#which she does about 1-3am

[simplyghosting]

My life is just me living day to day with one earbud out to listen for drama but no eyes open when I sleep because if it’s the good Lord’s time well then

[thesturniolos]

guilty pleasures (part 1 )

m. sturniolo x reader

authors note: this picture is actually sickening, need him too bad 🤞

this is all creds to my bae @iheartchrissturniolo thanks for the idea hun < 3 (part 2 including your idea yet to come)

summary: matt has a bit of a crush on his best friend, he’s fantasising ;)

warnings: smut, swearing !!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

she looked heavenly by the pool today, irresistible to the point where my heart ached. i knew i couldn’t have her, i’ve only been reminding myself everyday for the past 6 years and it’s agonising.

the way the droplets of water fell off her golden skin, the bikini that accentuated her curves, oh so perfectly. and knowing i chose it for her was like the cherry on top of the cake. blue- my favourite colour - and hell she knew it when she bought it, she even told me. “i wonder why you picked this one” i remember her slight giggle after she said it, voice like silk, one that plays in my head at night.

she drags her hand through her hair, shaking it a little to get rid of the water, and boy do i wish it was me doing that. for me to be the one to look after her, to do the small things that weren’t so small to me. her eyes are closed and even though she’s been in the water, her makeup remained flawless - not that she needed it, she was absolutely gorgeous with and without.

she didn’t think this however, always telling me how she wishes she looked like anybody else. if she could only see what i see, just for a second, she’d never think that again. she’s better than any supermodel, the ‘prettiest of girls’ according to society weren’t a touch on her. plus, they didn’t come with her personality- she’s a real life angel and i’ve been blessed with even being in her presence.

i would spend every minute and every hour of my day telling her every little thing i love about her from the colour of her nails to the shape of her lips, i don’t care about the dents in her thighs or the stretch marks on her stomach, she’s perfect.

she’s walking closer to me with an arm outstretched, my eyes landing on the matching tattoo she has with me and i smile. i sometimes forget we had that done, which almost instantly brings me back to reality that she is and always will just be my best friend. i cannot afford to lose someone as special as her which is why i have to push those feelings to the side, as much as we want to be free.

her being so close to me and looking at me with those eyes, dark eyes that could mean so many things, made my cheeks blush the slightest red and i become desperate to hide this. what kind of friend blushes like a crazed guy in love when they look at them? it’s just a look, god.

“you got a towel?” there was that voice again, a voice i wish was in my ear forever. it wasn’t high - pitched nor was it deep, it was just in the middle, soothing. reminds me of the times where she held me whilst i cried, the bestest friend there is. reminds me of when she was so utterly drunk and slurring over her words, what was it again?

 ╭┈┈┈┈╮

“matt” she prods at my arm, waking me up.

“wassup” she frowns looking at my tired state, moving her hand to push hair out of my eyes.

“i’ve got a secret” i frown now, it’s 3am goddamn.

“what’s that”

“you promise you won’t tell anyone?” those little doe eyes drive me crazy, keep looking at me like that and i’ll have an accident.

“i promise” she leans in closer to my ear, her hot breath on my skin.

“i had a dream about you the other day” now i’ve piped up. i don’t care about the time or the sleep in my eyes, she fucking dreamt about me, i’m wide awake.

“oh yeah? good or bad?”

“depends”

“what’d you mean, depends?” once again, driving me crazy. she just knows how to do it.

“well, it depends how you take it.”

“go on.” i’m begging for this now, i need to know what the fuck happened, it’s killing me.

“well, we were doing something,” she twirls my hair in her hand, not looking me in the eyes yet all i can focus on is her and her words. “something best friends don’t do.”

“like what?”

“fucking.”

╰┈┈┈┈╯

held a chokehold over me. every night when i got in to bed i imagined her sleepy self, squirming about in her sheets to the idea of me pounding into her. suddenly i didn’t feel so bad about the hundreds of wet dreams i’ve had ‘bout her, we’re even.

but it only made me more delusional that we could actually be something. she was drunk and it was a dream, i was being dramatic if i thought it was actually something.

“yeah, it’s just there.” i say, pointing to the floor. she bends down to pick it up and i get the best sight of her boobs, pressed against the fabric of her bikini, pushed together ever so slightly. they looked so smooth, so pretty. something i just couldn’t take my eyes off..

“hello? matt?” she swipes her hand in front of my face and i’m so utterly embarrassed, knowing i’d been fixated on her tits. what an assy thing to do, how do i even begin to explain something like that?

“i- uh- i’m sorry! i wasn’t-“ she smiles at me and reaches out to scruff my hair, once again her boobs being directly in my face. is she doing this on purpose? because i’m about to cum in my pants.

“i take it you just really like your choice of bikini, hm?” she laughs, moving the towel to rest it on her hip as she turns around and struts off towards our house. she fucking knows what she does, not just to me but everyone.

i’ve been ignoring the poking in my pants for a while but it’s more prominent then ever now and i need to do something about it or i’m gonna come undone right here right now. it might be pervy but i quite literally cannot be around her when she’s close to naked, my mind travels to the dirtiest of places and to be honest, i’m careless.

if she’s going to act so calm about riling me up like that, then i’m gonna embrace the way she makes me feel. how she makes my cheeks hot and the wet patch that forms in my boxers when she whispers in my ear or now, shoving her boobs in my face.

praying that my jeans cover my painfully obvious hard-on, i quickly walk into the house, making a bee line for my bedroom, desperate to do something about what was happening in my pants.

“you okay, matt?” shes looking at me with a frown, the towel in her hair now as she begins to dry it, still wearing that flattering bikini that is just about to tip me over the edge.

“mhm, i- um, just need to do something.” i look around to see if my brothers are anywhere to be seen, something to distract me from this conversation, i so desperately need to get to that bedroom.

“oh? why’d you look so flustered?” she says with a smug, little smile.

“no reason. i just- i just need a second.” i go to walk away. as much as i would love to stay and talk, right now that is not what i need.

“need my help?”

tags: @strniohoeee @sturnsbaby @sturniolopepsi @malsturns @mattslolita @mattitties @mattsbratt @mattsturniolos @mattsturniolosgf @chrisdevora @christinarowie332 @chrisolivia4l @ilovemattsturn @sturniolossmut @sturnioloswife @sturniolosstar @freshlovehacker @kirby0strombolli @recklesssturniolo @lovingmattysposts @oversturn @ilovemattsturn @urfavstromboli @estelleswrld @strawberrysturniolo @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @hoesformatt @justangelheree @klarasmith @kvtie444 @cabincorematt @caitifilms @bluesturniolo333 @mattsturnioloswattpad

[literaila]

can we get one of those scenarios where gojo does go to reader's dorm at 3am to go get sweets?

before you came to jujutsu high, you were a very patient person.

your temper was long, if anything. a stretchy sort of thing that was folded in the hands of people who didn’t deserve it.

it took a lot to get you worked up—some might even say that you were a people pleaser. if you had a certain… distaste for anyone or anything, well that was between you and your brain.

before you came to jujutsu high, that is.

because now it takes less than a knock on the door for your irritation to rise from your chest into your eyes. stress headaches have become a newfound acquaintance.

“what?” you hiss, opening your door to be met with—to no one’s surprise—a giddy grin and a sliver of eyes so bright it makes you want to puke.

so yeah. things have changed.

it wasn’t even one knock this time, though, but at least four different pounds, each one luring you even further into the cloud of homicidal thoughts.

at least no one will blame you in jail.

“is that how you answer your door?” satoru asks, leaning against the jam, so tall it hurts your soul.

“gojo,” you say, sweetening your rough, still-sleeping voice. “unless you’re here to tell me that someone’s dead, i’m going to break your nose.”

you didn’t used to be this violent, you swear. there’s just something about him—

satoru pinches your cheek fondly. “you’re such a joy to be around. even with your bed head.”

“did someone die?”

“yes,” satoru adjusts your shirt for you, kindness a silly thing he likes to wear occasionally. “my stomach. its rotting away.”

“good for you. goodnight.”

and you move to close the door, but satoru has always been faster than you. his foot is there, and you could break it, but you won’t.

god knows why.

“c’mon, sleeping beauty,” he whines, “i want bad ice cream.”

“then go get some.”

“i want company while i eat it.”

“don’t you have other friends or something? it’s..” you turn, blinking in the dark. “1:34 am.”

gojo grins. “snack time,” he says, simply.

you groan, missing when life was simple and no one talked to you unless you were making a mistake. “i’m tired. you woke me up, and i was having a good dream, too.”

“about me?”

“about something i don’t remember because,” you scowl at him, “you woke me up.”

“i didn’t want you to miss out.”

“if you keep smiling at me like that, i’ll—“

you stop, mostly because you don’t know what you’ll do.

“are you trying to sweet talk me? because it’s working.”

“no.”

gojo laughs. “get dressed. unless you want to wear your… care bear’s shirt.”

“go with geto,” you say, trying to shut the door again. it only succeeds in making satoru flinch just briefly.

which is enough to feed the vicious animal in your head.

“he’s just not as cute as you, though.”

you scoff. “stop trying to manipulate me.”

“but it always works so well.”

and is he wrong?

…no. but who can blame you for falling victim to his whims? satoru has spent his entire life being waited on, being given every little thing he could possibly want.

and he seems to want you.

it’s such a unique, bewildering feeling that you have to follow through. you can’t let something like affection go to waste.

the girl you were a year ago would scream for this very moment. she would be at satoru’s door, hugging his leg like a child.

(and if he’s a little bit… okay to look at. well. at least there’s one plus to this arrangement).

“i’ll even wait for you to get dressed,” satoru says like it’s a generous offer. “can’t you hear the ice cream calling?”

and then he leans in, eyes peering into yours over his ridiculous shades.

his hair is a bit messier than usual this late, his mouth a terrifying pink.

some small part of you wants to desperately to lean a little bit closer. to push this even further. so what if you need more convincing? so what if he owes you something?

so what if you can’t say no to him?

it has nothing to do with the itchy feeling in your chest, or the giddy fog in your brain.

(god, satoru makes you feel… something else. different than a human, but nothing more than a prize. he makes you feel like you are something other—like you’ve been the problem this entire time—but in a good way.

satoru sees you as something to behold.

you’re the god of this small thing.

and it’s wonderful. its infuriating and painful, and still you’d rather die than attempt to let it go.)

so what?

“fine,” you almost gasp. “but you’re buying.”

gojo clasps his hands together in satisfaction. “we’ll see,” he sings.

“ten minutes,” you tell him, trying to shut the door.

“five,” he whispers back, so sweetly.

and then satoru flashes his teeth at you, so different from anything else.

your responding nod is just unconscious at this point.

[whore-era]

1-800-GIRLS - part 2

☁︎ modern!ellie x sex-hotline-operator!fem!reader, very small mention of dealer!ellie ☁︎ summary: in which ellie takes her favorite phone sex hotline operator out on their first date! ☁︎ warnings: contains smut! 18+ only. top/dom!ellie, bottom/sub!reader, interactions with men, dirty talking/praise, fingering (r!recieving), use of fem nicknames, slight mention of petplay, let me know if i missed anything else pls. ☁︎ a/n: back by popular demand, and to thank you all for 1k. i love u all from the bottom of my heart. thank u all so so so much. also there will be NO PART 3! s/o to my girl @clearheartgreyflowers for staying up w me til 3am writing smut LMAO ☁︎ word count: 5,124 ☁︎ 1-800-GIRLS part 1

thursday, 1:15am → ongoing call with sir steven (ft. lauderdale, FL)

sir steven (client): thank you, sugar. did good as always, pretty lady.

sugar: no problem, sir.

sir steven (client): have a good night, darlin'. good night.

the line clicks on the other end, and you finally let out a big stretch, able to relax as you close the hotline for the night. you made 13 calls tonight, which usually wouldn't be enough to help with bills, but much to your dismay, ellie had been sending you money nonstop.

it's been a couple of weeks since you first met her in the library, and since then, you've seen each other here and there, most of your communication being made through texts and calls, as you both have been extremely busy with final exams and work. barely getting any real time to spend together besides having lunch together or walking to class when the time allows it.

however, ever since you revealed to ellie your real name and gave her your personal phone number, she's been using it to her advantage — sending you money through applepay/paypal, paying for food to get delivered to your apartment when you tell her you haven't ate that day, or getting uber's or taxis to pick you up when she wasn't able to come get you herself.

she was very persistent in being your provider, insisting that with her income, she could support you full-time and buy you everything you needed and more.

but you didn't have it in you to just quit this hotline gig. you didn't want to feel like you had to rely on ellie, and the last thing you wanted was to burden her with your own issues.

thursday, 1:30am → incoming call from ellie (jackson, WY)

you: ellie...?

ellie: hi baby.

you: why are you calling the hotline? you have my number, silly.

ellie: what? can't check in on my girl?

you couldn't help the flush in your cheeks. ellie never failed to make you blush. she always made a point to flirt, hard, and you both weren't even in a relationship, yet.

you: what can i do for my favorite client?

ellie: hm, how does going out with me on saturday night sound?

you: like...a date?

ellie: yeah, don't you think we're a bit overdue for one?

you: sure! what should i wear?

ellie: 's up to you. you make anything look beautiful.

you hated how easily she made the heat rise to your cheeks.

ellie: are you blushing?

you: ....no.

ellie: liar. just for that, you owe me a kiss on our date.

you: hm, we'll see.

ellie: guess we will.

-

saturday couldn't have arrived any faster, and by the time you knew it, it was 6:00 in the evening, almost time for your first date with ellie.

you couldn't make up your mind on what to wear, trying on different outfit combinations, determining which one you think ellie would like more.

groaning in frustration, you seemingly settled on a baby blue dress, with a light and warm cardigan. the weather was absolutely perfect for this type of outfit, not too hot with just the slightest breeze.

as you touched up your makeup, swiping on your favorite gloss, you couldn't seem to calm the nerves boiling in your belly. what was there to be nervous about? you were going on a date with one of the coolest and prettiest girls you have ever seen in your life.

overthinking every possible worst-case scenario that could happen tonight, you took some deep breaths, shaking off the images of you possibly falling on your face, snorting while you laugh, or accidentally passing gas in front of ellie. oh god, if that were to happen tonight, you didn't think you could ever face her again.

you would have to change jobs. and schools.

"god, jesus, whoever, please have my back tonight," you whisper to yourself, suddenly jumping at the small 'ping' coming from your phone.

unlocking your phone, you see it's a text from ellie:

ellie <3: I'm on my way up baby, u ready?

you: yes! i'm ready hehe

you take the time to lace your shoes at the front door, giving yourself a quick one-over in the mirror to see if you were presentable, at the least.

two soft knocks on the door resonated through your apartment, and you took a deep breath as you unlocked the latch, mentally preparing yourself for tonight.

swinging the door open, you're greeted by the tall, emerald-eyed girl.

"hey, baby," she greets, leaning over to plant a kiss on your cheek, "you look gorgeous."

your eyes fell to the ground, cheeks flushing with crimson. get ahold of yourself. you're acting like a teenage girl with a puppy-love crush, you echoed in your mind.

"thanks, els. you look pretty cute too," you compliment shyly, looking down at her fit — a white shirt complimented with a red flannel and dark-washed jeans. of course, hair styled in her signature half-up ponytail and sporting her white and black converse sneakers.

"ready to go?"

"yeah, let's go ahead."

"cool, just parked over here in the parking lot."

taking hold of your hand, the two of you head out to the parking lot, and she takes the lead in guiding you to her car. her hands felt warm and clammy— and you wondered if ellie was feeling just as nervous as you were.

and she was.

ellie was freaking the fuck out. from the outside, you appeared calm and relaxed, which put her at unease. were you not excited to be going out with her? were you going to like what she planned for tonight? what if you absolutely hated the date she organized? it'd tear ellie's heart to pieces.

but ellie couldn't overthink, especially not right now. she couldn't let her emotions get the best of her, and she only had to think of the present — you.

ellie fished out her keys from her pocket, briefly letting go of your hand to unlock the car and open the passenger side door for you.

getting inside, you mumbled a quick 'thank you'. as ellie scurried to the driver's side of the car, you scanned your eyes around the interior of her car.

what the hell? was she driving a...dodge hellcat? you knew ellie drove, but you didn't know she drove such an expensive muscle car. how much money did she make being a dealer?

her car smelled just like her, fresh and musky, and she kept it fairly clean.

ellie piled in the driver's seat of her car, putting the key in the ignition and turned on the engine.

"soooo, where are we going?" you queried.

"that's a surprise," ellie smirks, and suddenly she places her hand behind the head of your seat, turning her neck to look at the rear windshield as she backed out of the parking spot.

you swallowed thickly, focused primarily on how hot she looked doing something as simple and elementary as reversing her car. the way her neck flexed, the way her arm tattoo looked by your face, and the way she was concentrated on moving the vehicle — suddenly turned the heat up in this confined space.

"you okay? you look a bit warm," ellie asks, interrupting your train of thought.

"huh? yeah, no, i-i'm okay," you smile meekly, "it's j-just a little warm in here."

"oh, sorry," her hands went to turn on the air conditioning, the gentle breeze of cool air providing relief, "there you go. better?"

you nod, "much better, thanks."

"wanna play some music?" she asks, holding her phone up.

"hmm, you can put whatever you want on. i wanna see what type of music you're into."

"okay," ellie says with a wide smile, "suit yourself."

approaching a stop light, ellie uses the window of opportunity to tap away on her phone, searching for her favorite song. the song 'the spins' by mac miller plays throughout the car at a mellow volume.

"great taste. i love this song," you chime.

"yeah? me too," ellie states, "i loved mac miller since like, forever."

eyes gravitating towards ellie, you couldn't help but get lost in a daze at the way she drives, the slight spread in her legs, one hand on the wheel, the stray strand of hair that falls in her face — she was dangerous.

and ellie could feel the burning gaze you were searing on the side of her face, "you okay there?"

"hmm?"

"you keep staring at me."

"oh— uh— i'm sorry. i didn't mean to—" you sputtered, ashamed that you'd been caught red-handed.

"it's fine, baby, no worries. just wanted to know if there was anything on your mind was all," ellie briefly tears her eyes away from the road to check on you.

you had to quickly think of an excuse, something to save you from this embarrassment — "just thinking of where we're going."

the girl chuckles, "well, we're already here."

the neon lights were the first thing that caught your attention, then the rapidly moving contraptions, and lastly the laughter from the crowds of people.

"we're at the carnival?!" you squealed, unable to contain your excitement.

"yea," ellie muttered sheepishly, "uh— i saw on your instagram how you shared the posts about wanting to go on your story, so i-"

you cut her off with a forceful hug, "oh my god! ellie! we have to get out now! let's go, let's go, let's go!!"

"alright, baby, let me put the car in park-" she began, but you were already halfway down the entrance.

-

"wow! ellie! that one was so fun! it was exhilarating!" you breathed out, fueled by the rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins after riding the 'slingshot' rollercoaster.

ellie couldn't be any more amused, smiling down at you, "yeah? you liked that one, babe?"

"yes! i loved it!" you squealed, but as the adrenaline wavered, you began to feel that familiar rumble in your stomach, "it did give me an appetite, though."

"wanna get a little something to eat?" ellie's hand is securely interlaced with yours, guiding you towards the various food stands.

you nod, "mhm, i am starved."

"just tell me what you want, and i'll get it for you, m'kay?" she gives you a smile and squeezes your hand as your eyes scan the numerous items to choose from.

corndogs. cotton candy. kettle corn. pretzels. chilli cheese hot dogs. funnel cake.

"hmmm, i think i want some funnel cake," you suggest, "we can share it."

"sounds good to me," ellie shrugs and you both fall in line. she orders and pays for the sweet treat and the worker hands her the food, as you find a vacant picnic table to sit at.

digging into the crispy, creamy treat, you couldn't hold back the moan of delight that came from your mouth.

"oh my god! this is amazing!" you moan, whip cream getting all over your lips.

ellie was too busy hyper-fixating on the cream that sat on your lip, and before thinking about anything else, she swiped it off your bottom lip with the pad of her thumb, bringing it to her lips and sucking it clean.

"mmm, delicious," she commented, then consumed the dessert as if nothing had happened.

leaving you stunned, you gulped the cup of water she gave you, attempting to soothe the heat seeping down below.

"so, which ride do you wanna get on next?" ellie spooned more of the funnel cake in her mouth, looking up at you, awaiting your response.

"not sure, why don't you choose? i picked the last one after all," you clean your spoon off, getting every last bit of leftover ice cream.

"we can ride theeee..." ellie scours the carnival rides, "...the haunted hospital."

your heart fell to your stomach, you hated anything related to horror.

"oh no..ellie, i don't think i'll be able to ride that—"

"are you scared?" she taunts in a playful tone.

"yes. i'd be covering my eyes the entire time, el."

"good thing you have me with you, i'll fight anyone who gets too close to you. promise."

"fine."

when you both finish the funnel cake, you quickly discard it and ellie rushes you over to the line to the haunted attraction, but as the line goes by quicker than you anticipated, the fear began to set in deeper and deeper.

"ellie, i'm scared," you whisper as you both approach the front of the line, watching the people in front of you climb into the little mechanical car and disappear into the darkness.

"hey, i'm here, baby," she coos, rubbing your back, "besides, it's all fake, okay? 's not real."

and on cue, the attendant calls you both up, "next!"

walking slowly towards the black cart, you get on first and take a seat, with ellie following closely behind you.

"alright, hands up," the attendant commands as the handlebars latch down and lock onto your lap, "keep your hands and feet in the cart at all times. have fun."

as the cart begins to move forward and ascend into blackness, you curl into ellie's body and her arm instinctively wraps around your body, holding you tight.

this is exactly where ellie wanted you, up close and personal. she wanted an excuse to hold you all night, and after seeing the 'haunted hospital' sign, she knew this ride was the perfect place to do that.

your heart was pumping in and out of your chest, preparing for the worse to pop out and jump-scare you.

"ugh, i can't look," you stammer, covering your eyes. ellie takes hold of your wrists, gently taking them away from your face.

"hey, just focus on me, okay?" ellie whispers, her hot breath fanning in your face, "it's just me and you."

"o-okay."

and the fear that took habitat in your belly faded away, your mind zeroed in on ellie and how close she was to you. if you even breathed too hard, you probably would’ve accidentally kissed her.

but luckily for you, ellie was five steps ahead.

she reached her hand out to cup your cheek, resting it on the soft, warm skin of your face.

"can i kiss you?" ellie asked, her mouth taking over her brain, but she didn't mind it. she wanted to kiss you. she's been wanting to kiss you ever since she heard your voice that night she accidentally called you.

“please. please, kiss me.”

leaning in, ellie pressed her lips on yours, her other hand snaking around your waist, pulling you in closer. her lips were soft and inviting, and they tasted sweet — they were definitely a good distraction from the horror props popping out at different intervals. 

her lips leave subtle pecks along your lips, enamored by how your lips tasted, and how it left her wanting more. 

ellie pulls away, inciting a small whimper from you, “the ride’s about to end, babe.” 

“hmph, okay,” you pout and ellie pecks your lips again.

“we’ll have plenty of time to continue later,” she reassures you with a laugh. as the both of you emerge into the light, back to the entrance of the attraction, you notice your lipgloss smeared all over her lips, eliciting a small giggle from you.

“what’s so funny?” 

you point to her lips, and her eyes dart down to her face, using her sleeves to wipe off the pink gloss from her mouth as you both get off the ride. 

you smile sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you both stroll around the carnival, “sorry, that was my fault.”

ellie smiles and shakes her head, “don’t worry ‘bout it,” she says coolly, “hey, let’s go over there. there’s no line.” 

pointing to an attraction behind you, you turn around and follow her trail, your eyes settling on the ferris wheel.

hand in hand, you both get on the little capsule of the ferris wheel, the employee holding it sturdy so you and ellie would have time to climb in. 

they latched the door closed and you both begin the slow, upward descent. 

“wow, the view is beautiful,” you breathe out, astounded by how pretty the lights looked in the city as you towered over the area below. 

“yeah, the view certainly is beautiful, huh?” ellie murmured, but she wasn’t staring at the view. her eyes were on you, taking in how breathtaking you looked in this moment — eyes glimmering in amusement, perfect, plump lips slightly parted, and hair a bit messy from the breeze, but framing your face in all the right places. she took her phone out, snapping a quick picture, never wanting to forget this moment. 

she moved seats, before, sitting on the bench facing you, and now sitting right beside you. 

“uh, there’s something i have to tell you,” ellie began, her nerves shocking every cell in her body.

“yea? what is it?” you ask, turning to face her, “is everything okay?”

“yeah, yeah, i just—” ellie bit her lip nervously, “i just really like you. like, i think about you all the time. when i first heard your voice that night i dialed you, i just knew i had to talk to you again. there’s just something about you that always brings me back and— fuck, i never thought i’d find myself catching feelings so hard for a girl before.” 

your cheeks were hurting from how wide your smile was, but you didn’t care. ellie put her arm around your shoulder and held your hand with her free one, leaning in closer.

“what i’m trying to say is that— i really, really want to be with you. i want to be the one who you tell the weird stories about your clients to and i want to be the one to take care of you after a long day at class. i want to be the one who protects you and who you share your favorite meal with. i just— i really want you to be my girlfriend,” and before ellie continues any further, you cut her off with a kiss.

“if this is your way of asking me to be your girlfriend, the answer is yes, ellie williams,” you answer, briefly pulling away for air. 

ellie’s smile grows wider, “cool,” she quirks before connecting your lips again. 

- 

the sun was long gone and the moon had taken over the night sky. but your date with ellie was far from over. 

after spending an evening filled with thrill rides and greasy, fried snacks, you and ellie both decided to calm things down by taking a walk along the boardwalk, occasionally strolling up and down the pier.

“would you say this has been a good date so far?” ellie’s eyes flitter toward you, her arm slung over your shoulder as you stride down the various closed stores and restaurants of the boardwalk. it was empty, only one or two people passing by, but other than that it was only you two. 

“mmm, i’d give it a…six out of ten,” you tease, gaining a scoff from your new girlfriend. 

“a six? seriously?” she shakes her head, “damn, not the response i was hoping for.” 

“i’m just kidding, els,” you giggle, “this date has been amazing. i loved every bit of it. thank you.”

you lean over and press a small kiss on her cheek, watching how the vermilion scatters across her freckles.

“now that’s more like it.” ellie laughs, continuing the promenade forward, with no destination in mind.

your eyes settle on this small, old-fashioned photo booth tucked away in a corner of the boardwalk. the sign above it flashing ‘PHOTOS: 4 different poses’. it was the perfect idea to end the night and have a little souvenir to remember your first date.

you let go of her hand, dashing towards the photo booth, ellie confusedly following after you. you open your bag, searching for some change, and you insert four quarters into the small coin slot. 

“let's go inside,” you enthuse, excited to try out the photo booth.

ellie went inside first, taking a seat on the extremely small bench, barely leaving any space for you to sit beside her. the booth was such a tight enclosure, only allowing enough space for a maximum of two people. 

“i— uh— don’t know where to—” you stammer, but she interrupts you as she grabs your hips, sitting you down on her right thigh.

warmth rose to your face, feeling secure and sturdy sat upon her leg. ellie closed the black curtain, covering the entrance and blocking any light that would shine through. 

“okay, we have three minutes and four poses,” you say, turning your neck to look down at her, “what should our poses be?”

“i dunno, i’m sure we’ll look great doing any. we can jus’ do them as we go along,” ellie shrugged, and the photo booth began to count down from five.

sitting up straight in her lap and fixing your hair, you and ellie put on a smile, and the light flashes white, signaling the end of the first pose.

for the second pose, you turn your head and plant your lips on ellie’s cheek as ellie scrunches her nose up, and the flash lights up for a second time.

for the third pose, you loop your arm over ellie’s shoulder, and you both look each other in with adoring eyes and loving smiles — flash.

you both couldn’t even bother getting ready for the final pose, too lost in each other’s admiring gazes to think properly. you were focused on the jade green of ellie’s eyes, wishing you could jump in and swim in the pools of emerald. ellie was hooked on your face, and memorizing every detail like her life depended on it — tracing her eyes over your pouty lips. 

and as the countdown went to one, ellie smashed her lips onto yours, her arms tightening around your waist to pull you closer. this kiss was different from the ones from before — there was urgency, there was eagerness, there was a burning passion, one you’ve never experienced before. 

her tongue shoves into your mouth, tasting the mint you’ve chewed previously. immodest and perhaps, pornographic wet sounds from your mouths resonate throughout the small photobooth. one of her hands trail from your hips towards your tits, groping the soft, pillowy flesh underneath your baby blue dress, eliciting the faintest of whimpers — a sound ellie has been dying to hear again.

you couldn’t help the arousal building up in your core, compelling you to grind your crotch against the denim fabric of her jeans. 

“e-ellie, i— i’ve never—” you struggle to let out, pulling away from her lips, a trail of spit lingering on your bottom lip, and her lips plant sloppy, wet kisses along the side of your neck. 

“we can stop if you want, sweet girl,” she murmurs against your skin, and you quickly shake your head.

“n-no, don’t stop, p-please,” you gulp and with your approval, ellie’s other hand goes down to hike your dress up, bunching the fabric up around your waist. her hands push your legs apart, and she lifts one of your thighs up to rest on the wall of the photo booth. you were exposed, the only thing concealing your bare, pussy was the thin fabric of your panties.

she sat back against the corner of the booth, leaning against the wall and allowing you space to lean against her body as well. her hand cupped your panty-covered crotch, rubbing against it.

the sudden friction made you jolt, your breath picking up, “b-but what if— what if someone hears us? or—or sees us?”

“then you better keep it down, pup.”

ellie’s hand slips inside your panties, her index finger sliding between the warmth of your folds, drowning in the wet, hot juices leaking out from you, “fuck.”

you let out a pitiful whine, needing more pressure, craving satisfaction. the nights after that call with ellie, your own fingers no longer sufficed the needs your body demanded. you tried so hard to replicate the same feeling ellie gave you that late evening, but there was no avail as you realized the only person who can truly serve your body correctly was ellie. 

“p-please, more,” you begged, hoping she would show you mercy and give you what you wanted.

“please, what? huh? use your fuckin’ manners,” she snides in your ear, breath fanning against your neck. you immediately knew what she was inferring.

“please, daddy, please. i want more,” you bucked your hips up to her hands, and she happily obliged. two of ellie’s fingers made their way to your throbbing and swollen clit, applying pressure as her digits created circles. 

you couldn’t suppress the moan that emerged from your throat, clamping a hand shut over your mouth, careful not to alert any strangers nearby, knowing people would still be able to hear despite the thin, black curtain covering the photo booth.

“you look s’ fuckin’ pretty,” ellie whispers against your neck, and her hand grabs your jaw, turning your head to look at her as she smushes her lips against your swollen, red lips. 

a stream of melodious moans vibrated against ellie’s mouth, and she was drinking it in, savoring the sound of you against her lips. the way ellie’s tongue fucked your mouth felt ungodly, and almost immoral. someone who harbors the power to make you feel how you do is something close to the devil, as pleasure this wonderful was sinful.

her fingers disappear from your clit, leaving you feeling empty. 

“open.” ellie orders and you part your lips. she pushes her fingers in your mouth, and you suck them clean, your tongue lapping the salty juices like a puppy desperate for water on a hot day.

“such a good fuckin’ girl, shiiit,” ellie praises, slipping her fingers in your pussy, continuing the circles on your hardened clit.

“you know what good girls like you get? huh?” ellie’s fingers pick up speed, “they get to cum. you wanna cum for daddy, baby?”

unable to think of any response, you nod your head up and down. 

“use your words, pup.”

“yes, daddy. puppy wants to cum,” you whine out. that was enough for ellie to give you what you wanted. one hand rubbing circles your clit, her other hand pushes your panties to the side and inserts one finger in your leaking hole, gently sliding it in and out.

“ellie!” you cry out, astounded by the added pressure. her finger was long and filled you up almost, completely. 

“gotta stretch you out, baby. get you ready for my cock,” ellie smirks as she slowly adds in another finger, still maintaining her slow, neutral pace. 

your pussy clenches around her fingers, and you scrambled around to grab ahold of anything you can get your hands on. you were drunk on ellie, the way she talks to you — almost condescending — combined with how she had you writhing under her fingers. you were unequivocally hers. you were ellie’s.

she added a third finger to your clit, applying more pressure on your sensitive clit, and her fingers began to pump faster inside your pussy, coating it in a thick, creamy layer of your juices.

“god, you’re such a pretty fuckin’ girl,” ellie kisses the side of your neck, “look at you, making a mess all over my hands, like a filthy pup.”

all your mouth would utter was these weak, pathetic whimpers and moans, fucked out dumb and stupid. you don’t even think you could remember your name right now. 

the familiar feeling of your orgasm coming undone begins to rise, accompanied by a new pressure you feel in your abdomen — the urge to push. 

“daddy, think m’ gonna— p—pee,” you stammer, not wanting to embarrass yourself and closing your legs, “it feels like i have to—”

“baby, let it happen. promise it’s not piss or anything,” ellie reassured, figuring this was your first time squirting. “just let go, sweet girl.”

the sweet sounds of your wet pussy echoed throughout the confined spaces of the booth, just how ellie liked it. it was music to her ears. 

the feeling of your walls tightening around her fingers told her that you were just right on the edge, and she was going to give you that push to fall over and come undone all over her hands.

the pad of ellie’s fingers massaged figure eights on your pussy, almost tracing infinity signs on your clit. her fingers found rhythm and continued thrusting her index and middle fingers inside you, curling up to rub the flesh of your walls, hitting just the right spot and emitting an angelic moan from you. 

ellie was in heaven and she had this honey-sweet angel melting under her touch. 

you squirmed in her lap, your back instinctively arching, about to come apart in this small photo booth.

“daddy, i’m about to— can i? can i cum? pretty please?” you cried out, almost pleading, like you were begging for your life, but you felt like you were going to simply die if you didn’t finish right now. 

“yes, pretty baby, cum all over me,” ellie coaxes you through your orgasm, “make a fuckin’ mess, puppy.”

you came undone, falling apart right there. your pussy clamped around her fingers, a stream of milky-white cream trickling onto her hands. your body overcame your thoughts, and you pushed out — releasing a gush of watery, squirt all over the place. spurting out, imitating a fountain.

ellie pulled her hands out of you, and brought them to her mouth, sucking and licking them clean. still coming down from the high that was your orgasm, your breaths came out heavy and unlabored, a tear falling down out of the corner of your eye and streaming down your cheek. 

“you alright, babe?” ellie asked, fixing your panties and pulling your dress down.

“y-yea, i’m okay,” you stutter, standing up and exiting the photo booth, finding the boardwalk still deserted. legs still shaking, you trip over your own feet and lean on the walls of the booth for support. ellie took hold of your waist, ensuring you don’t fall.

“hey, look, our picture,” she points out, taking the strip out from the slot and showing the black and white photo to you. 

ellie smiles at the strip, “we look good, huh?”

you nod, still simmering down. ellie takes notice of your state and plants a kiss to your lips, rubbing your waist soothingly. 

“how ‘bout we get outta here and get some real food? sound good, baby?”

you nod, smiling, “sounds perfect.”

🫶🏼

[macfrog]

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

----------

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[hedgehog-moss]

I was woken up last night by a sound like a machine gun being fired... loud clak-clak-clak that went on for like 10 seconds and I sat in bed completely bewildered because my brain couldn't come up with a plausible explanation for it. Then I remembered about the thunderstorm warning and thought oh shit, the greenhouse. It could possibly be the sound of thick glass cracking and breaking after a branch fell on it...?

I ran outside in my pyjamas and found the greenhouse intact—then thought oh shit, the chicken coop. Had no idea how a chicken coop could produce such a noise but I ran there anyway, and the coop was fine. It was a dry storm, lots and lots of wind but no rain or hail and I stood there uselessly for a moment, trying to think of other explanations with my 3am brain (not easy), then went to check on the llamas just in case, and I found all three of them standing with very alert ears, staring at a fallen tree—one of the four very tall wild cherries in their pasture.

So that was a relief ! From where I was I couldn't see if the tree had crashed on the fence and destroyed a chunk of it, it seemed possible but I decided that was a problem for tomorrow-me, and in any case it could have been worse. The fact that Pampe was still here boded well (for the integrity of the fence)—but seeing as the llamas were lined up in front of the tree like mourners paying their respects at a funeral, maybe she just felt that taking advantage of the tree's misfortune to immediately escape via the opening created by its prostrate body would be inappropriate.

First thing I saw this morning when I opened my bedroom window was the fallen tree, and I started feeling less optimistic because from afar things really didn't look promising for my poor fence.

(And from up close either)

But the tree missed the fence by just a few metres!

Its branches were tangled up with the other trees' branches and I think some of them slowed its fall until they broke one by one, which would explain the prolonged cracking noises, it wasn't just the trunk. But only 1 branch fell on the fence and it wasn't a large one, so there's no damage!

The God of Fences was on my side last night. :)

Consulted on whether he had been frightened by that loud sinister noise in the middle of the night, Pirlouit declined to comment, as he has more tragic problems right now. Our neighbour made hay recently which means Pirou now has several tonnes of hay staring at him and taunting him just outside his pen, out of reach. He is in a bad mood for reasons that have nothing to do with a stupid tree. It's like if you had to live right outside a pastry shop's window, except worse because you're a donkey (they already find life unfair as it is.)

I wonder if the wild cherry tree will soldier on...? Its roots + part of the trunk are still intact, and there are fallen trees in the forest with only 1 toe still in the ground who take their fate pretty philosophically and just start growing perpendicularly, like okay I guess we're sending our branches in that direction now. I'm going to leave it here and see if it rallies. I think it actually looks pretty breezy right now, it kind of looks like this:

Good luck, wild cherry! Let's see if you still have some life in you...

Oh and since we had a new obstacle, I tried to check if Pandolf remembered the word "Saute !" (Jump) and he does! We did it a bunch of times because I was trying to make him understand that I wanted 1 majestic jump and not his lazy 2-steps solution, but I didn't manage to explain it.

Maybe if I said "no :/" instead of "good great what a dog!!" he would think harder about how to improve his technique, but I'd rather fluff up his ego. Even that ridiculous failure at the end was met with a "yes amazing!!" response from me and he felt like an agility champion instead of a bumbling bag of fur. I'm going to try and get him to find his balance and walk on this part of the trunk, so I expect to see a lot more of his "argh, oops, wait" facial expression :)

[chiara-hotel]

Camping with them!

Characters: Kafka, Blade, Silver Wolf & SAM Spoilers: Spoilers for SAMs identity + 2.0 questline (penacony) This is also a remake of some old headcannons I had to include Firefly!

——————————————————————————

Synopsis: The current mission you guys are on requires an overnight stay. Kafka finds a nice location by a lake for you all to camp. What's it kind camping with them?

- Kafka starts the night off by cooking dinner for the 4 of you, depending on your diet she’ll cook whatever anyone wants. Of course that also requires setting up the table you guys brought & finding ingredients either in the car or in the wild. Even if you are missing a bit of meat Kafka wouldn’t mind going hunting for a snack anyway.

- After the campfire is put up Kafka tells lots of scary stories, hoping you’ll get scared later in the night. Silver Wolf gets scared by stone of them and blade doesn’t get scared at all. Kafka loves making smores though!

- During the nighttime, shes sleeping peacefully in her solo tent, not a single sound to be heard. She might get up around 3am just to talk a walk, if you’re awake Kafka will gladly invite you to join her.

- Blade is the main helper of the group! Helping Kafka setup the campsite and any dinner materials. He does offer to hunt some animals if needed

- After that, Blade wanders into his own world, usually just resting or thinking about the mission. Although he wouldn't mind if you and firefly went to bother him to ask to play some games with him-to which he'd gladly join.

- While sitting down at the campfire he also remains silent & only tells one scary story after you and Kafka forced him too, Blade doesn’t want make any smores but with enough convincing he'll make a few for you guys to eat

- Out if everyone he goes to sleep the earliest. Depending on how close you are with him you guys might share a tent or not, but make sure you don’t wake him up as you enter later on.

- Silver doesn’t have anything to do while Kafka makes dinner-mainly just playing games on her tablet. After dinner she gets the campfire ready along with firefly for smores & scary stories. During the night she also manages to make the most amount of snores.

- At night she’s staying up until 3-4 playing video games. If you’re up and can’t sleep she’ll invite you to play along aswell. At 4 she decides she does need at least some hours of sleep since it’s also a very early start for tomorrows mission.

- Firefly helps Kafka and blade with preparing dinner, especially with lighting/cooking anything up. Fire powers come in handy! But other than that she would play some games with you or go on a walk with you.

- Later on she helps Silver Wolf get the smores together and fights up the campfire. Out of everyone she ate the most smores (and Blade ended up giving her a lot of his since she liked them)

- Sleeping in her tent is like having the best sleepover! Tons of snacks, playing games & watching a lot of fun movies. Until it reaches midnight or maybe 1 am if you're lucky, then she insists you need your sleep for tomorrows early mission!

[i-bring-crack]

Modern AU of Aventurine yapping to Acheron about life & love problems and Acheron just being like "Damnnnnn.... bro... That sucks...." And maybe adding a few pointers here and there (that SOMEHOW always seem to be genuinely great advice) before completely forgetting his sermons the next week.

She doesn't mind his talks really, he's like one of the few people that come to talk to her at 3am (She has a night shift). The only one actually but still— And Aventurine has so few options to relieve his stress so he comes to ice cream away his problems with Acheron, heck he can even repeat it his insecurities as many times as he wishes witout someone using it for blackmail! Yipee!

[Black Swan also gossips to her, which she does her best to remember but unless she has a notebook at hand she is going to forget in 1 to 8 hours from then on.]

Aventurine dripping wet as a cat on Acheron's door: Girl you won't believe the bullshit I just pulled.

Acheron with a chocolate milk on hand: Girl what bullshit did you just pull.

-

Aventurine talking about Ratio for the next 4 hours: He doesn't get it! I'm trying to flirt with him so hard but he doesn't get it!

Acheron on her third bowl of cereal: Have you tried*trying to remember any romantic movies she watched with Black Swan only for her to remember those old thrilller movies from the 50s* .... Guns—

-

Aventurine collapsing on the floor: You think Diamond will finally fire me if I just dig myself into the ground?

Acheron texting Black Swan, half her attention to Aventurine: Diamonds come from the ground.... I think.

Aventurine: I think?!

Acheron: Im not sure...

[emmitaaa4]

Azriel, you beautiful, complex man.

Anyone else ever lay awake at night thinking that it’s not that Azriel wants a mate, any mate: it’s that he believes only a mate—only someone who was meant to love him—could love him ?

Do you ever think about the fact that Azriel’s visceral response to Elain looking up at him with trust & hope, was to believe that there was no possible way she could ever look at him that way if she knew the things he’d done and been forced to do? If she knew that his scarred hands mirrored his marred soul? Yet we know Elain has never balked from him and has only ever seen beauty in his scars; in who he is.

Do you ever think about the way Azriel feels this need to prove himself useful—which is why he so clings to his titles and his job—for if he is needed, he cannot be abandoned?

Do you ever want to shout from the rooftops that Azriel is so much more than this « darkness » he cloaks himself in, and that he doesnt need someone to heal him & « handle his darkness ». Healing, for Az, does not mean fighting & ‘killing’ his demons, it means being at peace with himself & learning to live with them without needing to mask who he is. He needs to begin to believe that there is darkness and light in him to love.

Does your heart ever squeeze when you understand that allowing yourself to be loved, first means bearing yourself to another & willingly risking being hurt ? It requires an unparalleled level of emotional vulnerability from him. You ever realize that Az uses his shadows as an emotional crutch, that he so carefully masks his expressions, yet it takes but a look for Elain to read him? He, who finds his strength & perseverance in hope, found his match in her gentle, hopeful heart—and he physically has to keep himself apart from her, only allowing himself to act upon his feelings when she made the first move. Entitlement where?

Truly, how has the fandom decided that Azriel, who follows the sound of Elain’s laugh, who listened to her when no one else would & didnt let her be misunderstood, who trusted her with TT so she could protect herself & those she loves, who stayed up past 3am as she spoke of her passions, who made everyone wait for her to eat, who chooses to sun his wings next to her in peaceful, quiet company… is an entitled, flaky male that sees her as nothing but a sexual distraction?

Do people really not realize what it means for him to question the Cauldron, question the very core of his beliefs?

1) It is not his feelings he questions:

His mind is tortured by thoughts of Elain, so much so he can’t sleep;

They do not need words to communicate, indicating familiarity & understanding;

He IS showing more than “just lust”, it’s clear from their interactions since the first trilogy. There was something there before Nessian happened.

2) Not only does he believe himself unworthy of her, but that sentiment is reinforced by the fact that the Cauldron “broke the pattern”. I do not see the entitled man the fandom speaks of. What he is is a deeply traumatized man, who was abused as a boy by the people who were meant to love him & protect him.

The popular thought that Az would fold for a mate, regardless of who she (or he) is, is truthfully not attractive, not to mention that it implies he’d only risk love for a “guaranteed” happy ending.

=> “Az wants a mate therefore give him a mate” is counterproductive to his growth (tho to clarify, i am not saying he should not have a mate, just that there is a way the story should be told.)

We have seen him plan for snowball fights & tactical missions, yet never for his future: not with Elain—again, he never even actually allowed himself to consider pursuing her—but not in any other sense either:

Children? he tells Cass he doesnt know if he wants any—has he ever let himself imagine having a child? A house ? he has no place to himself. Remember that even after 500 years of existence, Az says he still does not know where he belongs?

Could you not imagine two people who make themselves what others need them to be, being brave enough to bare those hidden, repressed parts of themselves to the other. Can you not see the growth it would require from both of them should they give themselves a chance? To, on one hand, choose the other despite what is expected & the problems it would cause, and on the other, be vulnerable enough to receive that love & believe yourself worthy of it.

Love doesnt care for convenience. It could all go to hell but at least they’d know they had tried, and i do not see how that could ever make for a boring, 2 dimensional story.

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers pt. 1

Gif not mine

A/N: Title subject to change, not sure how I feel about it. This is my first published fic here so pls be gentle. Also I'm terrible at summaries.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Summary: For the most part swap Vision with mutant Y/N whose powers were enhanced by the Mind stone embedded in her forehead courtesy of Hydra. Takes place post Multiverse of Madness, only instead of trying to kill America Chavez, Wanda taught the teen how to control her powers and in doing so, learned how said powers worked herself, becoming able to copy them.

With her newfound powers, Wanda searches the multiverse for her lost spouse and children. She discovers a universe where Y/N exists but she and their sons do not. This aligns with her plans, allowing her to avoid dealing with another version of herself. Using her powers, Wanda intends to make Y/N love her in an attempt to rebuild their family. Whether she does so willingly, or the Scarlet Witch makes her, both are acceptable to Wanda.

Masterlist here

Chapter One

A silent scream escapes your lips as you gasp for breath. Another nightmare. Damn, that's the third one this week, and it's only Monday. Weary, you wipe the sweat from your forehead and head to the bathroom to splash water on your face. It's finals week, and you have an exam in a few hours. A quick glance at the clock shows that it's already 3AM and you groan. Maybe you can manage to get a couple more hours of sleep before the rest of the night slips away.

Lately, for some unknown reason, your troubled mind has been subjecting you to night terrors that make you question your entire reality. These nightmares have been unusually realistic, and you frequently experience more than one per night. At times, you are haunted by so many consecutive nightmares, causing your friends to wonder if you are getting any sleep at all.

The sound of your footsteps padding across the floor is the only thing you hear as you walk from your bedroom to the adjoining bathroom to wash your face. You don't bother turning on the lights since you have a nightlight in the bathroom. You've never been a fan of the pitch black darkness in the bathroom, but the bright overhead lights give you a migraine at the best of times. As a result, your bathroom is mostly covered in shadows, usually just enough for you to do what you need to do and then go back to bed. However, tonight is different. As you accidentally glance up at your reflection, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you see a pair of glowing red eyes staring back at you from behind, causing your heart to race.

As you spin around, you raise a fist to defend yourself against the intruder, only to realize that you are alone in your bathroom. You turn back to your mirror and find yourself alone once again. It must have been remnants of the nightmare. In a hurry, you turn on the faucet's cold water tap, run your hands under it, and splash your face. Although hesitant to fully look away from your reflection for fear of the 'intruder' returning, you still want to wipe the sweat from your clammy face.

It was just a bad dream. However realistic, it wasn’t actually real. Shaking it off, you quickly close the bathroom door and head back to bed, intent on getting as much of your remaining night’s sleep as you can before your exam tomorrow. Or rather, later today. 

A few hours later, you find yourself in your usual study spot at the university. The library is your safe haven, and it's definitely your favorite place to be. Even if you didn't have to study (which you absolutely did - you were so far behind if you had any hope of graduating with honors, you needed to spend every available moment here), you would often be found here simply reading a book. Your friends and professors are well aware of your voracious appetite for reading, so if anyone ever wonders where to find you, the answer is likely to be here.

Your first exam was in an hour, and you were cramming every last bit of knowledge you could before taking said exam. You needed the highest grade possible. Your future, your escape, depended on it. It could be argued that this desperation was why you initially didn't notice the sound of children's voices reverberating through the library. While the library was usually empty, it was not uncommon for adult students to bring their children with them to study when their own childcare plans fell through. It was inconvenient, but you tried to be considerate and simply tuning it out. Another day, another distraction, and you didn't have time for it.

Eventually, the disruptive sound became impossible to ignore, and despite your desire to not be rude, you needed to focus and get your work done. With more force than strictly necessary, you slammed your book shut, preparing to find a quieter place to study. However, just as you were about to stand up, two twin boys, around ten years old, came running down the library hall, filled with laughter and giggles, heading straight towards you. Your eyes widened as you realized they had no intention of changing their course - they were definitely going to collide with you.

Opening your arms to catch them, and hopefully prevent all of you from careening onto the ground, you found yourself asking “Hey what’s all this? Where’s your mother, you guys?”

The boys looked at you, confused. “What are you talking about, Momma?”

Your eyes turned the size of saucers. “Momma”? That was new. Someone must be playing a trick on you. How ~delightful~ you thought, annoyed. As if you weren’t already stressed out enough, someone had roped in a couple of kids to play a game of fuck around and find out. Well, whomever had put them up to this, when you found them, they were about to find out. 

The library's main door swung open, revealing the presence of an incredibly beautiful woman you estimated to be in her mid thirties, with fiery red hair and the most mesmerizing emerald eyes you had ever seen. Her appearance headed straight towards you left you speechless, immediately taking all the wind out of your sails. Oh well, you were always more bark than bite, you supposed. If you thought her looks were stunning, though, they paled in comparison to the melodic sound of her angelic voice.

“Billy, Tommy, come here boys!”

"Mommy!" the twins shouted at the same time before running into her arms. Part of you wanted to scold them for clearly breaking the library's code of conduct, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it when all three of them just looked so happy. You couldn't explain why your heart clenched at the sight of them either, but for some reason, now that the initial surprise had faded, you were soothed by their presence.

You observe their interaction, not wanting to interrupt their intimate moment. Your heart ached at how comfortable the family appeared to be with one another. Once the stunning woman appears reassured about her children’s well-being, she instructs them to go play and shooing them away before redirecting her attention towards you. You feel a pleasant tightening in your chest as her warm gaze focuses on you.

Even though the children have clearly disrupted your valuable study time, you find yourself dismissing it as if it were insignificant. "Oh, it's no problem, I understand how children can be." You don't, you have never had a sibling nor a child of your own, and you have never babysat a day in your life. 

"It's just that they missed you so much, darling," she whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

“Huh?”

She takes a step closer, invading your personal space, and begins adjusting your shirt. One of the buttons had come undone at some point, and she seems determined to fix it. Part of you wants to point out that she, a complete stranger, should not be in your personal space, let alone touching your clothing. And what did she mean by saying that her children "missed" you? You didn't know them. You didn't even know her. Warning bells start ringing in your head, as you are pretty sure this is the plot of some horror movie. You should leave. This is not a level of crazy you can deal with right now. 

"The boys missed you, Detka. It's been a long time since you've been home, so we decided to come see you!" The woman finally finishes fixing your shirt and looks up at you. Though there is warmth in her expression, there's also a hint of madness, her once green eyes tinged with red.

“I-ah… that’s great, and all but I uhh.. I have an exam coming up, I need to get going.”

“Going?”

The warmth in the woman's voice is gone, replaced by a raspy iciness that sends a chill down your spine.

"My love, the only place you need to go is home, with us, your family."

You turn to face the woman and immediately regret it. Standing before you is no longer the woman in mom jeans and a plaid shirt. Instead, she appears to be dressed in some expensive sorceress cosplay that you estimate would cost thousands of dollars to create or purchase. When... when could she have possibly changed? Just a second ago she was dressed like a normal person, right?

Slowly, you take in the sight of her. Not only has her outfit changed, but her overall appearance as well. Her cheeks hollowed, the sockets of her eyes are sunken as if she hasn't slept in weeks, and her eyes are a glowing crimson. The same shade from your nightmares.

This isn’t real. This is another nightmare. One you need to wake up from. 

“Oh absolutely fucking not.” You whisper, as you turn and run.

Unbeknownst to you, the Scarlet Witch allows you to flee. With a flick of her wrist, she could have immobilized you, could have compelled you to accompany her, whether willingly or not, but she chooses not to. The pursuit begins, and she intends to enjoy herself. You will succumb to her, and do so quite prettily. She starts walking down the hallway after you, taking her time. After all, now that she has found you, she has all the time in the world to play with you.

Grace has never been a quality that you possess. In fact, you remember a song your mother made up when you were a child specifically to remind you just how graceless you were. Not that it helps you now, as your brain never finds the appropriate time to recall useless facts. Cursing your ineptitude, you rush out of the library as fast as your legs can carry you.

 Moments later, you’re throwing yourself into every door along the hall, however, none of them open. What is wrong with this place? Why is everything locked? You don't remember the university being so fond of locking everything, but then again, you only go to about the same four places. Variety might be the spice of life, but your stomach (anxiety) prefers a milder taste.

As you run, you hear the clicking of the woman's heels, hot on your trail. Or is she really hot on your trail? It sounds as if... you tilt your head, listening. She's walking? You think to yourself that surely you can outrun a woman walking in heels. Surely. (Your asthma would suggest otherwise). Abandoning yet another locked door, you rush further down the hallway. Maybe you don't need to outrun her or find a room to hide in; after all, barricading yourself would only delay the inevitable. Your goal is to reach civilization, to find other people. Speaking of which, where is everyone? Usually, this wing of the university is bustling with activity at this hour.

Exhausted, you pause to catch your breath, hands resting on your knees, hoping that you have managed to buy yourself some time. Unfortunately, your hopes are dashed as her low, raspy voice fills the corridors, humming what sounds like a lullaby in an unfamiliar language. The eerie sound sends chills down your spine, making it painfully clear that luck is not on your side. Where could she be? She is not next to you, nor ahead, yet her voice continues to echo, sounding almost...

Almost the same moment you realize the source of the danger, a hand reaches through the mirror from behind you and grabs your shirt with an unnatural strength. You scream loudly, hoping to alert someone in the building for help, but no one comes to your aid. "What the- LET GO OF ME!" You forcefully pull your shirt from her grip, tearing it in the process, and hastily retreat down the hallway.

To your horror, you see the woman's arm brace against the wall and begin to pull herself out through the mirror. You scramble to your feet, desperate to flee once again, with only one thought repeating in your mind: "What the fuck?!" None of this could be real.

"Y/N," a low voice said in a saccharine tone. "Where do you think you're going? Don't you know that I will always find you? I have crossed thousands of universes to find you, and now that I have you, I will never let you go." In any other context, this would probably be incredibly sweet. Currently however, it only fuels your fear, sending you into a blind panic. You have to escape whatever the hell this is.

Navigating through corridor after corridor you eventually  spot one of your classmates at the end, entering the exact exam room you needed to be in that morning. It's a desperate situation, but maybe they can buy you some time while you make your escape through a window or something. It’s not a brave thought, you’re not proud of it, but survival instincts have already kicked in. 

You quickly catch up to your classmate, despite initially being so much farther behind, managing to slide into the room just after them. The proctor promptly closes the door behind you. You're breathing heavily, and in your haste, you embarrassingly just slid into the backside of your classmate, with your shirt heavily torn. You must look ridiculous, but unsurprisingly no one questions you about it, your classmate simply looking miffed and whispering an insult as they move out of your personal space. The situation would be comical if you hadn't just been running for your life.

It’s fine. This is fine. Everything’s fine. 

Steadying your breathing, you make your way to the back of the classroom, nearest the window and stare apprehensively at the door. You’re expecting any second now for that woman to come barging in, but she doesn’t, and now here you are ready for your exam. Wow you must really be losing it. Stress induced hallucinations, that has to be it.

Although you were hesitant to simply continue with your day, the world doesn't wait for anyone. Whether you actively participated or not, your proctor would still grade your exam, which your future still depended on. You made an effort to push the hallucination from your mind and concentrate on the information you had retained for the exam, aiming to achieve the highest score possible.

Once you have completed the exam, you hand it in and cautiously enter the hallway. The grades wouldn't be posted until the end of the term, but you were confident enough in your answers to believe that you had earned at least an A. Whether it was an A+ or A- was still uncertain, but you were hoping for the former. So focused were you on your test that you had almost forgotten about the incident earlier that morning. For a moment, you wondered if you should visit the university's nurse. Although she was not an actual doctor, it was a free service, and perhaps she could recommend something. On the other hand, at worst, she would suggest getting more sleep, and at best, she would advise you to see a doctor, which you couldn't afford. Not to mention the argument your parents would start regarding the doctor’s bill (as if they were above opening your mail). Perhaps not. 

You had no more exams for the day, so it was time to go home. There were chores to do for your parents, and then you had to study for tomorrow's exam. If you were lucky, you could finish everything early and get a few extra hours of sleep, hopefully avoiding another hallucination like today. Rubbing the exhaustion from your face, you head towards the bus stop. It was early enough that the bus should arrive within the next fifteen minutes, and you would be home in about an hour. Everything was going according to plan. Tomorrow was going to be a great day, you just had a feeling.

Once on the bus, your exhaustion started to overwhelm you, your headphones doing little to drown out the ambient noise. Before long, you were fast asleep. Even if you were awake, you probably wouldn't have noticed the viridian eyes in the reflection of the bus window watching over you. Unlike before, these eyes didn't appear to be of malicious intent. If anything, they seemed to observe you with care and empathy. If the volume of your headphones spontaneously happened to outweigh that of the alarm you had set for yourself to awaken you for your stop, that was just a coincidence.

A/N 2: sorry but the writers of the M.o.M. butchered her character just to have her shoehorned into a villain role so Strange would have an adversary already established in the MCU as a powerful magic user - I'm still salty about it. However Ms. Olsen's performance was phenomenal. Anyway lmk if this is absolutely trash or if you wanna maybe read more? I have a couple of chapters pre-written but not the entire thing.

Many thanks to my editors @flowers-shouldnt-die, and Brooke for helping me through this and providing valuable feedback! Especially @flowers-shouldnt-die for her assistance with translations in helping me learn both Hungarian and Russian for this. Wouldn't have made it this far in the story without you :3

[happilychee]

do fairy tail characters nap?

just woke up from a nap. recommend.

♡ as annoying as this is to her, lucy always falls asleep when she reads. it takes forever for her to get through a book! it's just so soothing, especially if the story is compelling and lulls her in... bonus points if she's on a train or in a car; the rocking motion will have her out like a light.

♡ levy has no trouble getting through books because it gets her excited, not tired. she doesn't let lucy forget this. she does, however, stay up until ungodly hours of the night to finish a story. gajeel, jet, droy, and lily have found her passed out over a book (or twenty) multiple times. I think she's always buzzing with energy or curiosity, so one of the only ways for levy to settle in is if gajeel literally lies on top of her like a weighted blanket.

♡ speaking of, gajeel is very neutral about naps. he doesn't actively seek them out, mostly because he's one of the few members of the guild who has a relatively normal sleep schedule. he is, however, soft as hell. levy and lily always nap on him. wendy will nap on him. juvia will nap on him. gajeel looks scary asf if he glares, so no one will bother whoever's sleeping by his side. he is also actually very squishy if he relaxes his muscles. 10/10 pillow.

♡ cana naps like nobody's business. she goes out at night, stays up late drinking or partying, and crashes at 3am in gray or loke's bed. there is no "schedule" to sleeping so she will sleep whenever and wherever. cana has the uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere. slumped over a table in a guild hall while natsu and gray throw chairs at each other? out like a light. lying on a freezing cold bench while her and lucy wait for a train? snoring away. (lucy pulls cana's head into her lap.) cana rarely falls asleep in an actual bed, though. if she does, it's because she's dead tired, and she's been incentivized by cuddles.

♡ natsu looooves a good nap. him and happy cat nap all the time. this might actually be the only consistent thing in their schedules: nap. the entire guild knows, courtesy of mirajane, to stfu for a bit when 1 o'clock hits. they don't actually need to, because natsu could sleep through a storm, but it's the thought that counts. natsu is also really warm and cuddly, which means that he's the perfect napping buddy. being buried in his warm arms, snug as a bug with happy between you... truly the dream.

♡ gray hates naps. hates them!! all because he wakes up the way you wake up from an after-school nap: sweaty, dizzy, disoriented, in a different dimension, with an overwhelming sense of dread. he reveals this one night when he and lucy are plastered at a bar, and that he's slightly jealous of natsu. lucy resolves to fix this, and when they're both blackout drunk she drags him into bed with her. not quite a nap, but hey, gray woke up feeling nice.

♡ sting might be the only character in the fairy tail universe that goes to bed at 10pm. his sleep schedule is on point, so he doesn't really nap unless he's exhausted from running sabertooth's infirmary. he will snuggle up in a square of sunlight with lector and snooze away.

♡ what is a nap? minerva doesn't nap. she doesn't need to rest during the day, she has things to do, what are you talking about- oh. oh. I think sabertooth has a very luxurious library, and minerva knocks out on one of the plush purple couches. more often than not, frosch will worm their way into her arms. the only people who dare to mention her naps are yukino (who minerva has a soft spot for) and sting (who has no sense of self-preservation).

[theconstellationprincess]

House MD is so special to me. Everyone is a flip there, all of them. They’re just all silly little guys.

House is- oh geez he regresses all over the place. No age range, just chaos. Wilson was the first to know, before even House, because House didn’t actually know what it was (very rare occurrence.) It’s hard to tell when House is small because he’s just *like that* all the time, but he has a few tells. He’s quieter, more reserved, but only sometimes. Other times he gets more energetic and paces and fidgets more. Wilson can always tell, and eventually Foreman gets there too, and 13 clocks it right away like Wilson. 13 always knows, always. House can/will caregive, but it’s not his favourite. Except for Wilson, and Chase, and 13, because they are his (not so) secret favourites. Even then, he’s still not… amazing at it. He’s Wilson’s go to, And 13s on occasion.

Wilson is- he’s my little guy. Oh my gosh. So both agere and petre. He’s just- he’s a puppy dog, sometimes. He’s a baby, and a dog, sometimes at the same time. Wilson learns about age regression from Bonnie, who was selling a house too a couple and they wanted a second bedroom to turn into a nursery, but a sized up on. She had laughed at it at the time, so had he, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. He did research, and when ‘ooh uh oh.’ Because he’s silly like that. Pet regression wasn’t even something he knew he did, he just viewed it as regression over a general term, House introduced him to the specific term. They are flips for each other, Wilson takes care of House (very well) and House takes care of Wilson (he does his best) and they are happy. Occasionally, Wilson also caregives for a duckling, and gets taken care of by Cuddy or one of the ducklings.

My brain is stuck on Taub so- listen- he’s just a little fella. Not that he’s short, because he is average height, but ooh boy. Sometimes the fact that he is physically shorter than everyone on Houses team makes his brain do funny things. Taub needs human contact, he needs a hug so badly, and really he wants to be held, but his self-esteem is low so he doesn’t let himself even consider affection from people. When Taub regresses, these reservations go out the window. He wants hugs and hand holding and for someone to rub his back as he cries, and he will ask, so hopeful that no one says no. If they do say no, he will go hide so he can cry by himself, because he’s very worried about guilt tripping people into liking him when small. He regresses pretty small I think, like 1-4 range, and he does not regress at work for ages, but eventually it happens. He feigns illness and hides at home.

His wife knows, how could she not? But she doesn’t understand it. When he moves in with Foreman, hiding it is both easier and harder. Foreman doesn’t really care what he does, but he does want to sleep well, so Taub stops the late night TV because nothing makes him regress more than the original Dr Who. Well, that and the staying up late because his brain is a terrible place to be.

Foreman finds out eventually, at around 3am, when he walks in on Taub crying as the Third Doctor regenerates, which wouldn’t have been super odd, if Taub was not clutching a stuffed animal with a thumb in his mouth. That was the first time Foreman hugged Taub, though not particularly willingly.

And Foreman tells Chase and Cameron, of course, and it makes it to House by the end of the next day. Taub is both relieved and extremely stressed when House doesn’t mention it.

Let me know if you want more House, or any specific characters for me to write about!

[vidavalor]

A handful of GO/food-related thoughts (66% of which came to me in insomniac semi-sapience at 3am):

1) Would the Ineffable Husbands eat burritos, and what might 'burrito' refer to in their coded language?

2) The rice in sushi is functionally analogous to the bread in a sandwich and now I am flailing about potential implications in relation to your Bread meta

3) You remember the bit in the book about one of the Other Four Bikers disliking anchovies and/or olives on pizza? There's an actual French dish a bit like that! It's called 'pissaladière' (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pissaladi%C3%A8re), it's from the south of France (Nice/Provence sort of area) and it's actually rather yummy! (I made it for supper tonight ^_^) Granted, anchovies can be a bit of an acquired taste

Hi @jotun-philosopher The most sapient thoughts sometimes come in the insomniac semi-sapience at 3am, I find. What cool questions! Some fun with food, sexual euphemisms, and etymology for you. 💕

Burritos: What's extra Good Omens-y about this question, imo, is that "burrito" comes from the Spanish "burro", which means "donkey", so, a burrito is actually a "little donkey" and, by that measure alone, I will say odds are solid that the Ineffable Husbands have eaten burritos lol. That and they've been around forever and have probably eaten most things and burritos are so, so good... You might reasonably ask 'why the fuck is this delicious food named after donkeys?' and the answer is that it's thought to be because a burrito can and does hold so many different kinds of ingredients that it's kind of a "workhorse" of food. It handles so much at once by bringing in so many different nutrients and tastes that it's akin to the "workhorse" of animals, which is a donkey. The show also already aligns Aziraphale with donkeys and actually did so again pretty recently with Shax referring to Aziraphale as an ass and then that the elevator is in the doorway to the pub The Dirty Donkey (which I think we can all agree Crowley named? 😉).

[@procrastiel I saw your tags in my other, more depressing post about Aziraphale & The Dirty Donkey-- I was going for the above, not the more horrifying option. I'm sure you'll be relieved. 🤣]

As for food symbolism in burritos, there's just so many different ingredients, idk... I think they'd make innuendo out of what's ordered to be in the burrito on any given day. I can't imagine one of them not making a hot sauce reference, since sauce and its variety of meanings is a very Ineffable Husbands word and they've used it before in different ways ("gravlax in dill sauce"; "you dip it in soy sauce").

Sushi and Bread: You're right about the rice in sushi being functionally analogous to bread in that it's the starch but I think it's actually the nori or leaves used to wrap the sushi that is technically "the bread" of sushi. (So, on top of there being fish in the sushi, the "bread" is actually seaweed in 1.01... mmm🐟. 😉) But your point that sushi can be seen as a sandwich of sorts? Yes, totally. A sandwich being food between two or more slices of bread (or a stand in for bread that serves the purpose of containing the filling). A person then euphemistically tied to bread is then a person who is a participant in partnered sex. Mrs. Sandwich is "Mrs. Sandwich" because she "makes sandwiches" for other people-- she allocates slices of bread to one another.

The bread itself that has been mentioned so far is also interesting from an euphemistic standpoint. Besides the brioche looked at in Crepes, there's sourdough (mentioned in Lockdown as the only bread that Aziraphale has baked and, um, "has baked" in the last few days) and there's also the first mention of bread in the series... which is from God 😂 when she codes Crowley as black bread in 1.01. The joke there likely being that both sourdough and black bread are examples of the kinds of bread that are made through a process of fermentation-- the same way that alcohol is made-- reiterating alcohol and bread as euphemistic for sex.

Pissaladiere: Thank you for reminding me of it-- it's been ages since I had it and it's very spring. Might need to make one soon. Glad yours was delicious! Just a warning, though: I think Crowley would make you disappear if you ever tried to serve Aziraphale a pissaladiere, though. A French fish-topped tart? There's nary a more Ineffable Husbands dish in existence lol. Pissaladiere rooted from the Latin piscis, meaning "fish" and it reminds me of some wordplay in the show in Aziraphale's entry in 'The Demon's Guide...' that Furfur had in 1941.

The obvious joke with the entries in the guide is that they're supposed to be about angels from the demonic perspective and have to use language that is negative to describe these angels but... this just means it's an excuse for Crowley and Aziraphale to get their 'wily'/'smitten', etc. on and use words that have different, contradictory definitions. Everything in Aziraphale's entry-- that we all agree was written by Crowley (and in what we are shown of the Baraqiel one, that feels very 'written by Aziraphale')-- is actually complimentary or referencing their relationship in the fuller meanings of the words used under the negative connotation on the surface.

One of the descriptive details listed for Aziraphale is "suspishous ears", with an intentional misspelling of "suspicious" to look demonic, right? One of the parts of the wordplay there is that the misspelling is done so as to now include the word "pish"-- a bit of a Crowley & Aziraphale wily/smitten-type of word on a few different levels.

To say something is "pish" is to say that it's something you disagree with and/or that it is disgusting and it took on that meaning largely from being Scottish slang for urine (as it's a near-homophone for "piss"... see also, the British phrase "to take the piss (out of [x])" being to roast someone or something.) This is the negative connotation on the surface but where this is relevant to Crowley and Aziraphale is in the etymology of "pish"...

The word actually formed in the English language as onomatopoeia (words that are formed out of sounds like, among some of Crowley's other mentioned favorites in the show, "frou frou" and "whoop.") Out of what sounds, you ask? The "psshshsh" noises ornithologists and others make to attract small birds.

It's also thought to originate about equally with the bird-attracting sounds from "la peche"... which you'll be unsurprised to learn is the French word for fish.

In Mohegan-Pequot, spoken by the indigenous people of my neck of the woods in New England, and in a couple of other languages, use of "pish" is actually rooted from the English peas.

To have "suspicious ears"-- with "suspicious" spelled correctly-- is to be cautious about who you trust. "Suspishus ears", built to include "pish", then references fish, peas, and nightingales at once and would then be calling Aziraphale a good partner who listens.

A communication breakdown, though-- not listening-- also being a theme in S2 and its "I don't think your exactlys are my exactlys"/"aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear"/"no nightingales" misery...

[lemon-russ]

Today's parade of fleas comes with a complementary/ optional musical accompaniment

BABY SAID - Måneskin

Lots of this was written at 3am on my phone and deep in my Unwell (tm) brain land. I love putting them in situations.

Part 5/ ???

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 7.5 :: 8

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

(Cato POV 3rd person this time though)

CW: Talks about sex, Cato being a bully (verbally)

Summary: Cato does not want to talk about the events occurring from the discovery of the new emotion of horny

word count: 2,096

He couldn't even begin to explain to himself why he just did that. He sits on the floor of the cave, staring ahead with a blank, tense look, thinking about how sometimes, he does things, and sometimes, they have consequences. Like this awkward, confused silence.

The ambassador sits a few feet away, sharing a similar look. She was flushed still, hair a mess, dress barely holding on after the rock wall of the cave shredded the back of it. By the throne she looked good like this- No, stop that, doesn't he learn? This whole thing was insane and now he's going to have to live with it, and yet he's still sitting here daydreaming of how she'd look on her back and fully naked next time.

But there isn't going to be a next time, because that was a moment of insanity. They had been arguing, why did he kiss her? Okay, he knows why, but he doesn't want to actually think about that, because it's a stupid reason. She'd been insisting he didn't care about her- which is correct- but for some reason some sort of madness overcame him and he wanted her to think he did care. Okay, maybe he cared like, a little. Not anything weird, it's not sentimental to not actively wish death on someone. He'd go so far as to say it wasn't even overly familiar to wish someone does not die.

But that feels like a long leap between I'd be displeased if you perished and pinning her to a wall and fucking her mindless. Which he will admit, he did do. And he was excellent at it, of course. Cato Sicarius is the greatest at all feats of combat, and what is sex but really sticky awkward combat? He smirks to himself a bit. Another grand mastery to mark down, even if it was one he might prefer to keep to himself. But, unfortunately, unlike regular combat, your fighting partner here stays very much alive- hopefully- and can do things like ask you what was that about and what the actual fuck was that about Cato, no, seriously, what was that. He grimaces and takes a deep breath, letting it out tiredly. Not physically tired of course, he was superior in all things, including this, and was not so weak as to tire so fast- not that that matters, because, again, it won't happen again. But if it did, it could happen right now. Theoretically. Space marine stamina was second to none.

She glances over at him, expression mirroring his internal conflicts. “So….” She says softly, a small frown tugging the corners of her mouth. He clears his throat. “So.” He returns, frowning back. Emperor this was awkward. Truly a fitting punishment, to be forced to endure such banal things like talking about feelings after sex. He shudders to himself.

She frowns a bit deeper. “Are we going toooo…. Talk about that or….” She asks in a nervous voice.

Ah, excellent, she was giving him a choice. He sighs in relief, smiling genuinely for the first time in what feels like a week. “No, thank you.” He says politely, standing and brushing off his pants. What a weight off his mind, maybe he could do this sex thing more often-

“Cato.” She says, displeased. He frowns. He didn't know it was a trick question, but apparently he'd gotten it wrong. He groans. “Can't we just, pretend it didn't happen?” He pleads with an exasperated look. “What happens on dirt rock planet stays on dirt rock planet or something?” He grumbles, checking outside for the armies. Night had fallen, but he didn't see anything new at least.

“You seriously aren't going to explain what that was about?” She says, growing more frustrated. His eye twitches. This, this is why astartes are not supposed to take women to their beds. They can't move on from things and need to talk about unimportant drivel like motivations and futures and labels. Uhg. He rolls his eyes, giving her an annoyed look. “What's there to say? Your face when you got angry was attractive and I fell to baser reactions after a long and stressful day of saving you from perils.” He said dryly, crossing his arms and leaning against the cave wall, facing out and keeping watch.

She groans, “That's your excuse? You just, decided today was the day to grow a heart and feel human needs and you take it out on me?” She says tiredly.

He huffs out his nose, frowning over his shoulder at her. “I have two hearts, actually. Maybe you should read up more on the superior anatomy of an astartes and spend less time droning on about weather with nobles.” He frowns back out at the landscape. Was that a light…?

She growls in frustration. “Unbelievable. No, actually, very believable. It's my fault, really, for fucking you and thinking maybe you were having some sort of emotional breakthrough-” he hushes her, making her fluster in anger, but his eyes are trained on the light outside, and she catches the hint and just huffs out her nose a little. She quietly scootches over to see what he's looking at. Daft woman, a mortal's eyes can't see that far in the dark.

“I don't see anything…” she murmurs. No shit. Maybe he shook the last cobwebs of intelligence from her skull when he slammed her against that wall. He just hushes her again, making her pout. He glances at her annoyed little face and briefly considers repeating his misstep- no, focus Cato, there's enemies around. And he's pretty sure she can't take being fucked any dumber before she loses her ability to form speech. He smirks to himself at his little internal diss as he scans the landscape again.

He sees a search party now, combing the area back and forth in lines. Fuck. That is very, very bad for them. “Time to go” he says quietly, scooping her up onto his shoulder, making her squeak as air was knocked out of her a little. He frowns a little and glances at her kicking and annoyed little form. Well, maybe there was a few minutes before that party found them- no, no she cries like a banshee when she comes, they'd find them in minutes.

He sighs, moving her onto his shoulder upright. “hold onto my armor” he instructs, standing with her clinging to the neck of his armor, sitting on his power pack like he's giving her a piggy back ride. He puts his helmet on, “We're going to be running and calling for a pickup.” he says, ducking out of the cave and into the cold desert night. She shivers and he grimaces. Right, she barely has clothes on. Not that he cares if she's cold, but, it’s probably not great for their cover if her teeth chatter. He sighs and reluctantly tugs his cape off its holds on his back. “Here. Your ridiculous outfit choice once again forces me to do everything for you, wrap yourself in this.” He grumbles. She blinks at him, expression something he couldn't read, and takes the cape, using it like a blanket and tying it around herself. She smiles a little at him and he grimaces. “Stop that.” He demands. “Don't look at me like that. It freaks me out.”

She raises her brow and sighs. “Lets just get home.” She says, rubbing the bridge of her nose, mumbling something about mixed messages. That's stupid. His messages were very clear. He never mixes them. He huffs and starts heading away from the search party into open dark desert.

He moves at a light jog, and after a few minutes, she makes a sharp noise, making him stop and look up at her. Shes frowning, “ah- sorry, don't mind me, I'm just sore from… well… the power pack is a little hard to sit on right now.” She mumbles, glancing away awkwardly.

He sighs. “squishy, breakable mortal.” He says tiredly, pulling her off his back with a squeak. “Aren't you meant to push children out of there? How could I so damage you by doing what nature intended for it.” He grumbles as he moves to cradle her bridal style instead.

She's surprised a moment as he holds her, then frowns a bit. “I don't think astartes count as things nature intended to happen to it…” she grumbles, pink staining her cheeks as she glances away. He chuckles to himself as he starts jogging again, “Ah yes, nature could not predict the perfection of the space marine. Maybe we should create genetic enhancements for women, allowing them to not break the moment they are touched in any capacity.” He speculates to himself. “The basics, really, hardened bones, healing, sturdier flesh, some spare organs. Maybe increased pelvic capacity so an astartes lover doesn't rend you more useless than usual.” He says, smirking down at her behind his helmet. “Then I wouldn't have to work so hard this whole trip to just keep bullets out of you. It has been a huge trouble for me, you know.” He says with slight annoyance.

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously still doing this? You admitted to me already that you care about me and didn't like seeing me hurt.” She says with a tired scowl.

He nods, “Yes, which is also deeply disturbing. Now I have to keep you free of holes and breaks, because if I don't-” he stuttered in his gait, taking a small breath. He was thankful for the helmet, it was hard to school his expression right now, and it hid the terrified grimace that assaulted his face muscles at the thought of her becoming injured. He let out a tense sigh. “Well, it is quite annoying that for some reason I will be the one to suffer if great harm comes to you.” He grumbles a bit.

She blinks up at him- ah, there's that stupid puzzled look again. It'd be cute almost if it wasn't so agitating that she could apparently not comprehend simple thoughts at random. He sighed. “What is that face for? Shall I say it slower with smaller words?” He asks dryly.

She frowns and knits her brow, but was still looking at him like he'd grown another head like a chaos spawn. “You are possibly the most stubborn or most dense man I've ever met, and I can't decide which it is. Maybe both.” She says, shaking her head. The action makes some of her hair fluff around her face and he scolds himself when he thinks it's cute. “What in the Emperor's name are you on about now, you senseless creature?” He asks in exasperation.

She rolls her eyes. “I don't think I have the time or crayons to explain the entirety of the concept of interpersonal relationships and emotions to you right now, Cato.” She says tiredly, laying her head against his chest plate. He smiles at her cuddling to him- wait stop that she insulted you, do not smile- he forces a frown. “You do not need to explain these things to me. I know them well.” He huffs indignantly. “I am Cato Sicarius, master of many things, including psychology.” He says, pouting under his helmet. He already solved psychology this morning.

She chuckles for some warp damned reason, actually laughing at emperor knows what. He frowns down at her as she giggles herself into a fit. “I fear your mind may have sustained one too many hits, knocking what's left of your brain against the inside of your ceramite skull.” He says with a small scowl. “You seem to be losing more and more of your senses every passing moment. Perhaps it is good I did not actually render you unconscious to make you easier to handle. You probably wouldn't be able to speak again.” He says with an annoyed tone as he picks up the pace and voxes an SOS signal with their location up to the flagship.

She laughs more, snorting a little and shaking in his arms. It makes him crack a smile himself against his will. “You are mad, Woman.” He grumbles, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. That's what it all comes down to, he decides. Women are simply all completely mad. Boom, he solved women, the eternal enigma. He smiles to himself. He was on a roll today, but that's expected. He's Cato Sicarius, there is no mystery he cannot unravel.

[venaue]

[ 1 ] OC INTROS - MY TWST AU

first up : both of my yuu ocs! They co-exist in ramshackle and both play an important part in the story :D

Yuuto & Kiyuu !

more info abt them under the cut :3 [ totally not a shameless plug but i have a rp blog for them @ramshackle-snowyruins id be very happy if u checked it out :D]

REBLOGS WLD BE VERY VERY MUCH APPRECIATED !!!!!!!! <33

______________________________________________________________

first up is yuuto ! a bit of extra basic info about him :

yuuto goes by he/it , and is afab & transmasc (this however is not public knowledge)

introverted extrovert

he's an adrenaline junkie , and he enjoys getting into fights , and playing sports . (if you see him with a grin on his face during an overblot… you're not hallucinating unfortunatly... ;p)

he is easily irritable , and is often fighting with ace (as ace also does with deuce)

he also has insomnia. he finds it hard to fall asleep until around 3-4 in the morning, and wakes up at around 7-8, unless having to earlier for school.

he often hangs out with crimson and aros (2nd yr ocs) in the pop music club (with kiyuu) before the club starts, sometimes they plays music with them, and sometimes they just hang out

enjoys games, both online and board/card-esc, likes using strategy, though most of the time his temper hinders his ability to actually perform well...

one of the things he enjoys most about being at NRC is broom riding, he absolutely loves it. he often pesters anchor or mace to use their magic to get his broom started in flight class, even though he hardly ever goes out of his way to interact with anybody, even them.

if yuuto had a choice to go back to their world, he wouldn't take it, even if he was forced. he never wants to go back, and nothing would ever make him change his mind.

relationship status with canon: bffs (he's in denial tho): ace , deuce , epel , jack , ortho , sebek clubmates: azul , idia a different kind of clubmates category: leona "oh thats a close friend of [an oc/canon char they're connected to in some way]": lilia , floyd , jade , rook , silver , ruggie acquaintances: jamil , cater , trey , kalim , malleus they dislike him a tad (read: maybe a bit more than a tad): vil , riddle (^^ very brief categories just as a basis ... maybe if u ask (either here or on the rp acc) i might go into more depth ;3)

(anonymously online (under the pseudonym @/infinitelygray), he's also good friends with gloomurai and muscle_red) ;)

O-KAY TIME FOR KIYUU !!! u know the drill nooww <3

they go by they/she/he and are amab non-binary!! (again , not public knowledge tho,,)

extroverted introvert

kiyuu appears to be a confident and cheerful person, taking efforts to resolve conflicts and make sassy jokes

but they're also a chronic overthinker, always acting before they can think and then immediately regretting it afterwards , even if it had no consequence at all, always second guessing herself

she absolutely adores makeup and feminine clothing and stuff and feels most confident when theyr presenting fem and when theyve taken care of their appearance, its one of the only ways she can really feel a little more confident in herself

kiyuu has enochlophobia , the phobia of crowds , and such often grows quiet and fidgety whenever in large groups of individuals

kiyuu also has a form of insomnia , but rather a polar opposite of yuuto's in which he can fall asleep easily quite early on at around 10-11pm usually , but wakes up at really early hours of the morning usually around 2-3am in the morning and can't fall back asleep ,,

they joined the basketball club because they wanted to do something that was familiar to them in this unfamiliar world

they do feel homesick, but if ever faced with a choice to go back to her world or not, kiyuu would stay. because of yuuto, and the rest of the friends she's made, and also because of the freedom of expression she has here as opposed to back home.

relationship status with canon: bffs: ace , deuce , epel , jack , ortho , sebek good friends : lilia , kalim admires (and is decently close to): vil , rook clubmates: jamil , floyd friends: cater , malleus , silver "oh thats a close friend of [an oc/canon char they're connected to in some way]": jade , idia , riddle , azul , leona , ruggie acquaintances: trey (^^ these r pretty in order btw , so the further down the list , both vertical and horizontal , the less close they r 2 the oc) :3 (^ except the first years they're just listed in order cz im lazy)

[myloveismineallmine]

Sydcarmy & Beauty and The Beast

So, The Bear is a story with many themes and messages in it. The process of creating a story a lot times is just frankenstein-ing other stories and elements you like plus your owned lived experience.

I don't really remember how I started thinking about it, I do remember it was like 3am so that definitely has something to do with it, but I started thinking about Beauty and The Beast. And then I started comparing certain elements of it with The Bear. And then I started reading the Wikipedia page for Beauty and The Beast. And then I looked at the clock and it was like 4am so I was like okay, I should sleep now actually.

I did notice a lot of interesting similarities between the two, so I wanted to compare some of them in this post here. I think it's a really interesting lens to look at the story of The Bear from.

Chapter 1: The Beast

So, while it would be cool to do some kind of role reversal with the two romantic leads, this story does not do that, and the obvious parallel for Carmy is The Beast.

Rundown of The Beast's character traits, via wikipedia:

"In the original tale, the Beast is seen to be kind-hearted for the most part, and gentleman-like, with only an occasional tendency to be hot-tempered. Disney's interpretation of the Beast made him more constantly angry and depressed, due to the shame from his unkind actions which led to his transformation, and particularly his struggle of reconciling his hideous appearance with his inner humanity which made him feel hopeless about breaking the curse. Supervising animator Glen Keane describes The Beast as "a twenty-one-year-old guy who's insecure, wants to be loved, wants to love, but has this ugly exterior and has to overcome this." Upon his reform under his love interest Belle, his personality changes to refined and more even-tempered, while naive about the world at the same time."

Obviously this isn't to shame JAW's appearance, he's a pretty attractive dude, I'm looking more at the personality traits here.

The Disney version of him is way more unhinged and animal-like, which I'm not sure perfectly fits Carmy, but I feel like the insecurity, anger and depression is pretty accurate.

I don't think the "beast" element is entirely irrelevant, however. Let's think about what the namesake of the show is: The Bear. In reference, or course, to the main family having the last name Berzatto. They do also refer to each other as "Bear."

It's Cousin Michelle who makes the connection between the Berzattos and literal bears:

When she mentions this quote someone had said to her.

Stevie likens the Berzattos to bears later on in this episode:

It's pretty clear that the Berzattos = bears. Aggressive, but also kind and emphatic.

I also want to talk about the very first scene of The Bear:

Carmy is letting the bear out of it's cage, walking slowly towards it. He says "I know" to the bear, trying to calm it, or maybe trying to empathize with it. The bear growls and attacks him, and he wakes up from the nightmare.

It's clear that the caged bear represents something in Carmy. His rage, his stress, his grief. And he can't control it, it escapes and it consumes him.

Backstory of The Beast, extremely paraphrased:

Disney version: A prince is spoiled, cold-hearted and extremely selfish. He's transformed into a hideous beast as punishment, and told he won't transform back unless he earns the love a beautiful young woman.

Fairytale version: The prince's father died before he was born, and his bio mother leaves him in the care of an evil fairy godmother. Things get weird and incesty, this was the 1700s ig, the godmother tries to seduce the prince when he's an adult. He rejects her and she curses him to become a beast and says the curse won't be broken until he receives a maiden's act of true love. There's then a lot of really irrelevant fairy-lore and other stuff that I don't really want or need to get into.

I feel like evil mother figure one might be more accurate? Especially because Donna's one of the people who gave him so much trauma that he still carries with him? Generational trauma and addiction is "a curse" in a way.

Chapter 2: The Beauty

So it's very clearly Sydney.

Beauty in the OG fairytale doesn't have a super interesting personality outside of "pretty, caring and kind." so I think we'll look more at the Disney version here:

"While the studio wanted Beauty and the Beast to resemble an old-fashioned film, the writers envisioned Belle as "a woman that was ahead of her time"."

"...  the screenwriter conceived Belle as a headstrong feminist to avoid creating another "insipid" Disney princess."

"Beauty and the Beast's story department was predominantly male. Woolverton often argued with the more traditional story artists over Belle's role and personality, but continued to be supported by Katzenberg and lyricist Howard Ashman, the latter of whom also lobbied for "a thinker and a reader" who "wasn't a victim"."

So, Belle was basically a strong and independent woman for Disney at the time. I wanna hone in more on these character traits they mention specifically.

Sydney is very intelligent, even an overthinker at times. She literally shows up to, like, week 2 of work with a full book written on how the business can be improved.

We know she's a reader. Not only from the coach K book, she also mentions lending Marcus books at some point.

I also think Sydney fits the "not a victim" criteria. Sydney is shown pretty consistently to stand up for herself and fight back in situations.

On Beauty's backstory:

In every version of The Beauty and The Beast, Beauty's a daughter to a widower (much like Sydney is.) Beauty has many siblings, most notably her evil older sisters. They are omitted from the Disney version, and Belle is an only child.

In the Disney version, Belle is well known for her beauty, but looked down upon for not conforming to more traditional feminine roles.

Being a headstrong woman of color in the very white and male dominated world of fine dining, I can see how she fits this.

Her father has doubts about her career as a chef, she has had bad experience with chefs in leadership positions before, and the crew of The Beef really looks down on her at the beginning of the series.

Chapter 3: Beauty and The Beast

So now let's talk about the actual relationship of the Beauty and The Beast.

Belle/Beauty is lured into The Beast's castle because her father is being held captive inside. And interestingly....

Sydney references her father as the reason for why she applies for The Beef.

In the fairytale, The Beast is immediately smitten with Beauty and asks her to marry him every day. That would be a very obvious HR violation in The Bear, so I think it might be better to look at the Disney version of this story.

So in the Disney version, The Beast is more annoyed that Belle and her father showed up at all, but he does know she's a pretty woman and allows the release of her father so she will be his prisoner instead.

Their relationship is pretty bad at first, like you'd expect a captor and prisoner relationship to be, but he does allow her a nice lavish room. He orders her to have dinner with him, and she refuses to leave her room to protest against him.

Carmy and Sydney were friendly at first meeting, but after The Stock Incident, their cracks really start to show. It's when Sydney really stands her ground and argues back at him. This is not the end of the arguments and tension between them.

Belle and the Beast end up getting in a fight when Belle snoops around his room. He yells at her more loudly this time, and Belle flees the castle on horseback. She gets attacked by a pack of wolves and The Beast saves her. She takes him back to the castle and nurses his wounds.

This to me matches with the final fight Sydney and Carmy have in season 1. Carmy displays the worst of his anger, and it causes Sydney to want to wipe her hands with him completely. She grabs her stuff and leaves, telling him she's quitting.

She comes back when he apologizes to her, and they have a real bonding moment when they decide to open a restaurant together.

The Beast and Belle start to have a better relationship after The Beast heals. They become more friendly, The Beast more docile, and they're both really happy for the first time in the film. There's a scene where The Beast shows Belle the castle library and tells her it's hers.

I think the equivalent would be seeing Carmy and Sydney plan the menu together. In those scenes they seem less like co-workers and more like friends. You can also tell it's one of the few things they get actual real enjoyment doing.

I think the main parallel I see for this relationship is how Carmy and Sydney improve each other. Like with Belle and The Beast, you can actually see Carmy learn how to better handle conflict and communicate more efficiently when he's placed with Sydney.

He's more vulnerable. He apologizes more. He's able to better control his temper.

There's two very concrete examples of Sydney being able to help stabilize his emotions, actually.

Sydney is quite literally "taming the beast" in Carmy. Cognitive behavioral therapy would also achieve that, but Carmy is too much of a workaholic to attend a session, so Sydney will have to do for now. They didn't have CBT in 1700s France, either, unfortunately.

I will also say that this isn't a 90 minute Disney movie, so the slow-burn will be slow-buring for awhile until we get to the actual conclusion of the fairytale.

Chapter 4: Gaston

so I have two characters in mind for this role: Richie and Marcus. But def more heavy on Richie than Marcus.

Gaston is a villain made exclusively for the Disney movie. Here's some description for him:

"In direct contrast to his adversary the Beast, Gaston is depicted as physically handsome with an unattractive personality, both physically and emotionally embodying hypermasculinity. "

"Gaston has been generally positively received by film critics, as his lack of "magic power or political influence" means that his villainy tends to resonate with audiences who often identify someone similar to him in real life, although critics regard him as a less memorable villain than some of the studio's previous efforts."

"The Huffington Post described early drafts of Gaston as "a weaselly, sort of wimpy character." In fact, Gaston was originally intended to resemble more of an annoying than antagonistic character,"

So I think Richie kind of fits the "hypermasculinity" thing, in terms of some of his mindset and sexist behaviors.

Richie, for at least the first season, really looks down on fine dining as a concept. He makes fun of Carmy and Syd for their background in it and makes snide comments about it whenever possible.

Gaston also looks down on Belle for liking books, and encourages her to live a more "simple" life with him instead.

Here's a really interesting parallel I found with these two:

Making fun of the main character's book and then throwing it away? In the intro of the story? Very interesting.....

As far as the similarity with Marcus: it begins and ends with Marcus and Gaston both having unrequited feelings for the main female protagonist.

Other than that, Richie is way more Gaston coded in the grand scheme of things. Just not as evil. I feel like he gives first-draft Gaston with being "More annoying than antagonistic."

Chapter 5: What about Claire?

I see Claire fitting into this as almost like a faux-Belle. The love interest that's supposed to "fix" the main protagonist, but something doesn't work.

Again, there's two scenes I wanna look at specifically to showcase this:

This reaction shot of Carmy. This is the last shot of the sex scene, and there are some other previous shots of the sex scene overlaying this at times. But I've been wanting to do a deep dive into it for awhile-- why have this shot? What's the purpose of it?

I think that this shot clearly tells us that Carmy is either pensive and/or dissatisfied with what has happened. Laying with his eyes open and just staring at the wall, deep in thought, possibly regretful. This isn't the expression a man who's just had sex with a pretty woman usually has. This is one of many clues that this relationship isn't something that he really wants or enjoys.

Aaaand, the panic attack scene again. If Claire was his "true love", she would be able to quell his anxiety and panic, if this whole "beauty and the beast" story arc I'm putting together is to be believed.

Claire is the perfect girl. She's pretty, smart, talented. His family loves her. She loves him. But she does nothing to fix his problems. Because it's not true love.

Carmy not being happy at the thought of Claire vs Carmy cracking a smile because he looks at containers of radichio + fennel, ingredients Sydney cooked him once.

It is ABUNDANTLY clear that his feelings for Syd help his mental state in ways his feelings for Claire do not. Because what he feels for Sydney is closer to true love.

Conclusion:

Am I saying Christopher Storer took the plot beats and characters 1 for 1 from Beauty and The Beast? No, obviously not. Am I saying that maybe he sat down one day and this movie was on and he was like "hey maybe i can do something with this"? Possibly!

This is just speculation at the end of the day, but I really loved looking at all the possible connections between these two things. Tell me your thoughts on all of this: cool interpretation or am I just talking out of my ass?