (ex. more Sam & Bucky, dad Steve w/ Wanda) so if you have certain dynamics you enjoy let me know !

[folkwhoredoll]

library affections - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: there are two things that you love in this world; rafe and books

word count: 0.9k

warnings/tags: none, just fluff with sweet boyfriend!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever thank you all enough for your support in all of my works :< tbh i did not expect to gain so much interaction because this blog is still relatively new but here you all are and i appreciate each and every one of you <3 this fic is another fluff boyfriend!rafe fic (is it obvious that i like fluff so much lmao) and i've written this a while ago. i hope you'll like this one! if you have a request or prompt in mind, feel free to send me a message. happy reading!

masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Being a regular visitor at the Camerons' estate has familiarized you with every corner of the house. Now, you have memorized every room and decoration, immediately spotting whatever is newly added. The Camerons didn't mind your presence, with your family being a close friend of theirs. Thus, it was no surprise that you ended up dating the one and only son of Ward Cameron.

With his father and stepmother often occupied and his sisters frequently out with friends, you and Rafe usually find yourselves with the house to yourselves, save for the occasional presence of the household staff. Yet, you've never minded.

Today follows a similar pattern. Ward left for a morning meeting, Wheezie went to school, and Sarah departed at noon to join John B's group. Surprisingly, even Rafe isn't home, having agreed to a golf outing with Topper and Kelce. Although he initially invited you to join, you declined, preferring to avoid the "boy talk" and the scorching sun. Thus, you find yourself waiting for Rafe in the living room, idly scrolling through your phone.

It's been around two in the afternoon when you got bored, sighing and deciding to stand up to walk around the house. Your feet already know where you're going when you face the familiar entrance to the Camerons' Library.

This room is your most loved spot in the whole estate, apart from Rafe's room. The vast shelves of bright book covers from different times always amaze you. If you could, you'd live in this room. Rafe has found you exploring this library countless times; even his sisters know it's the first place to check when you're not around the house.

Quickly scanning the shelves for a book, you settled upon a fantasy fiction novel, clutching the book as you made your way to a couch by the window. The first few chapters had you hooked immediately, eyes rapidly passing through every word as you moved chapter by chapter. The book was so good that it blanked your other senses, making you jump when you suddenly heard Rafe's voice.

"I knew you'd be here." He smirked, still in his golfing outfit, as he stood over you.

"Hi, Rafe." You smiled up at him, putting the book down on your lap. "How's golfing?"

Rafe plopped beside you, stretching his legs and putting an arm around your shoulder. "It was good. I got bored with Top's whining about his break-up with Sarah, so I left."

You chuckled when you saw his eyes roll, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. "They were together for a long time. You can't blame him."

"I guess." He shrugged before flashing you a flirty grin. "But I also want to spend time with my girl."

You snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"What? I do! I feel guilty about leaving you here alone." He defended.

"I don't mind, Rafe." You spoke.

"Hm. I bet you don't. But still."

You raised your brows, silently urging him to explain what he meant.

"I just mean that you were too distracted by that book, baby. I could've been an intruder, but you wouldn't even know. What is that about anyway?"

Your eyes lit up at his question; you've always loved speaking about the books you've read. And Rafe loved hearing you talk, even if he's mostly confused.

"I just started reading it, so I don't really know what it's about yet, but there's this girl, and she has electricity powers!" You started excitedly.

Rafe listened intently. He couldn't help but feel affection for you, marveling at how your eyes sparkled with passion for the story. Despite the chaotic world outside, at this moment, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the tranquility of the library.

As you continued to talk, Rafe's mind wandered, reflecting on how much you meant to him. You were the one person who could effortlessly penetrate his tough exterior, revealing the softer, more vulnerable side of him that he often kept hidden from the world. He felt at ease with you, free to be himself without fear of judgment or ridicule.

Lost in his thoughts, Rafe reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You paused mid-sentence, startled by the sudden touch, before leaning into his hand, relishing the warmth of his touch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you noticed the distant look in his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing, I'm just... happy. Happy to be here with you."

A soft blush colored your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. At that moment, surrounded by the scent of old books and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the window, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Leaning in, Rafe pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion as you returned his affectionate gaze.

With a contented sigh, Rafe settled back against the couch, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his side. Together, you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

At that moment, surrounded by the familiar comforts of the library, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

[eatommo]

Kisses of Fire [j.m.]

Summary: You and Joel get caught up in a champagne-filled domestic dream, and your impulses are too strong to resist. Aka, you and Joel sing and dance in the kitchen until you can't deny your feelings any longer.

C.w: slight dub con because of alcohol consumption, mentions of parental loss, age gap (reader is in her 20s), unprotected pinv, lots of praise, pet names, Joel is a sweet talker, fluffy dancing and cooking with Joel, size kink?, creampie, squirting, oral sex (f receive), mentions of oral sex (m receive), breeding kink if you squint, mutual pining?, idk I probably missed some let me know!

A/n: Hello! I am alive! I started a new job and it's been pretty crazy but I am pleased to bring you my first Joel Miller fic and my first contribution to the Dbf!joel subgenre that has been one my favorites lately. enjoy!

~3.5k

“Joel, the sauce is going to burn.” you stumble through a laugh, trying to focus the little clarity of your mind on the chicken browning in your ceramic pan. He had insisted on opening a glass of champagne to congratulate you on your new job. It was sweet and dry, exactly what you liked, and it went down easy.

You were sitting around the coffee table gushing and hardly letting the man get a word out, and then he asked if you were hungry, and well you hadn't yet eaten and with your stomach growling at his words, he was very insistent.

In truth, you'd always looked out for each other, you'd help pick up Sarah from school, on occasion try new recipes in his much larger kitchen, and in turn, he'd fix your sink leak, install a new shower head, or even build you a new coffee table.

Here standing in his kitchen you felt so comfortable, stirring the pasta with one hand and rummaging through his cabinets for oregano with the other. It could've been the alcohol or the decade-long crush on the older man that was driving you wild.

With a rush of melody, you realized where he disappeared as the fun rhythmic beat of Be My Baby echoes through the living room and into the kitchen. Joel's words barely call above the song, “Oldies okay?”

You turn to answer him, only to catch him jamming out to the song behind you as he strides cool as a cucumber back into the kitchen. “More than okay.” You’re beaming, enjoying the music and the laid-back demeanor of his slight dance and groove.

You've cherished the few moments of joy since your father passed away a few years ago, singing with him and Sarah in the car, bullying Joel onto a rollercoaster, and summertime BBQs complete with movie marathons.

This felt different. Not only was Sarah noticeably absent, but there was an electric hum of something between you, it was almost palpable. Chalking it up to the alcohol, you settle back into your rhythm of taking care of the food in front of you with extra sway to your hips and occasionally singing into the wooden spoon like a microphone.

Joel returns to your side, stirring the thick sauce before grabbing a spoon from a drawer and tasting it. He moans around the cheap metal, throwing his head back in exaggerated ecstasy.

Hoping the heat from the stove disguises your blush, you carefully accept a spoonful he offers you after he cools with a few quick purses of his lips, humming in agreement.

“What did you say this recipe was called?” When he's been drinking, his Texan drawl lengthens, and you swallow around the lump in your throat, lord have mercy.

“Marry me chicken? It's said to get a man to marry you on its own…” you try and let your voice trail off as he grabs a colander and begins to strain the noodles for you, and before you can think you add, “I thought it would be good practice.”

You catch something in his face as he looks toward you, now mouthing the words to a song by Simon and Garfunkel, but your brain is a little too fuzzy to dissect it completely. Turning off the heat, you quickly add bacon and parmesan before tossing the chicken and sauce mixture on top of Joel's freshly strained pasta.

He hovers over you like he hasn't eaten for days, grumbling something about sweet torture as you garnish his bowl with freshly grated cheese. Turning your attention to the table you see a second bottle of champagne adorning a small dining set, and your flukes full and awaiting your attention, and your blush returns, what is happening to you?

Dismissing himself to turn the music lower, you set his plate down and settle into your chair beside his. Briefly, you consider refusing another glass, you were supposed to drive home, but his slightly tousled curls and the nonplussed smirk on his face as he walks into your field of vision wash over your body like a cool shower on a hot Austin evening, refreshing, revitalizing, and rewarding you with his simplistic beauty.

The way his eyes fell to yours with each silly verse, speaking to each moment you’ve swooned over him in private and cementing the swell of your heart. He sits and you both immediately dive into the food, moaning in unison at the salty and creamy flavor. “I get it.”

“For sure.” You confirm, shoveling more into your mouth as delicately as you can in your haste. “I’ll keep it in my back pocket for sure.” You both laugh and reach for your champagne for a toast.

“To the luckiest man in the world.” This time, he does a piss poor job of covering his shock, and you don’t dare let the moment slip from your grasp, setting your fork down, and reaching to settle your hand on his forearm, tenderly running your fingers over the rough-tanned skin.

The affection seems to coach a weight from his shoulders, as the tension in them drops and he meets your eyes with a deep and wicked sense of playfulness. Holding his gaze, and touching the lips of the flukes together you smile innocently, and hum as the cool bubbles coat your tongue and lift your confidence higher with every passing moment.

In a flash you feel the energy in the room shift, as silence flirtatious eye contact is shared between smaller sips of champagne and groans of delight, you find your eyes lingering longer on the base of his throat and the purse of his lips around the tip of the glass.

In your stupor you miss his devilish grin, he’s chasing the feeling of your gaze on his skin, drinking in the slip of your guard, and suddenly the incredible food you prepared for him is not nearly enough to sate him.

It’s his turn to stare, watching as your lips part in a soft pant as he takes a lingering swig from his glass, imagining how delicious this could pair with the taste of your pussy. Fuck, he’s so hopeless, you could talk him into anything, yet you sit and torture yourself undressing him with your eyes and practically projecting your dirty thoughts onto his chest.

When your eyes meet again your breath catches in your throat, some snarky comment you bury beneath the burning fire on your cheeks. “Joel…” it’s an invitation, a plea, and your heart stands still in its cage in the breath between your words and his mouth on yours.

His beard and moustache are rough against your lips, but the kiss is hungry, and not nearly as vulnerable as you feel. It's a clash of tongues and teeth, your bodies are drawn together like the world is stitching them together with desperate rough movements.

You can taste the rich sweet champagne on his tongue as it drags over yours, tilting your head back with a soft hand on your throat. Standing to his feet, he breaks the kiss with a reluctance you feel, but he’s ushering the plates off the table in a single trip, setting them on the counter to be dealt with later. The complaint dies in your throat, as you let your brain devour him in a primal sense. The broad expanse of his chest rising and falling in heavy needy breath, the veins in his neck as he tilts his head to return the same hungry stare, you don’t make it past his biceps before his hands are on your sides, directing you to stand but only for a mere second as your practically lifted onto the kitchen table.

His mouth is on yours again, hot and determined, your mind is made up, and he can feel it in each little whine he swallows. Confidence surges through him, bolstered by the hum of alcohol in his system, and he leans over you guiding you to your back, while he slots himself between your legs.

You part them quickly, wanting to feel him pressed against you more than you want to breathe, and rather than following you he kisses down the smooth skin of your calves and begins working on the button of your shorts, yanking them up and off with a dexterity that would surprise you had it been anyone else.

The thin cotton panties are not your first choice of sexy intimates, but it doesn’t seem to phase him as his gaze holds at the growing wet spot pooling in the fabric. His index fingers ghost over the seam of your pussy. “Are you sure?” He kisses the words across your skin, moving along the inside of your thighs as his stubble draws the nerves in your skin taught.

You blink your eyes a few times, almost not believing and basking in the warmth of his breath. Your mouth falls open in a pant as you throw your head back onto the table, in any other circumstance it would've hurt. “Yes…Joel…please.” Each word takes a lungful of air worth of effort.

There's a dark chuckle as if taunting you for being so pathetic, as he nibbles on the skin of your inner thigh, you feel goosebumps spread across all your skin, unaware if it's from shame or the heat of his mouth muttering sweet nothings into your skin.

“So pretty,” he coos letting two fingers trace over your slick panties, “Spread out on my table for me,” he presses harder but slows his movements to a beautifully slow taunt, “A fucking meal.”

The chair moves sharply back with his movement, as he pulls your underwear to the side and licks at your hole for his first taste. His mouth is feverish in appetite, licking and sucking and caressing each part of your sex, the assault is overwhelming at first, the movements so erratic you’re unable to focus on anything but trying to breathe. Cantering your hips against his mouth his rough palm stalls one of your thighs from closing, the hand is firm and warm commanding you to obey in just its presence. “More,” you beg, again the pleasure dulled as he slowed to listen.

His free hand goes to the waistband of your underwear running along its length and tickling the skin, before you feel a rough tug at the fabric and hear the tearing sound before you can even comprehend what’s happened. The fabric disappears and the soft table mat you are perched on protects you from the cool wood of the table. He mumbles more things into the flesh of your mound, and he kisses at the exposed skin of your hips, “Sweet little thing.”

You throw a hand over your eyes, losing yourself to the embraces and brushes of pleasure he showers you in. He settles back between your legs, pinning them to your chest with his arm and working two fingers slowly into your tight heat. The stretch is pleasant, and he lets his tongue lave over the top of your sex. “Joel.” You whimper feeling his knuckles curl inwards brushing against a bundle of nerves that has your vision lulling white. Each stroke feels like it's pulling your soul from your body, and an unfamiliar pressure builds as he coaxes the orgasm to the surface with his tongue swirling over your clit.

You explode, soaking the table and his hungry waiting mouth feeling the clear gush of liquid pool beneath you and coat your thighs. “Oh god, I’m sorry I-” you stammer, not having experienced this yourself before.

Joel’s attention snaps to your eyes, “Don’t.” It's a warning, his eyes dark and muddled with something animalistic you’ve only seen when he’s angry. “You’re going to do it again.” he sits straight, and you realize he’s still fully dressed as he stands on his feet, dwarfing you against the table, undoing the length of his belt.

Unsure if your breathing is coming fast or if he is moving slowly, undoing the buttons of his flannel, and exposing skin that you’ve seen countless times before, but as each button is freed and his shirt spills open, you struggle to keep your breath even. Thick tanned skin, soft to the touch but cords of practical muscle run through his pecks, and down his well-defined biceps hold your eyes still, as your heart clips away steadily. You mumble something about his muscles, fawning over him like you’ve done so many times before, but unafraid to get caught this time.

He peers down at you, maintaining eye contact through your spread thighs as you lay waiting gawking at him like you always have, the loose leather of his belt is tugging the jeans down his hips slightly exposing the soft flesh of his stomach and the feather-light trail of hair disappearing below his jeans. He longed to reduce you to a babbling drooling mess, he wanted to mark your skin his and fill you so full his traces would linger on your cunt for days. Days, he knew it wouldn’t be easy to stop, he felt like he was running downhill and his legs were jelly beneath him, hurtling towards some sort of self-destructive meltdown. But the sweet tang of you lingering in his mouth, splashed across his chest, on his dining room table.

You were perfect, even more so than he thought possible. He ached, the jeans strangling his thick cock, he longed to free himself and sink into you. “Come here.” he stepped closer, back between the welcome squeeze of your thighs, and he wondered if he would need a new table.

You sat up barely even with his chest and when you're close enough he brings you in for a deep and filthy kiss, giving you a chance to taste your slick from his tongue and to groan as your hand settles over the hard length of his cock in his pants. You allow a finger to trace over the outline surprised when your hand keeps finding more of him to play with, fighting the urge to squeak in delight as each kiss grows in fervor.

If Joel hadn't suggested otherwise, you would've happily been fucked to bliss on the table, but as one of his hands falls to cup the supple flesh of your ass you're lifted into his sturdy arms. Now even this isn't a first, but your cunt is pressed flat to the ripped muscles of his abdomen and you can't help but trail feather-like kisses and nips across the thin skin covering his Adam's apple, half tempted to suck a bruise into his skin as he whines lowly into hair.

He traverses the stairs with ease, fingers squeezing and playing with your ass as he does so. As you enter his room, he leans in for another searing desperate kiss, nipping and tugging on your bottom lip almost painfully slow.

The bed is plush, more so than you expect, the sheets feel cool and inviting as you settle into them, not daring to turn your attention away from Joel for a second. The moon is the only light in the room, but it's bright enough for you to drool over the large bulge he reveals as he shucks his jeans.

“Something you want darlin?” that all-knowing chuckle, call your attention to his face, always handsome but there's a depravity and a hunger in his eyes that is a little bit intimidating.

“I-” You struggle to decide what exactly it is you want to do, part of you wants to let him lay down and have you suck his cock dry, and the other part wants to see you bent in half stuffed full of his cum.

Your stumble only brings another dry chastising chuckle, “Don’t worry honey, I'll take care of you.” His dark boxers leave little to the imagination, the fabric pulled tight across him as the curve of his cock is pinned to the curve of his hip. He’s huge, bigger than you could’ve dreamed, and by the looks of it nice and thick, you would be happily limping around in the morning.

He plants his hands next to your legs, crawling up your body until he’s even with your mouth, his skin radiating heat and his mouth meets yours once more. The taste of you is still lingering in his mouth, spurring you on.

The clothed hardness of him presses against you, insistent and delightfully relieving the tortuous pressure building at your core. You run your hands against the muscles of his back, at first gently caressing but as his teeth skim your pulse you dig into the flesh with your nails. “Joel…” you whimper, knowing if he wanted to drag this any further you'd have no choice but to beg, there's something so addictive to his power and the way he looks at you. He knows what he's doing to you, he knows the way you shift your hips to grind against him is a silent plea, he wishes he could withhold longer, but each hitch in your breath coaxes more precome spilling into his boxers, he hasn't been this hard since he was a teenager.

He hushes you, soothing you with a hand running over your hair, and shoves his boxers down to free himself. He lets the weight of his cock slide over your sex, the thick head catching deliciously on your clit and allowing it to get coated in what's left of your cum. You both groan into another kiss, “Condom?” The question shocks you into reality briefly, but you quickly shake your head no, not bothering an attempt to form any words.

You swear you hear a whimper in his half-lidded chuckle, but you try to focus on the feeling of his body pressing against yours, the heat of him and the rich smell of his skin the taste of his mouth as he kisses you through a few more lazy strokes.

He runs a calloused hand over the soft skin of your throat before sliding it around and into the hair at the back of your neck, tilting your eyes to his As he lines up and slides in a single brutal thrust. Your body tenses at the stretch, but the pleasure is immense and Joel's mouth parts in a pant so beautifully you crack a wickedly seductive smile.

As he begins to canter his hips, his grip on your hair gets tighter, holding your eyes to his, his pelvis grinds delectably against your clit, as the ridges of his cock and the angle of his hips drag along your walls. You wonder if you'd been able to take it if it hadn't been Joel, you don't think you've ever been this fucked out in your life. He presses your legs slightly further apart nudging at your cervix, and grounding down.

The orgasm rips through you before you know it, the shake in your legs and your panted obscenities only encourage him further. “Fuck, good girl,” your hips love on their own grinding up fucking yourself through the climax as a second wave of white-hot pleasure soaks his abdomen and your thighs, “So good baby.”

Your head drops, body limp and wrecked he kisses along your cheeks and forehead, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

He moves quicker than you can register what's happening, his boxers are on the floor and suddenly you are straddled over his lap dropping down onto his cock as he buries his face in your tits. Tongue drags deliciously over your nipples as he lets you adjust to the new angle, you rest your head on top of his, kissing his sweat-damp hair and rocking your hips slowly. You didn't think he could feel any bigger, each slight rock nudges almost painfully against your cervix, words no longer forming in your brain and breath escaping in squeaks.

You let yourself get caught up in the moans and praise failing out of Joel nonsensically, the drag of his stubble on your skin overstimulating, you bear down on him and shiver as you hear the hitches in his breathing. “Where?” you almost miss it, his voice is hoarse, desperate, strained even.

“Cum inside me.” you can't suppress the smirk, “I want it.” It's your turn to pull his head back, looking deep into the rich dark brown eyes as they admire you, he chews on his lip. His shoulders hunch as you feel him twitch, his grip tightening on your hips as he uses the last bit of his strength to bounce you on his lap and fuck up into you as he cums deep and hard into your wrecked swollen pussy.

You suppress a shutter, you feel like you're made of gelatin and you slump against his body, going completely slack.

He waits a few moments to collect his wits and allows you both to catch your breath. “Should I start a shower?” You laugh, hoping to skirt over any sort of rebuff.

“Sure,” he massages the flesh of your ass, “I'll take care of the leftovers.” You're overwhelmed with a sense of relief, both letting out a massive sigh at the same time, and laughing once you make eye contact again. You feel his heartbeat against your chest and lean in for another kiss, the complicated stuff can come later, but the smile he gives you as he tilts his chin up slightly for the kiss, makes you feel like it's all going to be more than you could've dreamed of.

Part 2

[kelcemenow]

Return To Sender - Chapter 2.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1551

Warnings Nothing, we're still setting the scene. But there's a smidge of flirting!

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

The radio played softly in the background as you meticulously proof-read the last paragraph that you had quickly typed. You had woken up early, motivated and determined to have your first draft finished and sent to your editor, meaning you hadn't even changed out of your pyjamas before sitting down at your desk to work.

Reggie was still snoozing in his bed when you leaned back in your chair, scrolling carefully to check again for any obvious spelling errors or punctuation mistakes. You adjusted your posture and attached the document to an email to Sarah, your editor, clicking the send button with a small smile. Rolling your neck, you rose from your chair and glanced around your office, a small collection of brown boxes piled in one corner and a stack of framed photos and pictures that you hadn't gotten round to hang onto the walls yet. As you checked your watch for the current time, your doorbell rang, causing Reggie to lift his head excitedly.

"Stay there, Reggie." You said, holding your palm out with the verbal command.

The old, original wooden floorboards creaked as you paced towards the front door, the sound from the radio growing louder as you approached the living room. Turning the key in the lock, you opened the door to see your neighbour standing on your front porch.

"Hey, I...uh...brought your mail again. They keep delivering it to my house." He said with a sheepish grin.

You took the small stack of letters from him, "Thanks. Although, you could've just left them in my mailbox again?"

His eyebrows lowered slightly, "Yeah. But I figured bringing them to you was the neighbourly thing to do?"

You smiled, biting your bottom lip awkwardly in the short silence.

"Anyway-" He started.

"Would you like to come in for some coffee?"

His eyes twinkled for a moment and he lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck, "Uhh...sure. Thanks."

You turned around and headed for the kitchen, leaving him to close the door behind him and instantly wondering if the coffee invite to a complete stranger was a mistake.

Meandering around the large dining table that was situated in the middle of the kitchen, you reached your coffee maker and opened the cabinet above it, your hand ghosting over the myriad of options, "Latte, cappuccino, americano?"

He stood in the kitchen doorway with his hands in his pockets, "Americano, please, thank you."

You nodded towards one of the dining room chairs as you grabbed the correct coffee pods that you needed, "My Mother would be so disappointed in me. She always told me not to invite strange men into my house for coffee."

The man laughed as he sat down and dipped his head, resting his elbows on the table and interlocking his fingers, "I suppose I should've introduced myself first, huh?"

"It's only fair. I mean, you know my name from snooping at my mail."

"Hey, I was being a good neighbour and bringing it to you!"

Your shoulders shook as you chuckled, "I'm just messing with you! I appreciate it, really."

"Travis. I'm Travis."

You pushed the coffee pod into the machine with a soft click and turned to face him, "It's nice to meet you, Travis."

He smiled back at you, the creases around his eyes deepening, "So, you like it here?"

"Yeah. I mean, I only moved in on Sunday so it might still be too early to tell. But so far...all good." You carefully filled the mug with coffee before placing it down onto the table.

He grabbed the drink with his large hands and pulled it closer to him, nodding his head in appreciation, "So, where are you from?"

You finished making your own drink and took a seat opposite to him, "Chicago, originally. But my family moved down to Atlanta when I was young. Then I went to New York, Buffalo...Kentucky for a little bit. And now I'm here." You shrugged.

"Wow, that's a lot of moving."

You laughed under your breath and glanced at another stack of unpacked boxes by the refrigerator, "Yeah, you'd think I'd be better at it by now."

Travis' eyes darted towards your outfit, "Are your clothes still in boxes?"

You looked down, confusion washing over you before noticing that you were wearing your pyjamas. A warmness rushed to your cheeks and your hands flew upwards to cover your face subconsciously, "Oh my God, I didn't realise I was still wearing these."

"It was either that or it was some new fashion that I didn't know about."

"Well, this is embarrassing." Your head dropped, shaking from side to side.

Travis sipped his coffee quickly, "Nah, it's kinda cute."

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your chest burning from his comment. Almost immediately, Reggie came bounding into the room, seemingly impatient from waiting in his bed.

"Awww, hey big guy!" Travis called out, allowing Reggie to place his front two paws on his knees as he praised him, "You're a good boy aren't you? You're a good boy!"

You smiled as Reggie's tail swayed wildly, "I take it you're a dog guy?"

"I love dogs. I got two at home." His head tipped towards the window that faced the street, "If you ever need a dog walking partner, I'm your guy."

"That would be awesome. Reggie needs a lot of walks so sometimes we are out for hours just walking for miles." You stood up to retrieve a treat from the glass jar on top of the refrigerator, "Luckily, I work from home and for myself so my days are pretty flexible."

You handed the treat to Travis, which he accepted gladly, as did Reggie, "What do you do?"

"Oh, I'm a writer." You said, almost coyly.

"A writer?" His eyebrows lifted, "That's impressive. Would I have read anything of yours?"

You folded your arms, "Probably not, unless you read romance novels often?"

"Hey, I can be a romantic guy!" He winked, causing a tightness again in your torso. "Wait...Y/N L/N?"

You winced, unsure of his reaction, "Yeah?"

"My Mom loves your books!" He called out, his eyes wide and his hands gesturing towards you, "She's read like...all of them!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot." You nodded and rolled your eyes, "My demographic is single working women and Moms."

Travis smiled, "She's going to be blown away when I tell her that you're my new neighbour!"

"I could sign a couple of copies if you think she'd like that?"

"Are you kidding? She'd love that!" He clapped his hands together, "Imma get some serious good son points for this!"

You giggled, "Glad I could help with that!" You took another sip from your coffee, "So, what do you do? Apart from being a part-time mail man?"

Travis smiled widely, "I'd be a great mail man! I'd sing on my rounds, I'd tell jokes, I'd dance down the street, people would love me as their mail man!"

"I expect that tomorrow morning then!"

"You got yourself a deal." He tipped the rest of the coffee into his mouth, using his thumb to wipe away a drop that escaped onto his bottom lip, "I play football."

You leant forward slightly, intrigued, "Like, play football? Or play play football?"

Travis' lips thinned as he smiled, "What's the difference?"

"Do I have a football star in my kitchen, is what I'm asking?"

He shrugged slightly, "Well, it depends what you mean by 'star'?"

Your mind suddenly flashed with information, and Travis' face became instantly recognisable, "Travis Kelce? Oh my God, you're Travis Kelce? I can't believe I didn't recognise you, I saw you on SNL!"

He rubbed his beard with his left hand, his right one still gripping his empty coffee mug, "Yeah, that's me."

"Oh my God, I...I can't believe I'm having coffee...in my pyjamas might I add, with Travis Kelce." You choked slightly on your words, "My brother loves you!"

"Hey, invite him over! I'll get my Mom here, we'll have a barbeque and make our families happy!"

You laughed, leaning forward to lightly tap his arm, instantly noticing how solid his muscles were, "We could get married and maybe their brains would explode!"

Travis' laughter bellowed out as he slapped his hand down on the table.

"Wow, that was weird." You pressed your fingers to your temples and stared straight ahead at Travis, who was clutching his stomach, "I don't know why I said that!"

"Relax, Y/N. It was funny." He said breathlessly.

The corners of your mouth lifted and you exhaled a relieved sigh.

"Listen, I gotta go. But thank you for the coffee, it's been really cool getting to know you."

You picked up the two empty coffee cups from the table and placed them into the sink as Travis said his goodbyes to Reggie. Smoothing over your pink satin camisole top, you made your way to the front door and opened it, letting the fresh air and bright mid-morning light pool into the hallway.

"I'll see you around?" Travis said as he arrived next to you at the door, "And try and have some clothes on next time, huh?"

You blushed as you watched him skip down the few steps and onto the pathway, turning quickly to flash you another smile.

______________________________________________________________

Not much to say for this one, it's still building somewhat! I am always open to suggestions as to what should happen with my ongoing series' so feel free to send a message or an inbox with any ideas!

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[tragedyslut]

why did ur dad joel work make me cry it’s everything </3 i love dad joel i need him to adopt me

♡ too cold out here ♡

✶ [ j.miller ] ✶

♡ ADOPTIVE!FATHER!JOEL MILLER X FEM!PRE-TEEN!READER ♡

🩷 SUMMARY — written especially for you anon, i hope you love this as much as the last one<3 reader is roughly 11-12,ellie doesn't exist in this au(my girl is just poof, never met her or anything), joel lives in jackson with tommy and goes out on parrol one day, its extremely snowy and cold, so when he finds you his heart melts. you remind him of sarah. he adopts you, you're his daughter. even if its not by blood:((<33 ill probably write a part 2 to this soon, just probably not for the next day or two cause im sleepy 🪽

your family had been eaten by a hoard of walkers. you got out. you didn't know how, in all honesty. you just ran, you ran until you couldn't anymore. you were curled up in your pajamas under a tree around 3 miles away from where you and your parents had been holed up. you weren't even wearing socks. the bottom of your pajamas were wet with snow. so was your back from lying on snow and dirt. you were so cold. your icy tears burned your cheeks as you desperately tried to stay alive.

on the other hand, joel was on patrol. it was calming, or so he thought. he was going down his usual route on his horse, just humming a tune and keeping warm in his jacket. he froze up when he saw you, curled up like that. he thought you were dead until he got closer and heard your weak sniffles and whimpers. and you were clutching a blue teddy bear with one of your hands. it reminded him of sarah. when she got shot, the way she curled up when she knew she was going to die. it broke his heart. he couldn't leave a child like that.

he hopped off his horse, geing careful not to scare you as he approached you.

" hey kid.. what're you doing out here? " he said sweetly. he got on his knees and sat you up, you looked terrified. and freezing. you definitely had hypothermia by now. you were practically going blue.

" you alone? " he said, taking note on how you frantically nodded.

" okay. its alright now. ive got you. you're safe. " he said, tearing off his jacket to put it around you instead. he then reached out to pick you up. you clung onto him like a parasite. it was adorable. he made sure to pick up your stuffed animal too, putting it in his gear back. he hopped back on his horse, putting you infront of him since he doubted you had enough strength to hold him to keep yourself on the horse.

it didn't take long for him to be back in jackson. he soon had a worried tommy running over to him.

" what the fuck- whos that? is she dead?! " the younger man shouted, making you flinch and instinctively curl against joel. whimpering.

" calm the fuck down. you're scaring her. i found her in the woods. theres no way i could've left her. she was freezing. " joel muttered. he hopped down from his horse, taking you straight inside his own house and setting you on the couch. he took out your stuffed animal from his gear back, tucking it in your grasp. tommy had followed him inside, sighing loudly.

" you sigh like that again and ill get Maria to shove her foot up your ass. you know how she feels about kids. no child should get left out in the woods to die like that. so i don't know what you expected from me. " to joels relief, tommy shut up after that.

he found a clean tshirt of his, and decided to let you change into that. it wasn't much, and it would definitely be more like a night gown on you, but it was something. its not like he'd have little girls clothes in your size anyways, he wasn't a creep that kept those sorts of things on hand, especially not during the apocalypse.

" here kiddo, change into this. itll be long on you, like a night gown. nice and warm. just lemme know if you need help, its what im here for. " he said, exiting the room along with tommy to give you some privacy. he kept a listen out in case you didn't have the strength to get changed, he was worried you'd collapse or something. you'd barely moved since he'd found you. though he turned his attention to tommy. who had returned back to sighing loudly.

" what're you gonna do with her? keep her?! adopt her?! " tommy said, seething.

" what if i do? what if I do huh? you don't get to decide what the hell i do. i have a spare room, jackson ain't low on supplies, so whats the issue?! that kid needs someone to take care of her, because she was all alone for god knows how long, and i don't care what you say. im going to take care of her. shes my responsibility now. "

tommy was silent. he just nodded. they both perked up at the sound of pattering feet coming towards them. you soon appeared in the doorway. you had gotten changed, and the tshirt was basically a nightgown just like joel thought. it was adorable. the sight of you just staring up at the two of them. you had your stuffed animal in your hand still.

" hey kid. can you talk now? do you wanna tell me your name? " joel said gently, kneeling down so he was at your level.

" .. y/n. " you mumbled, your voice was weak, like it hadn't been used for a long time. joel smiled.

" thats such a pretty name. what happened to your parents y/n? " he said, trying not to make you too upset, but he had to know.

" there.. was a hoard of.. those clicky things.. and they ate my parents.. and i ran.. but it was really cold.. " you muttered, tearing up. in an instant, you were back in joels arms. he held you tight, letting you just cry.

" listen sweetheart, im gonna protect you okay? ill take care of you. i promise. " he said, stroking your hair. he was so gentle, incase he somehow hurt you. tommy couldn't help but smile at the sight.

that night, we found that you wouldn't let him leave you. you were terrified of being alone. which, wasn't that surpising. he ended up taking you into his room, laying down with you. you clung onto him. he found you adorable.

" get some sleep darling, you're safe here. " he muttered, making sure you went to sleep.

those few weeks after, he spent making sure you were well cared for and protected.

he made you food, scavenged for clothes that would actually fit you, made sure you slept well. it all payed off. you were adorable. you still clung onto him constantly and he didn't mind. you were just a scared kid.

eventually, one night you woke him up.

he felt you tugging on his tshirt, and saying something over and over.

" dad, wake up " you were muttering. it melted his heart. he hadn't been called dad in ages. years. it felt so good. he was your dad, you were his daughter. thats all that mattered.

" yea sweetheart? " he mumbled, pulling you close.

you forgot what you were going to ask. all you wanted was your dad to hold you, forever.

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[pendarling]

Approaching Exam

CW: Language, mentions of exam, studying, Math and English

I'm held hostage by the education system so here is a story revolving that.

Hero's pen clicked over and over again as the slow wind trickled in through the window.

They hated exams, and sometimes, they hated studying more than the results themselves.

Hero sat in the quiet room, a closed-off sector of the library that could be rented out for a few hours in a day, and they were lucky enough to get into one after weeks of waiting. They could see why it was so popular after all; the walls in the room allowed for complete silence, and it put Hero at ease despite the slight eerie sense of being alone. Their eyes glanced up at the sky through the window. The clouds moved so slowly, yet time seemed to go by fast. It made their stomach churn at the idea of being unable to get past the first page of the exam when it did happen, and time would slip by them before they got the chance to complete any of the answers. Their eyes flickered back down onto their page at the mathematical equations listed out in front of them.

"Fuck me." they sighed and ran their fingers through their hair. If Hero could trade their life as a student to become a full-time hero, they would, but being a hero didn't pay as well these days and eventually, as they entered adulthood further, they would need to look for a proper job.

'How annoying,' they thought.

The door knocked softly, and Hero turned in their seat as the entrance creaked slightly; their time wasn't up already, was it? They stared at the clock. About half an hour remained still, in walked what looked to be a familiar face, but Hero couldn't put where they'd seen them before. Their brows furrowed when their eyes met.

"Excuse me." The stranger spoke, "Is this room E1B?" They sheepishly laughed at the setting. "I think I'm supposed to be in here today." 

Hero pulled out their phone and checked the schedule they were emailed, "Mmm nope, it says here that this is my room."

The stranger turned their phone toward them as well, "Well, it looks like we got double-booked."

Hero leaned back on their chair, it looked like they'd be having company after all. With a small gesture of the head, Hero directed their new friend to the chair opposite the table. "Sorry." They mumbled they weren't sure why they were apologizing; it was the system's fault for scheduling two persons in the same room within the same hours.

They studied the new character as they set down their items and pulled out the chair. Hero wasn't planning on staring too much, but when someone looked this familiar to them, it was hard to look away. 

They turned their focus back onto their page, still stuck on question 6 out of 30. The practice exam had to be more challenging, and there was no way Hero would make it through tomorrow if they couldn't get this done today.

Sarah is a civil engineer working on a project to design a curved ramp for a pedestrian bridge in a city park. 

Hero ran their pencil under the words.

The ramp needs to smoothly connect two different levels of the park while adhering to safety regulations and accessibility standards. Sarah decides to use a curved shape for the ramp, represented by the function y=√x​, where y represents the height of the ramp at a given distance x along its length.

Hero sighed and ran their fingers through their hair; they were so bored. Why was Sarah even a civil engineer? With all that money to get through the education and become one, she could've instead lived comfortably and married a nice rich husband, assuming her status was at least middle class.

This scenario was so unrealistic, plus it's like ten times harder for women to get into male-dominated fields because of sexism. Hero rolled their eyes and skipped the question. They flipped their page and glanced back at the stranger now reading a book, but what caught them by surprise was their hand, idly twisting a blue highlighter they felt they recognized.

From the back of their memory, Hero recalled a similar situation. 

They sat on the floor bound by a rope. The mission of the day wasn't going as well as they had hoped, and Hero was left at the mercy of Villain while the other sat a few feet away from them on what looked to be a large desk. From their perspective, they could hardly make out what the computer screen in front of Villain was saying, but they could certainly see the way Villain effortlessly twirled the pen between each finger. They always wondered how they did that. 

As soon as their memories left them, it had become apparent. The familiar face across them was Villain.

But what could they be doing here?

There was no way Villain was seriously studying how to annotate for what looked to be an English exam. For some reason, Hero never took Villain for being a student themselves. To be fair, they sort of assumed most villains weren't necessarily part of any civilian activity, and certainly, no villain should be a student of the city they tried destroying. 

Man... if Hero could get Villain to destroy the school facility, they wouldn't be studying at all. However, seeing how diligently Villain remained focused on their work made Hero no longer interested in convincing them.

'Oh God,' Hero turned their face away from their direction, 'What if Villain recognized me and didn't say anything?!' In their bag, Hero knew they kept their dagger just in case they should ever be kidnapped by any particularly vengeful villain; they just didn't think it would be this person of all; they never seemed too fond of doing more than their work let them. Hero swallowed; in that case, they should prepare for a sudden attack if it did occur; there was just no way this was all a coincidence.

Booking two students into the same room? Are you kidding me? The system never messes up. This was clearly a ploy set up to kill Hero.

Their nervousness was felt as soon as their leg began to jump noticeably, shaking the table, much to Villain's delight.

"Excuse me," They set their eyes on them. Hero froze, "Please don't shake the table. I can't write."

"Uh-- sorry."

Hero reached down and unzipped their bag, slowly creeping the knife to their side; they would attack first; Villain wouldn't even see it coming. After unsheathing the blade from its case, Hero measured the distance between the two of them. The table really wasn't that large enough to stop Hero from jumping over it; maybe if they grabbed their arm or the collar of their shirt before throwing Villain down, they would have the upper hand. If that didn't work, maybe a kick or knocking a few items from the table for a distraction. 

Hero remained focused on Villain as their enemy remained unaware. Maybe they were aware and had already thought of all the different counterattacks they could use against them. In that case-- the element of surprise was most valuable.

"What?" Villain frowned at them. Hero shook themselves out of their head; they must've been unknowingly staring for too long. Well, no point in getting embarrassed over it now.

Hero's grip tightened on the handle of the dagger as they chuckled nervously, "Oh, I was just wondering--" They jumped from the table and shoved the blade in Villain's direction. With a calculated move, Villain swiftly moved their head, catching their wrist with their other hand but knocking themselves out of the chair. 

Hero jumped away from them, their ankle stung from accidentally hitting themselves on the edge of the table just as they moved. Villain didn't waste any time and lunged at them, quickly covering the space between them.

A solid blow to their stomach sent Hero stumbling back, and the dagger fell from them with a soft clank; they sunk to their knees, holding themselves from instinctively vomiting.

Villain grabbed the weapon and rushed to the open window, quickly locking it in place and closing its blinds. The room was a lot darker than Hero expected. Had that window always had shutters?

Hero hesitantly stood back up. The sharp metallic edge was pointed in their direction. "Don't even think about trying that again."

Their shoulder tensed at the thought of their next plan; they could run out that door, but what were the odds that Villain had already sent back up to encircle the place, and how would they keep civilians from getting hurt?

Villain licked their lips and inched closer, "Who sent you?" they demanded. 

"Huh?" Was Villain genuinely asking them that? Wait-- did Villain not recognize them?

They laughed softly at the idea of having figured out their enemy's identity before them. 

Hero, the idiot who couldn't get past question 6 on the practice math exam, could easily identify Villain. All this time, they had been under the impression that Villain was intellectually superior to them in every way, and although that may be the case, they were not one for remembering faces. It made part of Hero feel tremendous.

"No one." 

Their bag still contained a few other items of use, such as a small smoke grenade that would definitely come in handy. Hero would have to go online and do the practice exam from their computer; there was no way in hell they'd be able to collect all their things and run. 

Villain wasn't feeling very entertained with the prospect of having to forcibly recall to the best of their ability what they'd done to be assassinated during their downtime. Without letting their eyes leave the other student, they walked toward Hero's bag and reached down; Hero felt a sweat come on; did they know they were hiding more tools in there?

"Hey, don't go and steal my lunch money, alright?"

"Shut up." They pulled the tag attached to the bag and examined the student ID card intently; it looked like an actual student identification card, though the name didn't ring a bell at all. 

"Villain, I'm actually offended that you don't know who I am."

"My bad, I wasn't aware there was an exam for memorizing faces as well." They tilted their neck from side to side, examining Hero's unmoving position. 

Nothing about them stood out, but this person knew their name and must be a hero, at the least, seeing how their only sense of heroism was throwing themselves in danger-- a common feature among most heroes, but that didn't narrow down which hero, in particular, they were looking at.

"Not even my voice?" Hero glanced at them with a slight pout.

Their enemy racked their brain, still clueless about their identity, and their hands roamed around the pieces of paper Hero was working on. "Whatever, are you even a real student or did you just come here to distract me?" 

Hero didn't reply with anything other than a shrug. They didn't initially come to attack Villain, but they also couldn't let Villain live freely within their presence. 

Villain raised the practice exam questions to their face, reading the sheet as if searching for answers to help them understand who they were up against. "You didn't even do most of these right. How did you get 1.6667? It's not even listed in the multiple choice."

They threw down the booklet onto the table; Hero blushed, "I'm not good at that stuff. But don't change the topic, alright? I could've killed you if I wanted to."

"But you didn't." They smirked.

The door pushed open again, and Villain hurriedly tucked the dagger away.

"Excuse me~" A young woman and a few of her other friends stood outside, "We reserved this room for 6 pm...?"

Villain looked at the clock and then back at the group. "We'll be leaving now. Sorry about that." They looked at Hero and egged them to get to cleaning their mess. Their feet moved, albeit nearly struggling to keep themselves upright from the pain of their ankle. They should've been a lot more careful when it came to spatial awareness. Now wasn't the time to mull on that, though. 

Once they had left the library, Villain headed in the direction of their exit. "You still following me?" They spoke, almost irritated.

"You have my dagger, and I would like it back. Please." With a short flick of the wrist, Villain dismissed their request and continued on their way down the flight of stairs. Hero had momentarily wondered what would happen if they had just gotten on with it already, pushed Villain down the stairs and took back their knife. It wasn't like anyone saw it happen anyway; no one stuck around this long after hours, not even the faculty. 

Villain abruptly stopped in their tracks, still a little ahead of them. "Hero?"

"Yes?"

With a slight smile tracing their face, Villain spun their head around to look up at them. For a second, Hero was lost at what they were so happy about until it hit them, and they responded to their name at Villain's call. 

"Fuck you."

Villain simply hummed, satisfied, and moved on.

~~~ MASTERLIST

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[deceitfuldevout]

Haunting You

Dark!Rafe Cameron x Housekeeper!Reader

Word Count: +1,574

Warning(s): +18, Kidnapping, Mentions of past non con, Forced pregnancy. Ward is a warning himself.

Author's Note(s): I got this idea after listening to Beyonce's haunting music video.

You've been best friends with Sarah since childhood. When your parents decide to move away, she insisted you live with her family to attend the same college. With their blessing, you find yourself living with the family as a personal housekeeper. It's a reliable source of income that's kept you busy.

As soon as school was out, you decide to pick up another job at a local diner. You were given a key to their home due to you working late shifts. Ward insisted it was too dangerous, he assigns Rafe as your personal driver. But when you go missing one night, the entire town has their eyes set on the Cameron family.

A search party is held the next morning and following nights after. Rafe is the only one who doesn't attend. Only returning after spending the weekend probably partying. Ward scolds his son for being so careless, but Rafe didn't seem to care. No matter what he does, his father always seems to find another flaw in him. He shows more affection towards his daughter's best friend than his own flesh and blood. He'll be damned if he's second best to some Pogue.

It's been months since your disappearance. So when the police inform the Camerons that your investigation had been labeled a cold case, Ward had to be the one to break the news. After the last and final search party, Ward consoles his daughters. Rafe on the other hand, was nowhere to be found.

Typical, unreliable Rafe. In fact, none of it even bothered him. Someone who he's been responsible for the past year suddenly goes missing and there isn't even the slightest bit of concern. Nothing. If it weren't for Topper's party, he would've been a prime suspect. Ward knew of your friendship with Sarah, that’s why he agreed to hire you in the first place. You were a good kid. Until the day his son informs him that you ran off with some merchandise. Ward ignored all of Sarah's pleas and files a police report, from then on the rest was history.

Ward had kept himself cooped up in his office. Tonight had been a thunderstorm warning he could hear the heavy rain pattering against the windows. He listens to the strong, sharp wind. It resembles a faint cry, no...plea. It sounded almost like you. Like he could hear your cries from down the halls. As if you were still here. Calling, pleading for help. This wouldn't be the first time he's felt a presence in their house. He swore he heard it first coming from the vents. Surely it would go away the next morning. An hour had passed and it was still there.

A faint, ghost-like howling. Ward knows he isn't alone. Wheezie was out for a slumber party, and Sarah was at a friend's place. He could've sworn he saw Rafe stepping foot inside right before the storm hit. But nowadays it was hard to tell. His son barely set foot inside the house. Not unless he was rummaging for supplies or extra cash. To the point where even his father grew suspicious of his activities. He wasn't on Pogue territory, and none of his Kook friends had seen him recently. His jeep was still parked out front, so where the hell was he?

Ward searches for his son upstairs. He makes his way inside Rafe's room. His son wasn't there, the only clue being left is his phone tossed aside on the bed. Knowing Rafe, he'd never step outside the house without it. This time there's another shrill cry, more audible is heard coming from behind Rafe's bed. It sends shivers down his spine. Ward pulls it back, revealing the vent connected to it. He knows where it leads to.

See, the Cameron estate held a few secret rooms. One of them had been in his office. Another in the library, and the last room being an underground storage unit, built years ago by the first owners. He makes his way to the basement, where the entrance to the bunker was. To his surprise, there was a faint light at the end of the staircase. Finally, the voice halts. Whoever this intruder was, they're certainly not welcomed to squat in his house.

Ward picks up a lamp left at the end of the stairs. He follows the faint noise until he reaches the source. For a moment, they sound like Sarah's until he listens more closely, no, he was sure they were yours. But how? You'd been missing for months. He shines the light at the silhouette. His burning question finally being answered. That night their family joined your search party, everyone had been there. All except one.

Ward knew he should've spotted the signs. He knew something wasn’t right when his son of all people suggested that you, his old classmate, work with them. It wasn’t like his son to help hire employees. Let alone a housekeeper. He should've kept more distance between the two of you. That night, Rafe was supposed to pick you upand he did. The housekeepers who had left for the night. So there was no one who saw him dragging you down the basement stairs. During all these months he'd been cooped up down here. All this time, Rafe knew.

Ward didn't want to admit it. If he could just sweep this whole incident under the rug, then maybe it would fade within time. But there you were, sobbing, rocking yourself back and fourth. He notices you were holding something. A bundled blanket. It starts moving. That's when he realizes there was no turning back from the damage Rafe had done.

A small fist raises in the air as the babe cried out for its mother. You were nearly drained, your face losing color as each minute passes. Drenched in sweat and still sore from the after birth. There was no time to spare. Ward had to think, and he had to think fast. Out of all the things Rafe could get himself in, why? Why did he bother someone like you of all people?

You were a good kid. You made everything around you better, and in a way, more complete. Ward noticed the way his son used to look at you. He should've stopped this sick obsession before it could take root. Never in his life would he predict such an outcome. You look up at him with pleading eyes, “P-please…please help us!” A small cry came from the covers. At that moment Ward realizes his son had gotten himself into something he couldn’t reverse.

What you had suffered was unfortunate, but he couldn’t risk losing everything he’d worked hard for. "P-please Mr. Cameron h-help me you have to hurry before he comes...!"

He throws on an act, "Honey, who?" Approaching you with fake concern.

"I'm so sorry I should've stayed far away--I should've never gone in his room if I knew he would--" you can't help but get choked up. Ward gently held your shoulders as he pulls you in for a hug. After a moment you gather enough courage to look him in the eyes, "It was Rafe. All along it was him!"

Ward felt horrible for what he was about to do, "Oh sweetheart..." he picks up the lantern and takes a step back, "I can't risk losing my family because of one mistake,"

That's when your entire world came crashing down. As if your heart had broken into a million pieces. This was the man who had watched you grow up with his children. Who you thought embraced you as one of his own. He sighs, "It's a small sacrifice to protect my family, I hope you'll understand now that you have one of your own," He makes his way up the stairs, ignoring the echoes that bounce off the walls as you plead, scream for mercy.

You let out a final shrill cry, "I hope this follows you for the rest of your life! Like a curse, I hope this haunts you for the rest of your life!" It was the last thing Ward hears from you before leaving. He meets Rafe at the entrance. His son drops the medical supplies in hand. He had had been sporting a fresh bruise on his face. One of the many you'd given him during these past months. Even now at your at your most vulnerable form.

Rafe had the audacity to look at him as if he'd just killed someone. Ward sighs, "Care to explain?" giving his son a moment to find the right words. Rafe isn't phased, not even in the slightest. He's not upset that he'd got caught. He's more nervous that his father found out about a the kid he had behind his back.

Rafe looks his father dead in the eyes, "I love her," smiling at his proclamation of 'love'. it was at that moment when Ward felt pity for his son. He should've known better when Rafe decided to go under the radar. Nothing good ever came from it.

As mad as he was, Ward couldn't blame the child born from such circumstances. So, the Cameron men decide to hatch a plan. Later that summer, the Camerons decide to hold a grand solstice celebration at their manor, inviting almost every single Kook in the area.

They decide to hold the event at their house. It was a coverup plan. An excuse to show off their newest renovations, which indirectly helped cover their tracks. A perfect distraction for the Cameron ladies of the house. Ward let them redecorate the inside in preparation for the party. It gave Ward and Rafe time to rearrange the old vents away from the noisy basement. All while Rose and the girls were kept busy with the décor.

During the event, Rafe took his time introducing his son to each and every last member of Kook society. The whereabouts of his mother seemingly out of the picture, abandoning her own child and leaving Rafe a single father. They took pity on him and the situation he'd been forced in. Rumors spreading that he'd been seduced by some lowly Pogue. He decides to step up into the role and embrace fatherhood, playing hero for safe face. Of course the Kooks ate his story up. Who doesn't love a happy ending?

Ward sees his son selling the story and can't help but feel much more relieved. Way more than he had been in months. But just to be sure, he kneels down to the nearest vent and places his ear against it, nothing. He hums a tune before downing his champagne. There would be no more 'hauntings' coming from the Cameron house.

[loonylooly]

at this point i'm wondering what sarah is thinking when writing her love interests, like ok it's clear she finds them hot but like....are they good people

Rhys:

UTM lap dance shenanigans

throwing Feyre into danger constantly (Weaver, destroying cauldron, getting the book from Adriata, etc etc)

Still not doing jack shit about wing clippings in Illyria?? Emerie is right there, Rhysand, go enforce your damn laws

Insulting his wife's sister constantly

Almost killed his wife's sister cause she dared give her important medical information

Locked Lucien (MY BOY!!) in the house of wind

Locked Nesta in the house of wind

Didn't give Mor any warning that time he made her face her abusers and she cried i think (ngl i forgot most of it)

Ignoring Hewn City even tho...Kier is like the only bad guy we've seen from there?? Surely there's decent people in Hewn City, don't gotta make everyone suffer

Nesta windhaven kidnapping intervention so she stops spending Rhys' money (if it was really about her own sake, they would've put a stop to it much earlier)

Seemingly alienates everyone in Feyre's life that could and would stand up to Rhys for Feyre's sake. Lucien? Nah, shoo. Nesta? Nah, shoo. Weird thought but Tarquin? Yeah, makes her steal his book.

And last but DEFINITELY not least; demon baby wife death

HE COULD'VE TOLD FEYRE... OR ATLEAST NOT THREATENED TO KILL HER SISTER FOR TELLING HER WHEN HE HOULD'VE TOLD HER IN THE FIRST PLACE??

THERE'S PROBABLY MORE BUT MOVING ON

Cassian:

Barely ever stands up for Nesta in the IC

Aids in kidnapping Nesta to Windhaven so she stops spending whysand's money

Laughs at Nesta when she falls down the stairs

Aids in punishing Nesta for daring to tell Feyre important medical info

Constantly going agaisnt Nesta's wishes and trying to "save her" when she doesn't want him to

That one time Azriel asked Nesta if Cass had pushed her down the stairs...Like are we gonna ignore that?? Personally I'd have a quarter life crisis if my closest friend, who is like my sibling and has known me most of our lives, seriously entertained the idea that i would physically assault the girl I like

general aggressiveness all of ACOSF

aids in bulldozing Nesta's apartment

Rowan goddamn Whitehorn (Who I've yet to see people bashing him somehow,,, HoF rowan was like if ACOSF cassian had a horrific murder baby

Left his pregnant mate alone during a war cause he wanted to prove himself....like..idk man if i had the choice between war and taking care of my pregnant wife i'd pick the wife (did he know she was pregnant? i've kind of forgotten by now)

Rowan's kid would've been hundreds of years older than Aelin.....just think abt that

Literally everything he did to Aelin during training in HoF

Their argument where he PUNCHED HER IN THE FACE

Threatened to whip Aelin...I repeat....Threatened to whip Aelin, an ex-slave....

Told Aelin it'd be better if she died 10 years ago (unprovoked?? bitch you met her like 2 weeks ago just cause she's getting on your nerves doesn't mean you gotta wish DEATH upon her)

Literally was relieved to find out she was only 19 because if she was a few years older she could've been THE CHILD OF HIS BEST FRIEND.

No issue with marrying the cousin of his best friend's child....Imagine if he hadn't met Aelin first.. If he'd met Aedion first, Aelin would've always been the relative of his friend's son to him

FOR THE RECORD i hate all of the SJM age gaps but rowan and aelin's specifically irks me because Aelin LITERALLY CALLS HIM OLD throughout the WHOLE SERIES

Literally tells Aelin he doesn't care about what she's been through and that she is nothing to him after she confronts him for leaving her

Puts Luca in danger by sticking him on to a frozen lake with a monster inside where he'll DIE if Aelin can't save him

Funnily enough, some of the only seemingly decent person guys in SJM 1. Are completely forgotten about in the books or 2. SJM had to make them violently unlikeable

Like we've got:

Tarquin, seemed like a pretty good guy, rightfully pissed that the IC stole his family heirloom, shows up like twice in the books (LET HIM COME BACK SARAH I LOVE HIM)

Tamlin, was pretty decent in book 1, was made violently unlikeable in book 2 onwards

Chaol, very strong morals, generally a good person, loves his wife, made violently unlikeable and boring in late CoM, HoF, and QoS (ToD is one of my favorite books in the series, will praise ToD till the day I die, my boy EARNED his own book)

Aedion, seemed like a good person, strong morals, spent years trading his dignity for the sake of Terrasen, loved his cousin above all else, made violently unlikable in KoA (even tho I think he was justified in being angry about it, i'd be SO pissed)

Sartaq, good guy, strong morals, Nesryn's chapters were some of my favorites in ToD, Sartaq is one of my favorite SJM love interests, i'll never forgive author lady for forgetting about him in KoA (tho i guess she forgot about everyone from ToD? Yrene and Chaol are the only important ones, she barely even mentions Nesryn even though Nesryn's BEEN an integral part of the gang since QoS, giving her the Suki from ATLA treatment)

[bisexualamy]

Your take on Power of Three is sooo good and correct! Underrated ep!

Thank you! "Power of Three" is another ep where I believe that I could Fix Her with minimal rewrites. I really think it's remembered poorly because the villain is underwhelming and underdeveloped. I think if they'd just simplified the villain, or turned the episode into a non-antagonist episode like they did with "Twice Upon a Time", more people would give it the credit it deserves. The point of "Power of Three" is not the villain.

Power of Three is an episode primarily concerned with what happens after people leave the TARDIS. Modern Who did this earlier, with Sarah Jane in "School Reunion", Jack in The Utopia Arc and later in Torchwood, and pretty much all of the farewell sequence in "End of Time." Chibnall did it later as well with the companion support group. But I think "Power of Three" is unique in that its tone is markedly more positive than previous examples. It's a lovely slice of life episode and a lovely ode to Amy and Rory, who've at that point were our companions the longest anyone's been a companion in Modern Who.

We get the Team TARDIS domesticity that many of us love. We get glimpses of Amy and Rory's friends back home, and the joy they take in "boring" things like weddings and dinner parties. It has the introduction of Kate Stewart and a lovely homage to the Brig. It has my favorite scene with Amy and Eleven by the Thames, where two people who have such difficulty being emotionally direct and genuine are able to now, after years of growing together, admit plainly that they love each other and they're terrified of losing each other. The episode is full of references to how the Doctor's fingerprints are all of Earth and its history, some good and some bad, but ultimately he is loved. His impact isn't just dramatic, be that saving the Earth or bringing about terrible tragedy. The Doctor is Amy and Rory's friend. The Brigadier's friend. Kate's friend. That's it.

I love "Power of Three" because, for the first time since the revival, we're seeing companions who grow beyond the Doctor, whose relationship grows and changes to include the Doctor less or differently, without tragedy being the catalyst. Amy and Rory aren't traumatized like Martha. They don't have their memories wiped like Donna. They aren't forcibly ripped away like Rose. They just built a life they like, and as they're growing up they're finding a lot of joy in all the different ways they can live their life.

Amy has learned to appreciate a life that is slower and simpler. Rory has grown confident both in his relationship with Amy and his career. Amy and Eleven explain the episode's point right at the beginning:

AMY: To think it's been ten years. Not for you, or for Earth, but for us. Ten years older. Ten years of you, on and off. ELEVEN: Look at you now. All grown up.

This is Amy's character arc, and Amy/Eleven's relationship arc, in a nutshell. This is the end of their story. And as much as I love "Angels Take Manhattan", I feel like really, in "Power of Three", Amy and Rory demonstrate that they're already ready to move onto the next phase of their lives. Maybe it could've ended less tragically. Maybe the Doctor could've visited them for decades and decades in the future. But they were never going to travel again like they did back in Series 5 and 6. And that can be wonderful.

[shut-up-danny-kun]

I know I've just made two Jareth appreciation posts but tbh, he is not my favorite thing about Labyrnth. Sarah and Jareth could've been replaced by whatever generic hero and villain and it still would've been one of my top 5 movies ever.

It's in the labyrinth itself. That shot where we see the walls stretching out into the distance with the Goblin City in the middle is forver ingrained in my brain. The way it has different sections, and puzzles to unlock a shortcut, and oubliettes, and underground tunnels - it feels like there's so much going on and we only get to experience 10% of it. I love the magical creatures that live inside and get up to their own shenanigans, and there's so many of them: from those creepy riders that attacked Ludo, to the talking faces whose job it is to scare people, to the dude with a creature for a hat (what was the deal with him, anyway?). The way it breaks the laws of space, but only sometimes, and there's no way to know when.

Coupled with the insane amount of detail and creative ideas, the practical sets sell the idea that you could actually go to the Labyrinth. It was my childhood dream! I cannot imagine the amount of labour that went into bringing a whole magical world to life.

[cowgurrrl]

If I Ever Were to Lose You

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DO NOT WANT TLOU2 SPOILED FOR YOU (also I was going to wait to post this but I like it so it’s getting posted 🥸)

Summary: “Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again.” - Vladimir Nabokov [1.1k]

Warnings: spoilers for tlou2 that’s all I’m gonna say, all the feminine rage, poor Tommy

The day is going by slower and slower as the patrolmen search for them. You knew Tommy and Joel were on patrol together, but they were supposed to be back by now. Ellie, Dina, and Jesse formed the groups before you could even wake up. You trusted him to take those late night/early morning shifts, you had no reason not to, but now the pit of anxiety is solid in your stomach. You would probably be throwing up if you had anything in your stomach. Maria tries to get you to eat, but you can't. You can't do anything until you know Joel and Ellie are safe.

Before the Outbreak, you heard stories of wives waiting for their husbands to come back from war. You listened to them recount nights of dread and fear. You sympathized with them when they told you the prayers they whispered despite never believing in God. They just needed to beg for their lives. They needed someone to hear them. And it still wasn't enough to bring their husbands back alive. You never thought you'd be like those wives who said prayers into non-believing hands, but here you are.

He told you not to go. He told you he had it handled. He told you it was fine, and you believed him. You've trusted Joel with your life before but always struggled with trusting him with his own. He could be reckless and get tunnel vision, especially when protecting his family. You've argued about it more than enough times. You thought he knew to keep his mouth shut and his head down, so he came home alive. You thought he knew the rules. You thought he could handle himself.

You hear the footsteps coming up the porch before you see the people. Maria calls after you as you rush out the front door to see Ellie standing there, blood dried to her face and hoodie. You don't think twice before wrapping her in your arms and crying with relief. She barely returns your hug, her weak arms shaking around you. "Who did this?" You ask when you pull away, putting your hands on her face. Ellie's not all there, that much, you can tell. She has the same faraway look in her eyes that she got after she killed David. She can't even look at you.

Tommy clears his throat behind her, and that's the first time you see the men standing on your porch. Tommy's bloody and bruised too, but he's alive. The rest of the patrolmen stare at their snow-covered boots, dried tears staining some of their faces. You search the faces three times and feel your body tremble when you can't find Joel.

"Tommy," you say, your voice breaking on the second half of his name. "Where is Joel?" Ellie flinches at your question and flees from your arms, retreating into the house. Bombs could've been falling from the sky, and it wouldn't have made you look away. Tommy says your name softly and tries to put his arms around you, but you push him away. "Somebody, please tell me where my fucking husband is!"

Two patrolmen step to the side to reveal the body bag they had been carrying. Your knees buckle under you. Tommy holds you up and says something in your ear. You think you hear Sarah's name but can't understand him over the ringing in your ears. You can't see anything except the black body bag in the snow. "Let me see," You say. The patrolmen look to Tommy like it's his decision, and you lose a piece of your sanity. "Let me see him!" You yell. Slowly and hesitantly, they unzip the bag and reveal Joel or what's left of him. You think they expected you to flinch or to run away at the sight of his body, but you don't. You drop into the snow next to him and stare at him. You reach for his hand and hold it tightly in yours, like the warmth from your body will be enough to breathe life back into his.

"What happened, baby?" You ask him, kissing his cold hand. The glint of his gold wedding band catches your eye, and you feel like you could shatter into a million different pieces. It's dented and stained with blood, but he's wearing it. He never wore his ring on patrol, but he wore it any other chance he got. He must've fallen asleep with it on and never taken it off this morning. He died wearing the ring you put on his finger, the one you used to promise you would love, respect, and honor him until he died. Until this moment. Except, your love doesn't fade looking at him even now. You squeeze his hand and sniff as tears fall into the snow next to him. "You said it was fine. You told me. You fucking told me you'd be home for dinner," you sob. You faintly register the patrolmen around you kneeling, but you can't look at them. You can only look at Joel. "I would've gone with you, you stubborn bastard, and we would've come home. We're a team. I should've been there. I should've… oh, God."

Your head drops to rest on his chest, and you scream so loud that the mountains seem to shake with the force. You don't care who hears. You want the earth to rumble with the depth of your grief. You want time to stop for everyone else the way it just stopped for you. Joel died, and you weren't there. Joel died, and you didn't get to say goodbye. Joel died, and there was no way to protect him after you promised him you would always have his back. You want more time. You deserve more time. He deserves more time.

You cry for a long time. Nobody tries to pull you away from Joel or soothe you. They just bear witness as darkness tingles at the base of your spine until your tears stop and you pick your head up. You kiss his hand one more time before laying it back down and holding your palm to the place where that big, soft heart used to beat.

"Who did this?" You ask. The patrolmen don't move or speak until you hear familiar footsteps approaching you.

"It was a kid. She couldn't have been much older than Ellie." Tommy says, and that makes you wince. Of course, Joel would soften for a young girl like Ellie. Of course, he would let his guard down around her. Of course, that would be his downfall.

"Where did she go?"

"She's a kid."

"That's not what I fucking asked you, Tommy," you stand and turn to face him. His Adam's apple bobs when he sees the deadly look in your eyes. "You tell me which way she went so I can rip her eyes out of her skull and then come back and bury my husband."

"I…It was a group. You can't take them on by yourself." One of the patrolmen speaks up, and your jaw clenches.

"If you make me repeat myself one more fucking time, we’re gonna need more body bags,” you snap. “Where. Did. She. Go.”

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Tag list (that I forgot I started): @evyiione @nyotamalfoy

[bangtanjjks]

there isn't a day in my life after I read acowar where I am not mad about the stupid death bargain between feysand (at least when the universe decided to remind me that it exists, like today. after I read about it again in a fic. it gave me flashbacks. bad ones)

..... is it romantic? YES. GODDAMN. IT'S SO FUCKING ROMANTIC!!!! YOU DIE I DIE??? SIGN ME THE FUCK UPPPPP!!!!!

BUT IT'S ALSO SO FUCKING STUPID IT HURTS ME TO THE CORE OF MY SOUL. like. like. Fey I could understand. she's 20. TWENTY. tf does she knows about leading a whole court of another species? she barely lives as a fae for one year. I won't be fooled into thinking she knows enough on how to basically run a country (hell, nesta probably knows more about running something since she's the first born daughter, mama Archeron probably taught her how to run the household, that's more than what fey would know.)

.

fey is 20 something, she just saw her mate dies in front of her, that's traumatizing. I get it. she wouldn't want to go through that again. emotions are thick so common sense would take a back seat in that situation. BUT RHYSAND???? 500+ YEARS OLD? who's probably been a high lord for more than half of it?? YOU'RE A LEADER BRO. YOU DON'T THINK TYING YOUR LIFE TO SOMEONE ELSE COULD BE CATASTROPHIC???? like.... did he not think of his court, of his people, the very same ones he wanted to protect so bad he'd become amarantha's whore, when making that bargain? what if one day both the high lord and high lady dies. THEN WHAT??? so baffling.

why is that bargain even written in the first place, what is its purpose for the plot progression? Sarah could've just write a hot and steamy feysand post-we-died-but-not-really-war sex and be done with it without the stupid bargain.

almost ruined the ship for me... and then SJM pulled the pregnancy bs. and that was that. that severed any love i had for canon feysand. I love Feyre. I love Rhys. but them together*? no thanks🙏🏼

and that is all. I just... I read a fic with this death bargain mentioned. and now I'm having flashbacks of being 19, stressed out of my mind for finals, and thinking I could find joy and relax when I finally had time to read acowar. only to find out about the bargain. and then acosf happened and..... I haven't touch any books SJM released ever since lmao. I was that betrayed😭

*in canon. I would still eat up any fanon feysand works like it's nobody's business. that's MY high lord and high lady!!!!

[talentforlying]

priest: i don't, ah, quite know what to say to you. if you are in such terrible danger, why are you taking it all so calmly? constantine: hmh! i dunno, father. i had a bloke beaten to a pulp earlier this evening. that sound calm to you? priest: you did what...? constantine: i must've been off me bleedin' rocker. i've never done anything like it before in me life, y'know?

constantine: but there's header gets his guts blown out, and george is stickin' his head in the noose, and helen gets ... jesus, then friggin' sarah bites me head off — ! everything's coming to bits in me hands and it's so easy to just see red and now, shit, they could've killed the tosser for all i know! and now i'm just like the bastards i've hated all me life! kill him! fire him! close them down! piss all over him! screw you, i can do whatever i want! i so much as blink and you're dead, pal! i'm in charge!! ...

constantine: 'scuse me, father. i'm always like this when i don't get me own way. — hellblazer #81, "rake at the gates of hell pt. 4"

babygirl you are just....so, sooooo offputting. (and grieving, and guilty, and terrified, but yeah: offputting.)

anyway, it's issues like this one that remind me why i kind of hesitate over some of the retcons in the recent spurrier runs, like the one with him now having opened dream's pouch of sand and stolen some before they even met. because like, it's easy enough to look at john constantine now — with 70 years of worst possible choices and unresolved trauma crystallizing underneath his skin to cover up all the soft, hopeful bits where he's used to getting hit — and assign him arbiter of ill intentions, magus of wasted potential, saint of shit choices, but man . . . he was new to this, once. he was still new to this 80 issues in.

80 issues in, and he's not used to losing friends yet; he even has time enough between catastrophes to grieve each individual one. still has enough left to live for at this stage to necessitate running and hiding, instead of bodily throwing himself at the problem like he learns to later, or sitting apathetically by to do nothing except smoke and watch the world fall apart when he finally gives up. fuck, he still apologizes.

and you're telling me this guy, this soppy wet cat motherfucker hiding from the devil in a church basement, so guilty over not knowing what happened to the guy that he paid people (paid chas, so chas could pay people) to attack that the bottle he's holding in this scene isn't even his second or third........this guy's past, more innocent self lied right to the face of DREAM OF THE ENDLESS and got away with it?

hm. i just don't know about all that.

[lost-inanotherlife]

Personally, I think Sawyer doesn't understand Jack either. At first, Sawyer did everything to bring out the worst in people on the island so he could feel better about himself and the things he'd done. He saw the worst in Jack, dismissing all the good in him. Kate, on the other hand, saw nothing but the good in Jack, practically putting him on a pedestal while completely disregarding his darker side.

The closest character to understanding Jack would be Juliet imo. She recognized both his heroic qualities and his morally corrupt tendencies, that's why she knew he returned to the island for himself, rather than to "save them". Maybe John did too, with the whole man of science, man of faith dynamic that intensified Jack's identity crisis.

Which brings me to the next point I'd like to discuss – how Jack's obsession wasn't really with his ex-wife, but with the identity of her new partner.

He kept asking her about him. It wasn't a 'you belong with me' kind of obsession (although it was just as disgusting ofc), he didn't care about the details of their separation, it was all about who he was not.

And I quote:

Christian: "It's over."

Jack: "Not until I know his name, where he works, where he lives, when they first kissed. I want to know what it is about him."

I really enjoyed reading your metas btw. I love Kate's character, and it was so frustrating watching her arc in the last couple of seasons bc the writers did her so dirty 😔

Hello again Anon! you're right, I need to rectify. I wrote that Sawyer was the one who better UNDERSTOOD Jack and that wasn't the right verb. In the previous ask we were talking about perception and that's different from understanding.

So what I meant was: Saywer is the one who clocks Jack's not-so-noble-or-very-hero-like side better than others. He's not the best con-man (hello Anthony Cooper) but he's good at his job: he could've conned his way around Jack as he demonstrates in the episode where he steals the guns with Charlie's help. He could do that but he very often chooses to go another way with Jack: he meets him in the middle.

To put it maybe a bit vulgarly: Sawyer knew that if he put out the ruler Jack would take off his pants to see which of the two wins. In other words, Sawyer sees a certain type of "boyhood" in Jack and sort of gives in a little power to him while he could totally con him and Jack would be none the wiser. Hence the ping-pong match and the poker game. Sports and games being considered a "safe" conduit to channel violence, anger and other negative emotions.

Does this mean that he understands Jack? Not really so you're right about that: he does see the worst in Jack though (or, better, not the worst per se but, as I said, a much realer side of him). However, I do stand by the above take on their relationship.

I think Juliet can be considered the chatacter that better understands him or gets very close to it and it would be fitting because I think she's Jack's mirror. Both are people of science, both were in unsatisfying marriages, both are considered good at their job but there's always some shadow over them in that regard (Burke for Juliet and Christian for Jack).

However, clearly Jack is an "ego" character while one of Juliet's defining traits is her love for her sister. She's ambitious too but the Others know her real deal and use her ambition as bait and her sister as leverage. The Others were very good at manipulating people LOL (as if it was a necessary thing to highlight LOL).

Which leads me to you point: yes, totally. Jack's a total douche to Sarah like 100% . This doesn't justify her cheating on him but I could totally understand her when she said that she wanted to move on and live while Jack was still stuck on fixing her.

Jack wanting to know "what it is about him (the other guy)"is exactly what I was talking about earlier with him and Sawyer: Jack gets confrontational with male figures who can threaten him or his "possessions" (ugh but see above: he was a dick to Sarah). Which of course can mean many things: is be sure about himself? does he have a good relationship with masculinity? is he honest with himself about his wants and needs?

Jack is an extremely volatile and emotional man: is this what Christian saw in him that made him say that he "doesn't have it"?

In two words: surprise! Jack's got daddy issues! LOL!

Thank you so much for reading my metas about Kate. I can't believe the writers had Kate Fucking Austen in their hands and decided to go That Way in s5 and s6. I don't get it. I mean, they were the ones who wrote incredible episodes such as "What Kate Did' or "Left Behind". Like, they did write Kate as compelling as she was. And for what?! Well as they would put it in Lost: whatever happened, happened. Maybe in another life, in another tv series...