#which supplier? don't know

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

girlies I'm losing my mind.

[insomniacs-keyboard]

Bruh

[hexjulia]

'Malabathrum, malabathron, or malobathrum is the name used in classical and medieval texts for certain cinnamon-like aromatic plant leaves and an ointment prepared from those leaves. Cinnamomum tamala (sometimes given as Cinnamomum tejpata), grown most commonly in the eastern Himalayas, but also in the Western Ghats, is thought to be a notable source of these leaves,[1] although other species of Cinnamomum and even plants in other genera[2] may have been used. In ancient Greece and Rome, the leaves were used to prepare a fragrant oil, called oleum malabathri, and were therefore valuable.

[...]

The Greeks used kásia (cassia) or malabathron to flavour wine, with absinth wormwood (Artemisia absinthium). Malabathrum leaves (folia) were used in cooking and for distilling an oil used in a caraway-sauce for oysters by the Roman gourmet Gaius Gavius Apicius.[6] '

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Canonical enshittification

This is the Facebook playbook: you lure in publishers by promising them a traffic funnel ("post excerpts and links and we'll show them to people, including people who never asked to see them"), and then the rug-pull: "Post everything here, don't link to your own site. Become a commodity supplier to our platform. Abandon all your own ways of making money. Become entirely subject to the whims of our recommendation system."

Next will be: "We block links to other sites because they might be malicious."

Then some kind of "pivot to video."

Probably not video (though who knows?) but some other feature that a major rival has, which Twitter will attempt to defraud its captive, commodified suppliers into financing an entry into.

In case you were wondering, yes, this is canonical enshittification. Lure in business customers (publishers) by offering surpluses (algorithmic recommendation and an ensuing traffic funnel). Lock them in (by capturing their audience and blocking interop and logged-out reading).

Then rug the publishers, clawing back all the surpluses you gave them and more, draining them of all available capital and any margins they have, until they die or bite the bullet and leave.

I would also give good odds on this leading to a revivification of the "Pay us tens of thousands of dollars a month for a platinum checkmark and we'll actually show what you post to the people who asked to see it."

That will be pitched as the answer to publishers' complaints about not wanting to turn themselves into commodity Twitter inputs. It will be priced at the same (or more) as the revenues publishers expect to lose from being commodified, making it a wash.

All of this seems to me to be an "unfair and deceptive business practice" under Sec 5 of the FTC Act.

If I sign up to follow you because I want to see what you post, and Twitter shadowbans your posts unless they are formatted to maximize your dependence on Twitter, they have deceived me, and are being unfair to you.

This is *very* analogous to the Net Neutrality debate, where a platform blocks or deprioritizes the things its users ask to see, based on whether the suppliers of those things are its competitors.

I've written about how an end-to-end principle for social media could be enforced under Sec 5 of the FTCA, how it would address this kind of sleazy practice, how it would be easy to administer, and wouldn't form a barrier to entry for new market entrants:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

[sttm99]

CW...? Recreational drug use, swearing

Unedited. I just wanted to get this out of my drafts

"Shit!"

Sero swore loudly as he gripped his phone, eyes narrowed and glaring into the screen, before he haphazardly threw it on to the bed next to his, Bakugo's, and the edge hit the blonde on his shin.

"Fuck is wrong with you, Duct Tape?!" Bakugo yells out in anger, immediately reaching down to rub St his shin, his other hand gripping his pillow in preparation to chuck it at Sero's head.

"Dude says supply's delayed. The stuff's coming tomorrow instead." Sero groans, falling backwards unto his own pillow, unconsciously but successfully evading the pillow Bakugo threw at his head.

"Seriously?" Kaminari groans loudly.

"Fuck," Bakugo grumbles. "I'm fucking stressed, I need some shit today."

Kirishima hums in affirmation and the boys all grumble in their shared bedroom.

UA had organised a week-long trip in a nice beach house near the edge of the city, for their year, a sort of getaway to welcome in the new session. At least that was what they were told. Classes A and I were paired together for the same week, seeing as the house wasn't big enough for all the classes to use at the same time.

And due to the fact that they'd been paired with a Management Course class, the Hero students had believed the trip to be solely for relaxation, and extracurricular.

And boy, were they wrong.

They'd been training non-stop.

Even the Management course students had to partake in some exercises alongside their daily assignments. It was only day 4 and everyone was nearing their breaking point.

Which was why Sero had convinced Bakugo, Kirishima and Kaminari to pool some money together and buy some weed to take the edge of their stress.

For some reason, Sero knew a supplier and ordered a batch of 35 grams, something to get them through the rest of the week, and the boys were admittedly excited for it to come, even Bakugo, despite his haughty words of not wanting shit inside his body.

Unfortunately, the supply got delayed to the next day.

"You guys though, I know where we can get some stuff." They all turned to look at Kaminari.

And that was how they began their journey to sneak up to one of the rooms the Management course girls were occupying, specifically the one belonging to one of Kaminari's 'friends'.

"I swear, if we get caught searching for weed, I'm fucking skinning you alive, dipshit." Bakugo grumbled, hands stuffed tightly in the pocket of his sweatpants as he padded softly across the hall of the second floor, right above his own.

It was late, way too late for this. The teachers were sleeping, their classmates were sleeping, everyone was sleeping due to the stress of the week. Heck, they should have been sleeping. But no! They'd all agreed to Sero's stupid idea of drinking lots of coffee right before training so they could still be awake afterwards in order to smoke.

Bakugo huffed in frustration. Why on earth did he ever think Sero had good ideas?

"Shhh," Kaminari whispered as he paused by a door, "You don't wanna wake up the wrong people." He had his ears pressed to the wood, trying to hear movement, determining if anyone was awake.

"You hear anything?" Sero whispered, leaning atop Kaminari's body.

"Yeah," he replied before softly knocking on the door.

There was silent for a moment, before hurried hushes and loud whispers could be heard from behind the door. Kaminari grinned slyly, Sero pumped his fists in the air, Bakugo rolled his eyes, inching forward as well.

A loud thud was heard, a shake against the door, then it was hastily pulled open, revealing a tall, blonde girl, in just tiny sleep shorts and a lacy bralette that did nothing to hide her breasts.

Kirishima quickly averted his eyes at that.

The girl didn't notice, the obvious tells of a high showing on her; loopy smile and blown out pupils. She swayed against the door, "Guys..." she said, her speech drawn out, "It's boys~"

But before she could continue, she was hastily shoved to the side, a yelp coming from her lips as her body fell to the left and another arm shot out to reduce how open the door was, shielding her and what Bakugo suspected to be other, barely dressed girls.

"What do you want? It's late?" Another girl popped into the frame, you.

Dressed in a small, tight fitting shirt and large, knee length shorts, you held the door close, your body blocking the boys from being able to see inside your room.

"(Y/n)," Kaminari greeted with a grin.

You quirked up a brow, eyes scanning over the boys he'd come with. Bakugo wanted to believe your gaze had lingered longer on him, because he couldn't tear his away from you.

Your eyes were dazed as well, pupils large, and your balance was off, but you were more clear headed that the blonde girl before you, and you had your eyes narrowed at them.

"Fuck do you want, Kami?" Bakugo could tell you were trying hard not to let your speech draw, but your voice was soothing, nice. "It's late."

But he was growing impatient, and just slightly frustrated with how his friends eyed you. Not like he even had any right to be possessive.

"You got any good stuff?" Kaminari whispered lowly, eyes as wide as his grin.

You furrowed your brows, trying to feign ignorance, even though they could smell the weed under the harsh scent of perfume you'd drowned yourself in to cover your tracks.

"You know..." Sero whined. "Good stuff."

Bakugo had had enough of their beating around the bush, shoving past the two boys and placing his hands on the frame and the wooden expanse of your door. You gasped as he leaned forward, getting his face close to yours, breathing in your labored breath, and giving you a sly grin at the scent of weed pouring from your lips.

"Weed. I smell it on you. Pass us some, will ya?" He said slowly, his voice low and so close to you.

You couldn't help the purse of your lips or how your gaze just momentarily drifted to his mouth.

"You wanna buy it? It's not free." You retorted.

"We got some coming tomorrow. We'll pay back."

You narrowed your eyes, considering it. You wanted to say 'no', he could be lying. But when he spoke to you in that stupidly sexy, raspy voice, with your head light from your blunt, you couldn't help but want to do what he said.

"I got pre-rolled blunts. How many you need?" You breathed out.

"Four." He muttered.

"Five," Kirishima interjected. "Shinsou's coming too." He said when Bakugo turned back to raise his brow at him.

You took the opportunity to admire his side profile.

"You pay back 10 grams, that's 5 skinny blunts." You spoke up.

"Deal," Bakugo whipped his head back to you, licking at his lower lip.

"You pay back tomorrow."

"Wait, noo~" a voice calls out from behind the door, and a mop of black hair enters the frame, arms wrapping around your shoulders, and you turn your attention to your friend. "We're gonna be at Kento's tomorrow." She said.

You pushed her off you, distaste curling your lips. "I'll be here. You can give it to me tomorrow."

Bakugo nodded once, his eyes wandering down your legs. "That's fine. The blunts then?" He asked.

You gave him a look once more before pushing the door open a bit more and turning round to walk into the room. He could see your legs wobble as you walked, could see your ass jiggle as you moved. He bit at his lower lip.

You almost tripped as you knelt between two beds, bending your torso to the ground and reaching underneath the bed on your left, your ass lifted in Bakugo's direction, in perfect view.

He felt himself begin to harden at the sight of it. You had to be doing it on purpose, tempting him.

All too soon, you were getting back up, a small box in your hand, and you picked out five pre rolled blunts, then you were pushing the box back underneath the bed and standing up, walking back over to the door and handing Bakugo the blunts.

"Don't forget tomorrow, you hear me?" You narrowed your eyes, knowing full well you probably didn't look the slightest bit intimidating.

Bakugo smirked down at you, leaning closer just a bit, drowning you in his height, his presence, the heat radiating off his body. "'Course I won't." He turned back momentarily to hand Sero and Kirishima the blunts.

"You can leave now," You said, smirking slightly, eyes dazed and lower lip caught between your teeth.

"See you tomorrow then?" Bakugo's voice was low, teasing.

"Of course." You responded softly, shutting the door as he pushed his weight off it and began walking away.

Kaminari quickly caught up to him, his arm coming to rest over Bakugo's shoulders, his body bumping into his. "Yo, the fuck was that?" He asked, voice low as he stared at Bakugo.

Bakugo grunted in response. "What? Fuck are you talking about?"

Sero scoffed as he matched their steps. "You were all over her. I could see your dick twitching."

"Why you looking, duct tape?"

But Sero only laughed at him.

"If you're interested go for it," the boy shrugged. "She's hot."

"Shut the fuck up." Bakugo spat, "You're gonna wake everyone."

"He's just mad he didn't get to hit." Kaminari snickered over to Sero.

Bakugo watched you in passing the next day. You were even prettier in the daylight, with your hair done, and dressed in casual clothes, smile wide as you conversed with you classmates.

Sero had managed to get the weed, 35 grams early in the morning, and Bakugo had fought the boys on who would be the one to give it to you. Now, as he trained with his classmates, perfecting their quirks and working on their physiques, he couldn't help catching sight of you all the time.

While your class had to do a 5k run as a mandatory physical exercise, before heading in to have a 2 hour class, consisting mainly of assessments and scenarios, Bakugo watched you as best as he could without getting caught.

"You're distracted." Sero snickered as he walked past Bakugo, shoving his elbow into Bakugo's side. "Looking at-"

"One more word and I'll incinerate you." Bakugo snarled, pushing Sero over the back of the couch.

"Bakugo?"

He turned his head around at the feminine voice, looking down at Uraraka gazing up at him. "What is it?"

"He's right though, you have been looking distracted."

He huffed. "I'm fine."

Sero stood up, rubbing at his head, and gave them a look, then walked away.

"You know if there's anything on your mind," she began, voice soft, palm moving up on his arm. "You can tell me."

Bakugo glanced up, just in time to see you walking into the kitchen with two others from your class by your side; the busty blonde from the night before and a boy he vaguely recognised. You walked to the counter, reaching up and grabbing a box of cereal from the overhead cupboards. When you got it and dropped it back on the counter, your eyes met his, then you looked at Uraraka's palm on his arm.

"I'm fine, really." He looked down at the brunette. "I'm going to my room." He shrugged her arm off him and stood up, making his way to the stairs.

"This should be 10 grams, right?" Bakugo mumbled, as he looked at the weed, laying atop some useless piece of paper he planned to use as wrapping.

Kirishima looked over his shoulder, rulers and pencils scattered on the desk beside the weed; Bakugo's attempt at 'measuring'. The redhead shrugged. "I think so. Looks like 10 grams to me."

Bakugo huffed and quickly began wrapping the paper over the weed. "Not like she'll weigh it or anything. This is about 10 grams." He mumbled as he took out a zip lock bag from a pile at the corner of his desk, opened it up and stuffed the paper-wrapped weed inside.

He stood from his desk.

"We're smoking some today, so don't waste too much time, yeah?" Kirishima said to him as Bakugi began approaching the door. "Or we'll do it without you."

"Just go ahead without me." Bakugo said.

Sero chuckled to himself. "You wanna fuck her or drop off weed?"

The blonde boy glared. "You wanna fuck her?" He retorted. "You've had a lot to say about my thoughts on her since yesterday."

Sero only raised his hands in mock surrender, leaning back on the headboard of his desk. "Just saying, bro. And what if I do?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "She is hot."

"Whatever. I don't fucking care," Bakugo scoffed rather harshly as he pulled open the door, slowly. It was late, everyone was meant to be sleeping, though the two teachers that chaperoned the outing didn't seem to care all that much if students heeded to the bedtime.

He crept slowly up the stairs at the end of the hallway, eyes looking round the walls, feet soft and silent, the bag of weed tightly in the pocket of his hoodie. Though Aizawa and the management course teacher didn't seem all that strict, or interested in what the students got into during their free time, he didn't want to take risks.

He made it to your door easy enough, knocked softly, once, then two more times after that. His stomach tightened as the door was pulled open, the loosened, relief coursing through him at the sight of you again.

You were dressed in a pale tank top this time, and silk sleeping shorts, much shorter than the one you'd worn the night before. Bakugo thought your thighs looked amazing.

"You got the weed?" You asked him. Your voice was steadier, a bit deeper, and your eyes didn't waver the way they'd done before.

He nodded slowly, inching it out of the pocket of his hoodie. You caught sight of it and pulled your door open just a bit wider, inviting him in.

Bakugo walked into the room you were occupying, not much different from his, his eyes scanning it as you shut the door and opened your palm to him, beckoning for the weed.

"Where are your roommates?" He asked as he handed it to you.

"Snuck out. One of our classmates has a villa nearby. He's hosting a party." You mumbled, setting the bag of weed on the dresser near the door and pulling open one of the drawers.

"You didn't go with them?" He was happy you didn't, happy that your friends had left and you'd remained, here, alone with him.

"I wasn't interested. Not in good terms with the host."

Some silence for a while.

"The fuck? You're weighing it?" Bakugo's eyes widened in shock as he quickly made his way over to your side, watching as you brought out a little scale from one of the drawers, dropping the zip lock bag unto it. "Why do you even have a scale?"

"Of course I'll measure it," you smirked, hands on your hips as you watched the scale. "And I have one cause I can."

You and Bakugo leaned closer to take a good look at the calibrations at the base of the scale. You squinted slightly, lips turned downwards as you counted the thin lines, matched them with the numbers above them.

"That's like 11.5." Bakugo frowned as he looked at it. "You gotta gimme one and a half grams." He stood back up and smirked at you.

You chuckled softly, opening up the zip lock and pulling out the wrap of weed. "Lemme roll it and we'll smoke some here, huh?" You offered.

"That's extra that came out of my stash." He argued, knowing full well he wanted to share a blunt with you.

You grinned, opening up your drawer again and pulling out some rolling paper. "That you're gonna smoke. With me."

"He sounds funny."

"He's a fucking dipshit."

You laughed, passing taking the blunt from Bakugo's fingers and bringing it to your lips. He watched you, having just finished narrating to you one of Sero's stupid, stupid ideas. Bakugo watched as you brought the blunt to your mouth, wrapping your lips around it, where his own lips just were, and then inhaling.

You'd convinced him to smoke the blunt with you, pulling him to sit on your bed, the one nearest to the wall, and expertly rolling a blunt with your pretty, dainty fingers.

He'd watched them, noticed your nails, pretty, well manicured.

Now he looked up at you with his lips slightly parted, pupils blown wide and head feeling light, as you blew smoke from your lungs. You were sat up, leaning back on your hand behind you, palm on the bed, legs crisscrossed on your sheets.

He sat at the edge of your bed, legs planted on the ground as his hands ran through his blonde hair.

You giggled softly, holding the blunt to him now. "Here." Your voice came out breathy and soft.

He kept his eyes on your own as he leaned into the blunt, wrapping his lips around the edge, where your own just was, and inhaling.

"This is an indirect kiss, you know." You whispered.

He kept looking at you as he pulled away, keeping still for a moment, holding in the smoke.

"Blow it out, will ya?" You said to him, but you were leaning into his face now, weren't you?

He leaned closer, hand reaching up to cup your jaw, his lips meeting yours halfway, eyes closing. You opened your mouth against his as he blew the smoke into it.

Then you were both pulling away and you were blowing out the smoke.

"I liked that." You said softly with a smile, head tilted cutely to the side, and you were biting your lower lip.

"The weed or the kiss?" He chuckled softly, his voice so raspy and deep.

"Both."

And then he was kissing you again, eyes fluttering shut as you grabbed your waist, pulling you so you sat sideways on his lap. His tongue licked at your lips, pushing into your mouth as his hands slipped under your tank and caressed the bare skin of your stomach.

You moaned softly into his mouth as your hands came up to brush through his hair.

"Bakugo," You muttered, pulling way and moving positions.

You were straddling his lap now, your dainty, well manicured fingers gripping on to the hem of his hoodie. "This the weed, right?"

He chuckled, his palms sliding along your hips, tips of his long fingers grazing your ass. "I wanted to fuck you when I saw you yesterday, and I wasn't high then."

You licked at your bottom lip, arms wrapping around his neck. "Really? You wanna fuck?" You whispered against his cheek.

"Fuck yeah. I want you."

And then you were kissing again, slow, with so much tongue and spit, and his hands were everywhere, ravishing you. He was palming at your breasts over your tanktop, groaning and moaning, then gripping at your hips, pushing your core against his boner.

You sighed, buring your face in the crook of his neck as his fingers slipped underneath the bottom of your shorts, feeling at the bare skin of your ass, squeezing and groping at the plump flesh.

[ayeforscotland]

Hi folks,

Sorry I have to write this because I was really hoping I wouldn't. Some of you might have read me venting about boiler issues over the past 6-7 months.

Basically, our boiler was condemned by our insurance company who said they would no longer repair it, and they could offer us an *incredible* £750 towards a new boiler if we used a specific supplier. This supplier wanted to charge us £5,500 for the job, and we, naturally, didn't have £4,750 lying around to spend. So we tried British Gas who came and gave us a quote...again for over £5000 because we'd need to pay for scaffolding, and this time without the £750 towards it from the insurance. Since then our boiler has started actively leaking and my mornings start with emptying the bucket that sits underneath. As a hail Mary I tried another local supplier this week who visited us yesterday. He's quoted us for a replacement boiler at £2500 which is arguably much more manageable. Through saving up and some extremely generous donations when I first ranted about the boiler, we've managed to save £1000. We were hoping that Home Energy Scotland would be able to provide a loan to cover the remaining £1500, but they have changed their policy to exclude gas boilers, and they ruled we weren't eligible for the Warmer Home Scotland fund as we don't receive benefits. I know it's the worst time of year to ask because it's an expensive time, but if any of you happen to need anything read to you by a Scottish guy or want your Scottish character's dialogue checked, please consider commissioning me on Ko-Fi.

You can, of course, also do one-off donations or even monthly support on Ko-Fi but I like being able to offer something in return.

[covetyou]

the best of the world in the palm of our hands

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con (reader is paying a debt), pussy spanking, unprotected PIV, fingering, oral (f receiving), cumplay, anal play (blink and you'll miss it), derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap, joel miller is a massive slut word count: 4.9k chapter summary: You find a way to pay your fathers debts

A/N: pussy spanking! lets go! you know the old saying, open mind open legs.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

song: damage gets done by Hozier

Your dad had been rationing his pain meds for months, barely taking one every two days now that the world had gone to shit and they were so much harder to come by - and so much more expensive as a result. Lean times were made leaner still by missed shifts and slow work, which meant for even fewer pills to ration out.

Eventually, you would listen, night after night, as he groaned and writhed in pain, meds long gone. Nights like that meant another missed shift, fewer ration cards, and the ever looming threat of debtors coming to collect on what was theirs.

That was the situation that had brought you here, to his door. Desperation, and a debt needing to be paid.

Your knock on the door sounds sharp in the silence of the hallway. You're in a "nicer" part of the QZ - the apartment block cleaner and less crammed full of bodies than others. Here there are fewer people to care, fewer people to see. Fewer people to hear you scream.

The door in front of you suddenly flies open and you wretch you head around, straightening your back. You'd told yourself you'd play it cool, but already you were failing.

Joel Miller, self appointed pharmacist, medication supplier, drug dealer, stands before you. He's tall and broad, taking up almost the entire doorway as he rests one hand on top of the frame. He ticks one hip to the side and tucks his fingers through his belt loops.

You'd seen him from a distance, people pointing with whispers of "that's him", but never up close. Flecks of gray dance around the scruff on his jaw, his dark brown eyes wrinkling as he assesses you. The firm expanse of him so much more intimidating from this distance, you square yourself before you speak.

"I -" you begin, but he immediately cuts you off.

"I don't do business in the hallway," he drawls. "This is business, right?" he quirks a dark eyebrow at you.

You nod, all words snatched from your brain. You'd never heard him before - his southern drawl sounding cocky as he sizes you up, standing meek and mild in the corridor.

"S'always business. Come in then, sweetheart," he says, barely moving his body from blocking the doorway for you to squeeze past him. You push yourself against the door frame as much as possible so you don't drag your body along his.

The living room of his apartment is bigger than the entire place you share with your father. As far as you can tell, Joel lives here alone.

The door slams shut behind you, and heavy footsteps walk past you. Joel picks up a bottle and a single glass, pouring himself two fingers of whisky before setting the bottle back down and taking a sip. You knew you would be vulnerable, coming here alone, but you hadn't taken into account feeling trapped.

"So, what y'here for?"

"M-my dad, he's -"

"I know who your dad is, sweetheart. Seen you together. He owes me. Ain't heard from him in a few weeks. I asked what you're here for, not about your dad."

"Yeah," you nod, trying to feign confidence, "Yeah well, that's why I'm here. He needs more medicine."

"What I gave him weren't medicine, it ain't fixin' shit. I gave him pain relief. That's it."

"Well, he needs more. He's out, and he's hurting, and he can't work - " you ramble, but he cuts you off again.

"Now, sweetheart," he raises a finger to stop you. "I don't see why I should be giving you, or him, anythin'. I owe you nothin', and from where I'm standing, you're the one who owes me. Two weeks worth, right?"

Your eyes go wide. You were hoping he'd make it easier than this - go easy on you because you were a girl and you were here alone. You were hoping to play on his heartstrings, but you were starting to realise that maybe he didn't have one.

His glass thunks down on the table.

He circles you like a predator circles its prey, looking you up and down, assessing for weakness. You stare straight ahead, unwavering as possible.

He stops in front of you, tall and foreboding, before tilting your chin up with a single finger.

"You got the cards for that?"

You shake your head no.

He clicks his tongue, smiles, and says, "That's a damn shame". You have a feeling he doesn't think that at all.

"Dad's been hurting too much, he can't work, we haven't been able to get the cards, I've been trying I - "

"Looks like you'll have to do then," he shrugs, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he leans back against his dining table. "Show me what you can pay me with."

You'd never done this before - well, that was a bit of a lie. You'd done something like this, once, before, with someone else, someone different, someone who probably couldn't hurt you in the ways the massive figure of Joel Miller could hurt you.

You take two small steps toward him, and move to lower to your knees - you'd heard men like him accepted this mode of "payment" all the time - but he grabs your arm in one giant hand before you can make your descent.

You balk at him, "Wha - "

"I don't want a half-hearted blow job, sweetheart," he licks his lips and his thick fingers tug at the hem of your too big t-shirt. "Why don't you take this off. Show me what you can pay me with."

The implication was clear - he didn't want anything you could give him, but you had plenty he could take. Your breath hitches, but you don't let yourself hesitate for long.

Swallowing thickly, you yank your t-shirt over your head and dump it on the floor beside you in one swift action. You're painfully aware that your bra is the least flattering thing you could possibly be wearing - it's soft and old and entirely shapeless, but you weren't expecting to be stripping off for him. You shouldn't even care what he thinks of you but it'd been so long since anyone had seen your bare skin that even this twisted exchange felt like you should've made more of an effort.

You stare directly ahead, not daring to meet his eyes as heat flares in your cheeks. He stalks back to the table and picks up his whisky. You watch him raise it to his lips before he notices you looking. You haven't moved.

He's on you in an instant, grabbing your face, squeezing your cheeks with force as he directs your eyes to his. The heat still burns through your face, but you feel it start to snake traitorously down your spine.

"I said, show me or do you want me to fuckin' rip the rest off you."

Nodding, you scramble to remove the rest of your clothing. It's not sexy, why fucking would it be, and you fumble with the buttons on your pants longer than you'd like, but eventually you're stood entirely nude for him in his apartment.

A puff of air huffs out if his nose and his face twitches as he appraises you like some kind of show cattle. You don't know if he likes what he sees, but that traitorous drip of warmth down your spine hopes that he does. You can trick yourself into thinking it's because he might go easier on you if he likes you, but the longer you stand there under his gaze the more you don't want him to go easy on you.

"You are a pretty thing," he says, rubbing the scruff of his beard. "I think you got just the thing I need to let your dad off the hook, don't you? Might even throw something else in to sweeten the deal if you're extra good." He strokes your hair, and you try to hold back a shudder of arousal. Maybe he'll think it's fear, and maybe it is. Maybe it's both.

"How's that sound?" he prompts as he laces his fingers through your hair and tugs.

You look at his face, his eyes are dark, darker than before, the way he's looking at you makes that traitorous drip into a flood. "Okay."

He wordlessly grunts as he tugs your hair some more and pushes you toward a door on the otherside of the room, making you walk ahead of him.

Even with his hand in your hair, guiding you, your feet move of their own accord. You want to object, refuse, but you can't. You want this. You want a man like Joel - big, protective, in control - to pay you any attention. Whatever the cost.

One final nudge of your head and you stumble into the room as he releases you.

His bedroom is sparse, as expected. Interior decor went to shit with the end of the world, and Joel didn't seem like the kind of man who would've cared about that before anyway.

You stand at the foot of his bed looking down at your toes as they bunch and un-bunch in the carpet. You hear him come in and close the door. If you weren't trapped before you definitely are now. You don't look up at him, you can't, so your eyes remain fixed at your feet when his step into view.

"You ready to get on the bed for me, sweetheart?" His hand strokes gently across the swell of your breast as he talks to you. It's the first time he's really touched you and the flood down your spine has now gathered into a slick pool between your legs.

You do as you're asked sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling even smaller now as he towers over you. You could have been 8 feet tall and still felt small and vulnerable in this moment, Joel Miller cascading above you fully clothed.

A large hand rests on your shoulder, a gentle pressure pushing you to fall back to the mattress below.

"You lay back now. Relax."

You try not to scoff but you can't help it.

"Ain't goin' to hurt you. What good would that do me. I like my customers alive."

You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself with your back flush to the mattress, looking at him as he still hulks above you. You can do this. He'll just... take what he wants. And you'll let him. Then you'll be on your way.

He's still standing above you as he directs you. "Good girl. Now open your legs for me. Lemme see."

You take another deep breathe, hold, and exhale, opening your legs for him just a fraction.

"I'm a patient man, sweetheart, but when I tell you to do something, you fuckin' do it," he growls as he kicks your legs open further. You spread them even wider, wanting to keep on his good side. You're completely exposed and bare for him now. Everything is on display and he still towers over you, looking down at your naked form on his bed.

"Fuckin' beautiful," you think you hear him mutter as he moves to a crouch between your spread thighs. You hold your breath, tensing and try not to clamp your legs shut at his inspection.

"I'm just lookin', sweetheart," Fingers rub calming circles over the softness of your thighs and your legs twitch.

"Keep your fuckin' legs spread," he says with a sharp slap to your thigh. Gasping at the shock, you push your legs to spread as wide as they can. You feel obscene, so open for him and his hand strokes the spot he'd just struck, soothing it.

You were beginning to see how this would go - do exactly as he said and he'd be gentle. Disobey, or be slow on the uptake (patient man my ass) and you'd soon feel the sting of punishment. The thought of that makes you clench around nothing, and you curse under your breath as it's surely now drawn attention to just how wet you are.

You stare up at his yellowed ceiling and hear a chuckle from between your legs - he definitely fucking knows. You don't dare to look down, you just want him to get on with it, until suddenly fingers come dangerously close to your sex and pull you apart, spreading your bare cunt even more for him.

"Well, you're a pretty little thing," he says to your pussy.

The fingers, his thumbs you realise, massage up and down the sides of you, avoiding any direct touch to your folds, but massaging the flesh in such a delicious way that you can't help but feel it right where you need it most.

Joel hums as he moves to his knees, getting closer to your spread cunt, still rubbing his thumbs up and down the sides of you, gradually moving closer and closer to the center of your sex until he's dragging the tips of both thumbs through your wetness and up to the sides of your clit.

You take another deep breath and try to muffle your whimpers with pursed lips, trying to hold back a moan.

"She's likin' that," you hear the amusement in his voice, "I wonder if she'll like this." He moves one of his slicked thumbs directly above your clit and begins to gently stroke. Your hips jerk, unsure if it's toward or away from the pressure of his thumb.

"Oh, she does," and he applies more pressure, circling torturously around your nub as his other hand continues to explore your folds in gentle strokes, parting your opening with two fingers occasionally to see the wetness gathering there, to see how ready for him you are.

"You ever touch yourself like this?" he's talking to you again now, not your cunt.

"N-no," you stutter, as his thumb keeps its languid pace on your clit.

"You don't touch yourself? Y'look well old enough to have done this before."

"No, I-I do, just... not. Not like this."

Joel hesitates for just a moment, fingers stilling, before continuing on. "You like it though." It's not a question. "Tell me how you touch yourself." That wasn't either.

"I don't - I. Fuck," you hiss. You try to relax your grip on the sheets, but his rough thumb on your clit is distractingly good. "I - rub," you pant out.

"With fingers?"

"No," you squeeze your eyes shut. You can't say you expected much from this visit, but telling a stranger how you get yourself off in the dark of the night definitely was not on your list.

"Againstapillow," you mumble, a soft moan being pulled from shortly after as he increases the frequency of his circles on your clit.

"So you're a sweet girl whose sweet pussy only knows soft things?" he hums in thought. "Anything ever been in here?" his index finger circles around your opening, slick now dribbling out of you and being spread around by his thick finger. You must glisten.

You gulp down a sigh. "I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're getting at."

"That's good," he chuckles. "Can't imagine you'd want your first to be like this. Of course a pretty little slut like you has had somethin' in here before." His finger circles more around your hole, barley dipping inside as his well practiced thumb swipes firmly over your swollen clit.

Two thick fingers suddenly plunge into your dripping cunt with ease, stretching you. You pull back with the shock, trying to shuffle up the bed and away at the sudden intrusion, pulling his fingers from you. His hands grip your thighs, anchoring you down and pulling you back toward him.

"Did I say you could fuckin' move?" You shake your head. You didn't even mean to move. It felt good, it shouldn't feel fucking good, you were just surprised.

slap

You hear it before you feel it - a wide hand colliding bluntly with your exposed cunt, sending a sharp stinging, buzzing sensation straight back up your spine. You think your brain shuts off entirely for a second before you gasp for air.

"I know you wanna be good for me. You wanna do right by your sick old dad, right? Help him out of a tough spot?"

His entire palm engulfs your mound with ease, covering you completely as he massages his fingers side to side, easing the sting and jerking your clit in a way that has you rolling your hips and biting back a moan.

"Try getting away again and I'll give your worse than that," you push your pelvis toward him at his words. You really try not to be obvious in your disappointment, you want to be good, but you want it. You want worse. And you know he knows. "But be a good girl and I'll give you exactly what you want. That's why you're here, ain't it?"

Before you can answer he delivers several quick light smacks to your bare pussy. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough send the vibrations through you and straight to your struck clit. He removes his hand to look at your quickly reddening pussy before returning to smack you some more. You gasp, trying desperately to keep still and not moan at the building sensation he's pulling from you - you shouldn't be enjoying any of it at all, let alone this, but fuck you are. There's nothing violent about the way his hand is striking your naked cunt, the light slaps against you turning you on, zinging through you like a tuning fork being tapped on a hard edge.

You hear another laugh from between your legs.

"You've only been givin' it to her soft, sweetheart, when she's just crying out to have it rough."

He spanks your pussy again, this time you can't help the moan that escapes you, your back arching into his quick slap slap slap against your cunt. The speed of his palm slows, but the force increases, drawing obscene noises from you with each blow.

"Uh," the breath huffs out of you with each firm smack to your swollen cunt.

His hand pulls off of you and he spreads you wide again before a warm wet sensation draws up from your fluttering hole to your tender clit in a broad stroke. He's soothing your pussy with soft licks when he latches onto your clit and suckles gently before pulling back to look up at you.

"I like 'em pink like this," he mumbles around your clit, "You're bein' so good takin' it for me."

He's holding your thighs obscenely wide as his tongue lathes your clit, wrenching you open as you wiggle beneath him. You are so close, on the absolute precipice and moments from tipping over the edge, when he pulls from you completely, spreading your cunt open with an his thumbs for inspection once more. The man fucking loves looking at you.

"Look at her twitchin'. I think she likes being spread wide for me, look how wet she is." He dives in for another broad lick, slurping as he goes.

"It's just dripping outa you," he breathes. You feel the warm trickle of wetness drip its well worn path from your pussy and down between the cleft of your cheeks. His finger trails it, and you take in a sharp pull of air when the pad of his finger strokes your tight asshole, spreading your slick across it and causing your legs to twitch closed a fraction once again.

slap. You feel the sting and its aftershocks buzz through you before you hear it. "Keep 'em," slap, "fuckin'," slap, "open!" He soothes your pussy with his full hand again and you moan into him, fisting the sheets at your sides.

"Won't go there today. But don't think I'll be feelin' so generous next time." Next time. He rubs and squeezes your pussy, and you rock your hips into his palm, desperate for more anything.

"You likin' this?" he murmurs, his words almost sounds tender -

- Until another slap rings against your bare sodden skin.

"Answer me."

"Y-Yes!" you gasp out with the next spank to your oversensitive cunt. "Yes, please - I - fuck - please I need to -" slap slap slap slap

Your mind goes blank as a series of slaps are delivered straight to your pussy. A groan is pulled deep from your chest and you spread your legs more for him, pushing into his palm as it rains its gentle smacks down onto you.

"You're goin' to come, ain't you?" he growls out, his smacks getting quicker.

You nod frantically, so fucking close, you shouldn't be so close from this but you are. You're just about to beg for something more, anything more, when the smacks against your pussy get even quicker, and quicker, until he's rubbing frantically at your clit, so swollen from his attention that you practically scream at the sensitivity.

Your orgasm tears through you, drawing a deep guttural sound right from your belly. Your back arches, your dripping hole so neglected as it grips around nothing.

"Fuck," he grinds out from below you, stuffing two fingers quickly into your pussy to feel you grip around them as you rock through your orgasm. You can't see him do it, white blaring across your vision, but you hear the hiss of his breath as he pulls his cock out from his pants.

You whine when he pulls his fingers from your cunt, stroking himself with the slickness of you. He stands and presses himself between your legs, hot and heavy.

"You want it here?" he says, grinding the heft of his cock against your spent cunt. "'Cause you're making a mess, drippin' all over my sheets without me to plug you up." You're in a daze as you nod, still floating from the intensity of your orgasm as you stare dumbstruck at his rock hard length for the first time. It's so big.

It's too big.

"W-wait, it's too bi- "

"Fuckin' look. Watch as I fuck this into you sweetheart," he growls as he feeds the tip of his cock into you anyway, the solid width of him stretching more than you have ever been before, but your wetness letting him slide right in. He fucks the tip in and out, and you watch him do it.

In previous years you'd had nothing more than clumsy fumbles with men, some drunken, but most just uncaring one night stands with promises of more. There was never more. One way or another you were being used, but this time, and for the first time, you could call it what it was. There was no illusion of care here as Joel took what he wanted and made you watch.

And you liked that. You liked being used by him. You liked letting him do anything he wanted to you.

"I want you to watch her swallow me darlin'. Keep your eyes right there," he pushes his hips forward, the pressure of him filling you immense, and he groans as your cunt gives way to him and swallows him whole. "There she goes. Such a good little pussy for me."

"Keep lookin'," he groans again as he retreats from you only to fuck his full length back inside of you in one swift movement, "You look or I send you out of here jus' like this. See how the locals treat a naked slut in broad daylight."

Your cunt pulses with the threat, and Joel notices. He cocks his brows at you, still relentlessly fucking into you. "Oh, she likes that. You like bein' a slut, huh?"

Fuck yes, you want to scream, but instead you nod meekly, still watching him fuck you, obsessed with the sight of his cock disappearing into you over and over again.

"Good fuckin' girl."

Never once does he lean down to steal a kiss, or swipe his tongue across your bare nipple. You're naked for him but he does nothing with it except pound into your flesh, using your cunt to get himself off. His eyes flit between where he's disappearing into you and your eyes, watching with a sneer as they roll back into your head with each knock to your cervix.

"Fuu-uuck." He's hammering into you now, hips smoothly pounding your pelvis, when he grabs one of your arms and flips you onto your side, pushing your knee up so high it's practically by your ear. He slams back into the hilt again, rocking you back as you moan out wantonly around his cock.

From this angle his cock drags across you in ways you've never felt. You'd seen trees being felled as a kid, a wedge being hammered into a cut far too small to fit. You felt like you were being split, just like those trees.

"Ah - uh, I, Joel, please, I -" tears are in your eyes from how good it feels, the dull throb of the impact into your cervix melting your insides.

Joel brings one of his legs up beside you on the bed, the other planted firmly on the floor, giving himself leverage to fuck so deep and hard into you that the air is knocked out of you for a moment. When you can finally take another breath, you're screaming for him, your pussy creaming around him from the endless pounding.

The sloppy wet sounds of your cunt accepting his battering over and over are eventually taken overby moans being ripped from your throat. His belt rattles about his waist with each smack of his hips into yours, you can feel the metal of his buckle, bitingly cold against your skin.

"That's it - fuck - you just fuckin' take - it. You take this cock." You can feel his balls draw up and his cock twitch inside you as he gets close to bursting. He fucks you relentlessly anyway, desperately holding back as long as he can, until he can hold no more.

He drags his cock sharply from your used cunt, throwing you back onto your back on his mattress. His large hand grips his cock and he jerks it over you.

"Oh fuck yeah, fuck yeah," he's practically chanting as he jerks himself, letting out a deep stuttery groan when he finally comes, spurting hot cum all over your soft thighs, belly, chest.

He doesn't aim, he doesn't care where he gets it, the action more akin to a dog pissing on a tree to mark its territory than anything else.

The only noise in the room when Joel's shoulders finally relax are your twin heavy breaths, punctuated by light whines that you just can't help. You're so overstimulated that when his hand comes down to your thigh, you don't realize that he's smearing his cum into you until he's rubbing it into your belly, spreading it across the peaks of your tits, up your neck and across your cheek.

He gives you a light tap on the face. "Look at me," he says, swiping a come coated finger across your lips. You're entirely fucked out, all you can do is look dumbly at him, totally cockdrunk.

"What do you say?"

"I... wha-..." you know what he means when he raises his eyebrows threateningly once again. "Th-thank you."

"That's right."

Suddenly he's yanking you up into a seated position and the blood rushes to your head. Another tug, the world spins, and you're on your feet, but you can barely trust your legs. He drags you from the room and before you know it your own clothes are in your arms, the remains of his come dribbling down your body.

"Get dressed," he stands with his arms crossed, looking at you, expectant.

You stare for a moment, totally lost in his dark eyes, before moving to get your clothes back on. You are still covered in his come, your pussy still buzzing from his spanking. At some point, he tucked his cock back into his pants. You didn't even notice, and you try to push down the disappointment of not getting to see it one last time.

Pulling your clothes back on with skin sticky from sweat and come isn't easy, but you eventually manage. When you stuff your feet into your shoes, he grabs you by the arm and drags you toward the door, unlatching it and pushing you toward the exit.

"I'll consider your debt paid," he murmurs into your hair from behind, pushing you out of his apartment a second later.

"Oh and, catch," he throws something to you but you miss, barely even turning in time at his words. It rattles as it hits the ground. Pills.

"Told you I'd give you something if you were good." Confirmation that you were good for him is all you need to feel another gush of wetness between your thighs. You feel like you could come again from his words and the rough feeling of your panties against your abused cunt.

"What do you say?" he asks again.

"Thank you."

He smirks before closing the door in your face.

You lick your lips as you walk away down the empty corridor tasting Joel Miller for the first time, pills in hand and debt paid.

He never even kissed you.

next part

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[grandlinedreams]

|| i regret nothing I need Cooper Howard viscerally both pre and post Ghoulification

|| notes: semi Canon compliant, spoiler-ish for end of s1, semi-shifting pov, Lucy is adorable but baby girl you will be chewed up and spat out pls grow more spine, Dogmeat has never done anything wrong ever, godbless Cooper having a southern accent bc that's my accent, yeah, gonna do a sequel to this and a prequel on Coop and reader's first meeting, ok bye

|| warnings: weapons supplier!reader, couple of allusions to cannibalism, reader is not specifically gendered, NSFW ㅡ fingering/touching

“Where are we going?”

Not for the first time today, or even the last week, Cooper questions why he's letting the Vaultie (“Lucy,” she informs him primly, “my name is Lucy.”) tag along. The dog, at least, is a good, reliable companion. Dogmeat trots dutifully at his side, her tail wagging as he stops to glare at Lucy.

“Supplies, Vaultie,” he tells her, relishes the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Need supplies or we'll both be knee deep in shit.” He pauses. “More than we already are.” 

She mumbles something he doesn't care to catch as he resumes walking, rolling his eyes as he adjusts his hat. He knows he could stand to be a little more sympathetic with the bombshell she's still dealing with, but he can't bring himself to ㅡ not when his daughter might still be alive out there, somewhere. (And his ex-wife, who he's pointedly trying to not think about too much.) 

Lucy is blessedly quiet for a good while, all the way until they get closer to where they're going. Cooper doesn't need that piece of shit vault-tec device on her arm to know where he is, but Lucy says it anyways.

“It's a town,” she mumbles at the cluster of ramshackle buildings, surrounded by the clustering of trees so much like Filly ㅡ but isn't. “Is thisㅡ”

“Yes,” he answers, “now shut it and walk.”

Lucy huffs. “I don't know if you've realized neither of us have means to pay for anything,” she protests, “but the general rule ofㅡ” 

“Vaultie.” If looks could kill, she'd be six feet under. He's never had much patience, but she’s already reached the bottom of it and keeps digging. “Shut the fuck up about your goddamn rules. If you haven't noticed, nobody up here gives a damn about playing by what's wrong and what's right.” He gives her a meaningful look. “Now if you don't want me to leave your ass to whatever comes along next, you'll be quiet and let me handle it.” 

Lucy's mouth shuts with an audible click, and Cooper turns on his heel to resume walking, Dogmeat at his heels. 

Like Filly, the center of buildings bustle with the day to day of so many others, the cacophony of animal sounds along with chatter ㅡ Cooper spares Lucy a brief glance to watch her struggle to keep up and scoffs to himself, shaking his head as he continues.

He knows where he's going, a little shop shoved between two others, narrow but deeper than the other two, because he's been here before. Several times, actually. Which accounts for the familiarity with which he strolls over the threshold and leaves Lucy and Dogmeat to follow. 

There's the jingle of what might be a bell over Lucy's head when she follows, blinking at the interior. Neat and tidy, or at least as much as can pass for such things on the surface ㅡ rows of weapons and other assorted things on shelves and stands. 

Lucy watches The Ghoul rap his fist on the counter. “I know you're here,” he calls, “you never leave this damn place!”

She expects whoever it is to come scuttling out with the tone of voice he uses and being as accustomed to his rougher attitude, and she listens to the clatter of something further in the shop.

“If that's your greeting nowadays,” comes the answer, “you can fuck off.” 

To Lucy’s surprise, The Ghoul husks a laugh instead of offering another threat. Footsteps approach, and Lucy blinks at the person who rounds the corner. 

“You,” you accuse, finger almost into his chest, “thought I told you I was done dealing with you if you couldn't work on your manners.” 

Lucy stares, and watches as you turn towards her and raise an eyebrow, eyeing her with unrestrained curiosity, then at Dogmeat. “A vaultie and a dog,” you say, then glance back at The Ghoul. “So, taking in strays, huh?”

The Ghoul grimaces. “Guess so.” He clears his throat. “Need supplies again, sweetheart.”

“Figured as much,” you say, arms folding across your chest. Lucy decides she likes you, because you're standing up to him ㅡ and he's letting you. “Take it you have no way of paying, again.”

Lucy wants to tell The Ghoul I told you so, because he can shit on all her little rules all he likes but the surface still deals in keeping the scales balanced. You have to eat too, so it's fair that you're expecting payment in the nonexistent caps they have. The Ghoul, on the other hand, tries a different route. 

“Oh come on now sugar,” The Ghoul wheedles, tone almost what could be considered as sweet. Playing at a gentleman for the way he leans against the cobbled together counter, even goes as far as to take his hat off and place it down. “Don't be like that.”

“Don't you sugar me,” you counter with an attitude that honestly startles Lucy for both the lack of genuine bite or answering hostility from The Ghoul. This isn't the first time you've met, she realizes, and is also quietly a little horrified to register that this almost sounds like flirting. “You're a pain in the ass, you know that?”

The Ghoul almost grins. “At least I'm consistent. Besides, you know you miss me when I'm gone.” 

You snort, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. Lucy feels a tiny bit uncomfortable with the atmosphere, like she's watching something she shouldn't be privy to. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you answer, bustling around to shove several fabric wrapped packs into his chest and giving him a meaningful look. “You owe me.” 

It's definitely flirting now, Lucy notes as The Ghoul's face lights up in a way that's still entirely human, tracking your movements with something far softer than anything she's ever seen from him. 

The turn towards her and head jerk to her and Dogmeat is as clear as dismissal as she's ever seen, to make herself scarce ㅡ so she does, but not before she catches the peripheral glimpse of the way you let him reach for you, almost melting into him for the way he moves to undoubtedly murmur something. 

That something is not the sweet words of a long time lover, but it's probably about as close as you're going to get with things the way they are.

 

“Anyone causin’ you trouble lately?” 

You roll your eyes. “Besides you?” He gives you a look, and you shake your head. “No, and even if there was, you know I can handle myself.” You turn to throw him a teasing look over your shoulder. “Don't tell me you're getting soft on me, old man.” 

It's Cooper's turn to snort, even as he moves to follow you. There's a sort of peace to watching you sort through boxes of shell casings and bottles of powder, letting his gaze drift over your body. 

When you turn, he doesn't even bother to hide the way he's watching you, and you arch an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he returns. “Can't I admire you?”

You roll your eyes. “I'm too expensive for you, Cooper.” It's a playful taunt, one that incites a little flare of something in his eyes as he approaches, the jingle of his spurs as he comes to loom over you, cages you in against the shelves of “inventory”. 

“Really now,” he drawls, leans in, eyes predatory dark. A lifetime ago, you might have been scared. But the wastelands made no qualms about beating fear out of people just as quick as it snuffed out life all together. “Here I was thinkin’ I might get a discount.” He reaches, thumbs at your bottom lip with his gloved digit. “What's the askin’ price, sweetheart?” 

This close, he smells like the wastelands and sunbaked leather, with a little bit of blood ㅡ but you don't mind. Never have, not sure you ever will. Not when it comes to him, anyways.

He's a dangerous man. A man with a reputation that's well-earned, spoken in hushed whispers and anything but nice. But you let him slot a leg between yours, lean in, press his lips to your hair. You smell like gunpowder and hot metal, grease stained fingertips and more than a couple bruises and scars for your efforts. 

Sometimes Cooper contends with the idea he might need you just as much as he needs that chem that keeps him sane. Admits it here and there, quietly to himself when he wanders in, squashes it down that he makes the trips sometimes just to make sure you're still alive. Not like he'd know if you were, till he sees you. Not sure what he'd do if he someday came up and found you gone. No note, no goodbye ㅡ quick and quiet, the cruelty of the wastelands.  

“Didn't answer my question, darlin’.” He mumbles, lips to your cheeks now. Soft skin, kept carefully with rationed doses of radaway and a healthy heap of keeping your cute little self out of business that doesn't involve you. “Come on, I asked you real nicely.” 

You hook your fingers in the loops of his belt, pull him closer. He can feel the jump of your heartbeat under his lips, now at your jawline. A soft, shaky inhale. Selfishly, he wants to keep you. Steal you away, greedy to keep you for himself. Hates the idea of whatever scum that rolls in that you have to deal with on your own. You can handle yourself, he knows that. 

Doesn't stop that little piece of him that's still truly Cooper Howard from worrying. But he knows better than to think he can protect you, because he can't. So he does what he can.

Your skin is soft under his teeth, forgiving to the nip of them, the blooming blossom of pink that reminds him of strawberries. The noise you make is just as sweet, and he wonders if you'd taste like that, too. 

“I'm waiting,” he prompts between little nips, mouth curving against your flesh when you grip at him tighter. There's a lot he could do to you, and not a lot you wouldn't let him. “Don't tell me this big ol’ cat’s got your tongue, little songbird.” 

Your lips part, and he expects either a sparky response or a soft plea for what this is tilting towards, partaking of something far softer than anything he's used to nowadays ㅡ  but you’ve always had a taste for throwing him for a loop, and you do it now. 

“Take me with you.” 

That snaps him out of his little hazy, touch-greedy daze, enough that he pulls away to look at you properly. “Repeat that?”

“You heard me.” You tug at the loops of his belt, eyes steely, expression firm. “Take me with you. Tired of this shitty little outpost. Figure it's time to move before I get myself into trouble I can't get out of.”

Cooper laughs. “Think you're runnin’ straight into that fire by askin’ what you're askin’, sweet thing.” A warning and a plea, mixed mish-mash in his words. Part of him wants you to stay here. Concrete, much as it can be, where he knows where you are. Other part says it'd be easier to watch your back if he saw it all the time. 

“That's not an answer, Cooper.” 

He snorts, softens at the edges again, a little sadder as he reaches to stroke your jawline, leans to bump his forehead to yours ㅡ radiation warm against radaway cold. “Wanna make sure you know what you're asking for, darlin’. I ain't your babysitter. Got my own shit to do.”

“I know.” There's that fire in your voice, the kind he loves and hates at the same time. “Wasn't asking for you to babysit me.” 

He swallows roughly. Lets his hands drift up your sides, tug at the tuck of your shirt, underneath to drag sun-worn leather against the soft skin of your abdomen. Relishes the way you shiver, leaning into his touch. “Can't promise nothin’, you know that.” 

Your smile promises the same kind of heartbreak his own words do, the kind rooted in the reality that the world doesn't deal in any absolute but death, and sure as shit won't give happy endings. Not anymore. “I know.” 

Cooper can't think of what to say to that, at least anything he's ready to, so he kisses you. Your lips are too soft against his, the warmth of your mouth reigniting that greedy, needy, human thing inside him. He pulls, digs his fingers into your soft, pliant skin, and he takes.

Takes what you willingly give him, hand over hand with nothing but that pretty little smile of yours. He muffles your gasp as he wedges his leg a little firmer, coaxes the part of your legs with a rough husk of, “just like that, dollface,” and delights too much in the sound of you moaning for him.

Hushed, quiet enough that there's no reason for Dogmeat or Lucy to come back yet (he doesn't know what they're up to nor does he really fuckin’ care at the moment), he lets himself indulge in the pleasure of your body against his. The sweet little sounds, half-gasped as he mouths at your neck, hitched to something almost like music as his hands wander. 

Pauses long enough to bite at the tip of his glove and tug, one then two, the bare, radiation scarred wander of his fingers over your body. It's selfish, the way he covets every little twitch and jump of your muscles, the choked gasp as he guides you into rocking against his leg. 

“You're so sweet for me, sugar,” he coos, syrupy as he picks you apart meticulously, piece by piece. Fingers still far too good at what they do when he replaces his leg with the press of them against you, remnants of a past life for how well he gets you to whimper his name. “Like ambrosia.” 

His fingers stroke, deceptively gentle, working over your slick, too-hot, achy skin until you’re panting and gripping at him, pleading for a relief only he can give you. And that’s exactly how he wants you, where all you can see and think of is him. 

The expression you make when he finally lets you come might truly be the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a very long time. Headier than the Jet, dizzying and making him swear as he jerks his clothed hips against yours, breath sharp in his chest. 

“Gonna be the death of me, I swear.” He bites at your neck, digs a little harder, scrapes his canines into your sweet, yielding flesh. He could devour you, take bite after sweet, sweet bite and actually test that theory about the strawberries. Crack the cage of your rib, feast on that beating yolk of heart that thumps so hard in your chest. 

“Gonna let me do it, sweet thing?” He rumbles against your ear. “Let me have it all?” 

Your eyes flash, lips pretty and swollen as they part to answer ㅡ and the bark of that damn mutt ruins it all. At least it's a warning for you both, because he's stepping back and letting you fix yourself with surprising speed as Lucy and Dogmeat return, an expectant look on the fuckin’ vaultie's face. 

“Well? Got what you need?"

Cooper snorts, tracks you instead of answering as you press your hand to his for a second, gone around the corner. Lucy frowns when you return, pistol strapped at your hip and a bandolier slung over your shoulder like his, broad pack strapped to your back. Like you planned for this.

And you did, he notes, but it hadn't been contingent on his agreement. Idly, he notes he never did answer you, not really. But he just hums, then turns towards Lucy, who looks between the two of you, confused. 

“Yeah,” he finally answers, “got what I need.”

[writingquestionsanswered]

How do I plot a romance story?

Most advice and plot structures I have found seem to be focused on quest-type stories. Do you have any advice or templates that are mpre easily applicable to romance stories? Do I need to include another major plotline?

Basic Romance Structure

Like most stories, there are different theories and methods about structure, and you can find these by Googling "romance story structure." However, let me walk you through a basic romance structure to show you the differences and similarities with the kind of structure you'd use for something like a quest story or an adventure story.

Introduction/Normal World - Like most stories, romance stories usually open with a peek at the protagonist's "normal world" as a means of introducing who they are and what their life is like. And, as with other stories, this also introduces us to the both characters' internal conflicts. In romance, rather than resolving the internal conflict with growth in relation to the story events, the internal conflict will be resolved via change/growth in relation to the romance. [Example: Sandi is a florist with a four-year-old daughter, navigating single parenthood after her husband filed for divorce and ran away to chase a dream.]

The "Meet Cute" - This is essentially the inciting incident... the moment the two characters meet for the first time, or the first time in a long time. All in one moment, we see how undeniably right they are for each other, but due to their individual internal internal conflicts, they're butting heads big time.

[Example: Sandi meets Brent, the new flower supplier who is adorable, sweet to Sandi's daughter, but infuriatingly inept at doing things the way she likes them.]

Forced Proximity - After the "meet cute," something will inevitably force them to spend time together. They get partnered together on the same job, stuck together in the same place, keep coincidentally bumping into each other... whatever. All that matters is that they're forced to get to know each other despite their head butting.

[Example: they get roped into working together on the town's rose festival.]

Resistance/Rejection - Now that they're forced to interact for whatever reason, they're going to spend a lot of time resisting their mutual interest/desire for one another due to whatever obstacles exist, like being from warring factions or one being in the middle of a divorce. But despite this resistance, we can see the sparks flying between them, even if they can't or don't want to admit it.

[Example: Sandi wants to focus on running her business and raising her daughter; Brent just got out of a long relationship and isn't ready for romance.]

Waning Resistance/Giving Love a Chance - Eventually there's a breakthrough... the obstacle gives way... they have a really fun time hanging out at the Christmas market and almost kiss... they move past the misunderstanding between them... or maybe they just slowly get over their issues and start to fall in love. Either way, they decide to give the relationship a go.

[Example: as they get to know each other and bond through working on the rose festival, they can't deny how compatible they are and an unexpected first kiss gives Brent the courage to ask Sandi out on a date, to which she agrees.]

Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back - This is essentially the first date, then another one, then another one... though it doesn't have to be actual dates. It just needs to be some interactive scenes when they're in relationship mode. Each of these interactions will deepen their feelings for one another while at the same time raising new obstacles or re-raising the old ones.

[Example: the first date goes well except that Sandi is preoccupied with the fact that her daughter is staying with a new sitter. The second date goes okay, except Brent is in a bad mood after his ex came to town to pick up the last of her things. Then they pull an all-nighter to make some final preparations for the upcoming rose festival, which leads to a philosophical conversation about the future, wherein Sandi says she sees herself getting remarried one day and having another kid or two, and Brent says he can't ever see himself getting married or being a father.]

This Isn't Going to Work - This is the midpoint crisis... the "all is lost" moment where one or both put on brakes and say, "I can't do this," citing whatever obstacle/s that now stand in the way of their happiness. Sometimes this follows their biggest act of intimacy yet, whether that's simply their first kiss or going all the way. It could even be the first declaration of love, being introduced to family, or some other important early relationship milestone. But then it all falls apart... maybe because one or more of the obstacles become too much, a fear-based retreat, or some other external force

[Example: the rose festival has arrived... Sandi is there with her daughter and parents, Brent is there with his mom and sister. Everyone meets, Brent continues to be great with Sandi's daughter... it's obvious Brent and Sandi belong together. But then Sandi's wayward not-yet-officially-ex-husband shows up and wants to get back together. Although she's ambivalent, seeing him interact with their daughter and her parents makes her realize giving him another chance is what's best for their daughter. Meanwhile, Brent witnesses this from far away, thinks, "I'm not good enough for a family like that," and he and Sandi go their separate ways.]

On Second Thought... - This is the moment when something happens that makes one or both characters realize they belong together... that the obstacles aren't real or don't matter... [Example: Brent finds a drawing Sandi's daughter made of the three of them together that makes him realize he really is worthy of their love. And Sandi sees that her husband hasn't changed, that he's still focused on chasing dreams that aren't what's best for their daughter... or herself, for that matter. ]

The Moment of Declaration - This is where the one character finds the other, or they find each other, and one or both declare their love and commitment to the other, despite whatever obstacles there may be. This is the run through the airport to catch the other before they fly away to a new life. It's the objection at the wedding before the other can go forward with the less-than-ideal marriage. It's the boombox on the shoulders, the kiss in the rain, the "I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on" declaration in a foggy field at sunrise. [Example: Brent hears from a friend that Sandi's husband left again. He goes to the last night of the rose festival, finds Sandi, and tells her he wants all of it... her, the daughter, her quirky parents, the flower shop, marriage, more kids... he is ready to take on the world with her, and she couldn't be happier.]

The Happily Ever After or "HEA" - This is the story's denouement, where we flash forward a few days, weeks, or more and see the happy ending. This is the jump ahead a few months to see the happy couple living their lives together, the one year leap ahead to the wedding, or a leap ahead to a moment even further down the road when the couple is firmly established in their HEA.

[Example: two years later, Sandi and Brent have been married almost a year, and are at the rose festival with the now six-year-old and their newborn twins, Sandi's parents, and Brent's mom and sister, one big happy family.]

Now... like I said, there are a variety of different structure templates for romance as there are for other genre stories. Don't feel like you have to pick one, and if you do, don't feel like you have to stick to it exactly. Story structure is just a guideline to help make sure you hit the important points to help the story unfold.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[poeticpascal]

White Lies (Joel Miller x Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: violence, Joel kills 3 dudes (what murdaaah?), descriptions of blood and wounds, stitches, Joel feels guilt and shame but is also very soppy and very in love, fuff and angst all tangled up, descriptions of chronic pain

A/n: I have had a bloody nightmare the last few weeks with suspected endometriosis, which is what inspired me to write this. In my head, reader has endo and the medicine is some sort of contraception or strong painkillers to help her manage it. But it isn't explicitly mentioned so you can imagine whatever you most relate to. Please do let me know what you think, and as always, requests are open!

It’s a harsh winter, even by Boston’s standards.

The QZ is coated in a veil of thick snow, the blizzard that took hold weeks ago now bruising the streets with an icy fist.

Joel pulls his coat tighter around himself, grateful at least for the cover the snowstorm offered, the skies foggy and grey. He can slip through the alleyways much quicker, much quieter beneath the frost. His footsteps are erased almost as soon as he leaves them, and when things get messy, he can soothe his wounds in the freeze.

Which is good, because things get messy a lot.

Not that he’d tell you that. You were too pure, too gentle; not unlike the snow that paints your doorframe now.

No, Joel keeps those things from you. The world has been unkind enough, and if he has one purpose now, it’s to protect that sweetness of yours. To collect it, each golden ray of sunshine that so easily radiates from you, to give it back and let you bask in the warmth of your own soul. 

No one deserves it more than you do. Least not him, and yet you’d given him more love, more sweetness, than he could ever dream of.

That’s why he told you he was working a late shift today - sewage, he thinks he said - rather than where he actually is at 3am, catching his death in an old littered alleyway.

He occasionally shifts to avoid the silver moonlight dripping from the gaps in the fire-escape stairs above him. Tonight’s meeting should be a simple one, free from FEDRA’s strict patrols; he’d done this long enough now to know when, and where, was safest for these things.

He stays on high alert, though. Just in case.

Marco’s late. He isn’t known for being the most competent of dealers, but Joel was getting desperate now, and he was the only crook in the QZ who could get what he needed. He was a small man, a bit pathetic looking, really. But he was smart, and he had connections that even Joel couldn’t make for all his smuggling and dealing.

So when Joel’s supplier told him he couldn’t help him anymore, he didn’t have a choice. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“Miller, there ya’ are.” Joel’s snapped out of his thoughts, his looming regret of this whole situation, as Marco strolls down the alley. He grins, in the same cocky way he always did, the sort of grin a man who couldn’t win a fight but has enough men who could wrapped around his finger, doing the dirty work for him.

Joel insisted he come alone. Not because he couldn’t handle his goons; he knew he could. Maybe. But it would cause a scene, and draw attention, to something he very much wanted to keep under wraps.

He’s semi-surprised to see the two men walking behind Marco. Deep down, he’d had some faith that the dealer would stick to his word.

“Quiet the fuck down,” Joel warns, seething through his teeth as his eyes search the alley behind them, making sure they hadn’t been heard. “Who are your friends?”

Marco follows Joel’s gaze towards his companions. “They’re just here to observe.”

The men are the same height as Joel, maybe a little taller. He recognises both from the sleazy speakeasies that lie beneath the floors of the QZ. Where the bad guys go. 

One is bald, with a jagged scar carved across his cheek and over his eye. He’s scowling, unlike Marco and the other man, who looks somewhat softer with thick hair grown to his shoulders and brown eyes that stayed on Joel like bedrock.

“That’s not what we agreed,’ Joel growls.

There’s tension in the air, thick, and they must feel it too because Marco’s henchmen each have a hand hovering near their sides, where silver blades reflect the white of the snow.

“I recall us also agreeing that you’d get your meds in return for the money. But we’re doing things a little differently today.” Joel remains stoic, though his eyes turn dark and angry, the moon’s light no longer illuminating his features. Marco tiptoes slowly towards him, getting so close that Joel can feel his breath and raising a hand to pick a piece of lint from his flannel shirt. “I want my money. But you might have to wait a little longer for your meds.”

Joel reacts then, squaring up to him, stepping forward and clenching his fists. The other men wrap their hands around their blades, anticipating a fight. Marco just laughs.

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, though they all know he understood what was going on.

“You’re gonna give me the amount we agreed. And then, you’re gonna speak to one of your guard friends, and cut me a deal. Then you might get your meds.”

Joel’s anger swells inside him like a beast, his previous care to stay hidden long gone as he imagines driving his fist into Marco’s smug, son of a bitch face again and again and again. 

He has to think this through, though. He needs those meds. Marco can see the cogs turning. “Just give me the money, Miller. Don’t make this difficult. You can’t take three of us.”

“No?” Joel retorts, already decided in what he’d do next. “I don’t think it’s worth findin’ out. Give me the meds.”

Marco sighs, dropping his head and stepping away from Joel, leaving him to face his men. “Shame, Joel. You really coulda helped us.”

He nods to his men, who immediately draw their blades and attack. The first lands a punch on his face, the weight of it surprising him as he falls back into the railing. Before he can recover, the other has already plunged a blade through his stomach, right below his ribcage. He controls himself, swallows the yell that claws its way up his throat, tries to think. The cold steel of the rail stabs into his back, and when another fist collides with his cheek and sends him to the floor, he uses it to haul himself up and tackle one of the men - the softer one - to the ground with him.

Marco only stands and watches as Joel throws his weight onto the man and smashes his head into the stone floor. The other grabs his shoulder, spinning him round but Joel’s prepared this time and he dodges the swat of his knife. Instead he throws a punch into his stomach, making him double over which gives Joel the opportunity to grab the knife strapped to his calf and drive it through the bald man’s throat. He stumbles, collapsing to the floor with a choked cry, and Joel turns back just in time to see the other man trying to stand, though the injury to his head makes him dizzy. Joel stands first, easily pushing the man to the ground, and stomping on his head with as much force as his steel-toed boots would let him. Both men stay down.

Marco has regressed into the darkness of the alley, and he looks somehow smaller than usual. He’s pathetic, and if this was any other job, he’d laugh. But this wasn’t a laughing matter, and there was only one target for him; the medication.

The smaller man reaches into his pocket, searching for his gun, but Joel anticipates the move and has already reached him and thrown him against the wall before he can find it. His movements strain the wound in his abdomen, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t feel it.

Joel’s fist pins Marco to the wall by his throat, making him splutter and flail like a fish out of water.

“Where are the fuckin’ pills, Marco?” He just continues to flail, trying to pull Joel’s hand off of him with both of his own, to no effect. Joel scoffs, throwing him to the floor and dragging his knife out of the now dead henchman’s neck. “If you won’t tell me, I guess I’ve got no use for ya.” He uses his shirt to clean the blade, the flannel already soaked in blood, his own.

“For fuck sake, Marco whines, slightly out of breath. “They’re at my place.”

“There anyone else there?” Joel asks, so nonchalantly that it almost sounds like a passing thought.

“No, no one there. But you’ll need me to get you in.”

Joel looks up again, the now-clean knife held in his fist with a vice-like grip. He stalks towards Marco, ignoring his desperate pleas. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem-” 

With that, he stabs him in the chest, letting him choke and gasp on the floor and searching his pockets for a key. He finds it, and does a quick, final survey of the alleyway. The once perfectly settled snow is disturbed, kicked up in the fight, and deeply stained with blood.

Joel curses, but leaves, only now noticing the burning pain from his torso. He leans against the wall, now stood out in the street, open; but there are no guards. He doesn’t think he’d care. Instead he grabs a fistful of the snow around his feet, packs it into the wound, hissing at the sharp pain of the ice but quickly feeling relief as it numbs him.

This was going to be a long night.

—------------------

It’s another couple of hours or so before he returns. There were, in fact, people at Marco’s place - but Joel knew that would be the case anyway. They weren’t a problem.

He’d showered in Marco’s flat, after taking out the men hanging out in there. Protecting it, he assumed. And he’d found a med pack that let him stitch up the wound to some degree; it was a hack job, but it should do the trick. He’d had worse.

The most important thing was that he found the meds.

The old door of your place creaks as he steps inside, quickly closing it behind him before the cold could enter. It’s futile, really; the wooden pillars are rotten, decaying so badly that the wind sweeps through the cracks with ease, and he can see dustings of snow on the floor around your windows. But he tries anyway.

“Joel?”

There you are.

It’s scary, honestly, what your voice does to him. Even so quiet, so distant from the bedroom upstairs, it lifts the weight from his shoulders that he thought he’d carry forever.

“I’m here, baby. I’m comin’.” He pulls off his shoes, placing them neatly beside the door just how you like, and heads upstairs. His bloodied shirt is long gone, buried in some forgotten corner of the QZ, where he has a collection of discarded items by now.

You don’t reply, he doesn’t expect you to. He reaches your bedroom, gently opening the door and sighing at the sight of you lying there, curled up between mountains of sheets and pillows.

He’d almost think you look peaceful if he didn’t know how much pain you’re in.

“Oh, honey,” he laments, crossing the distance from the door to you and kneeling down beside your head. You open your eyes, though they’re weighed down by exhaustion, and a small smile creeps onto your lips at the sight of the man before you.

“Hi,” you whisper, letting a gentle hand poke out from the duvet and brush his jaw. He can’t help but grin back at you, the total mess that took place just hours ago wiped from his mind completely, and he leans into your touch.

The both of you just stay like that for a moment, your thumb sweeping across his cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. Then you wince, and no matter how much you try to hide it, he can see the wave of pain inflict your body.

“I’ve got your tablets, sweetheart.” He reaches into his pocket, a desperation to his actions now; he hates seeing you like this. You just nod, pushing a meek but honest “thank you” past your lips, so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear it. His heart swells.

Joel presses out one tablet and hands it to you, then picks up the glass of water that stands on your side table, making a mental note to replace it later. You take the pill, grabbing hold of his hand before he can pull it away, and give it a gentle squeeze. He follows your lead and tips the water to your lips once you’ve placed the tablet on your tongue, gently helping you swallow and squeezing your hand right back.

A look of relief washes over your face, and he finally lets himself relax. He stands, letting go of your hand and leaning over to kiss your forehead, before pulling off the clothes he’d taken from Marco’s wardrobe and climbing in beside you.

He only knew heaven in these moments with you, late at night, when your hands reach for him beneath the sheets and your head nuzzles into his neck. It’s no different tonight; he’s quiet, unsure if you’d fallen asleep in those few seconds, and as much as he wishes you’d rest, he can’t deny the way his lips curl when he feels your gentle touch wrap around him.

“How was today? Doing the sewage?”

Joel swallows. “Yeah, yeah. It was fine. Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.” His arms envelop you, holding you tight against him, one hand drawing gentle circles on your back. He’s lost in the bliss for a moment, letting it wash over him in waves, when your hand brushes his haphazard and you freeze. So does he.

“Joel,” you say; it’s still a whisper, but not the tired kind you’d given him earlier. It’s like you’re too scared to ask. “What’s that?”

He panics, holding you tighter, trying to think. He can’t believe himself for not remembering to cover it, to make sure you didn’t see. 

“There was an accident today. I did some building work before I went to sewage, a pipe fell. Nicked me real bad-” you gasp, forcing yourself to sit up with shaky arms. Joel immediately pulls you back down, his hands grasping your face, staring into your eyes like they held the world inside them. It’s dark, but they glimmer, and he just hopes you can’t see his fear.

“No no. It’s fine, baby. I’m fine. Got seen by the doc, got a couple ‘a stitches. Says i’ll be all good by tomorrow.”

“By tomorrow? Joel that doesn’t sound right-”

He interrupts you. He hates this. “I promise, baby. That’s what she said. I promise.” He wipes a thumb across your cheek, and the way you seem to settle, to believe him, makes him ache. He hates this.

You nuzzle back into his side, placated. You trust him, endlessly, and he hates that he abuses that trust just as much as he needs to protect you. A means to an end, he thinks.

The two of you are silent for a few moments, your hand lay gentle over his wound. Like you’re trying to heal it. He thinks it’s working.

“Thank you for picking up my medicine,” you say.

“It’s okay.” His words are quiet, muffled; he’s got his face buried in your hair now, revelling in your scent, and really, he doesn’t want to talk about this with you. He doesn’t want to lie anymore than he already has.

You’re still oblivious, though. Still sweet.

“I’m so glad you can make my rations cover it. I don’t know what I’d do if they made them more expensive.”

Oh, babygirl, he thinks.

Because your rations don’t cover your medicine. Neither did his. Even combined, they’d hardly cover a drink in the bar these days. He’d seen you work and work and work, in spite of the pain that bloomed in your abdomen and tortured your bones until you could hardly stand up anymore, and he saw the way they laughed in your face and turned you away when you tried to get the help you needed. When you tried to trade your labour for medicine. You were nothing to them.

So he told you he could barter the price down. That it was best if he goes from now on, to make sure you’re not taken advantage of. He takes your rations, stuffs them right back in the savings pot you keep above the shelves in your kitchen, and leaves to make whatever underground deals he needs to in order to get those meds. And you didn’t know a thing.

He must’ve been quiet for a while, because you continue. “And I’m glad you don’t do those scary things anymore.”

That gets his attention. “Scary things?”

“Yeah. Like, the smuggling and stuff.” You take a breath, tighten your arms around his waist. “I mean, I know why you did it. I’m glad you were able to look after yourself.”

Joel curses to himself, unable to wipe the tears that brimmed in his eyes as you spoke, because that would mean letting go of you.

“But I’m also glad you don’t do that anymore. You go out, and you work, even the horrible sewage shifts like tonight.” You giggle, but Joel can’t even force himself to smile. Shame consumes him.

“I’m proud of you, Joel.”

He’s silent. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels like shit.

If you notice his stillness, you don’t mention it. That alone makes his heart ache; you’d always been so understanding, so careful to make sure he’s okay while knowing exactly how to handle his feelings.

It’s odd, really, how fiercely you protect one another. He doesn’t let the darkness of the world so much as touch you, and you extract the horrors from his veins like a vacuum, making him forget the damage was ever even there.

His eyes flitter down, watching you drift asleep, finally at peace and free from pain. He exhales.

He’d never feel good about lying to you. But some things, he thinks, are worth it.

You are worth it.

And so he brushes away the hair that’s fallen over your eyes, trying to fight the droopiness of his own so he can keep them on you for just a second longer. But sleep overtakes him, and the only reason he lets himself fall into dreamland, is because he knows he’ll find you there, too.

[cookybananas]

It's Been A Long Time, Old Friend (Part I) - Unburnt!Darth Vader x Reader

summary: where Darth Vader arrives on the planet of Lianna. Only to discover that the Queen of Lianna was once his old flame during his Jedi years.

"And there you are! You're all set to go your Excellency." Chira, your handmaiden said after putting some final touches to your look.

"Chira, you know you don't have to call me that when we're alone right?" You responded, looking at yourself in the large vanity mirror. Your husband, Kairos, King of Lianna, was having meeting with the Emperor's right hand man, Lord Vader. Ever since your arranged marriage to him, it is expected of you to appear alongside him in his meetings to get a second opinion and to look like an accessory.

Never in million of years you would find yourself in an arranged marriage to a man you've never met, but here you are. Two years after the fall of the Jedi, you've traveled from planet to planet, evading inquisitors from finding and capturing you. There was one day you found yourself in a slave trading operation, where you sold off as a promising bride to your now husband, King Kairos of Lianna. At first, Kairos was hesitant in marrying you since you were a slave, but he had a duty to give his father a long lineage of heirs and his people a beautiful Queen to follow.

However, the marriage had been rocky from the get-go and continued to remain that way. You were never interested in him nor was he into you. No matter how hard you both tried to like each other, and understand one another, you both would always have opposing viewing points and would always clash. Maybe it had something to do with your Jedi beliefs instilled in you or your distaste towards members of royal families, or the fact your husband was a bootlicker for the Emperor and his Galactic Empire, and was a constant supplier for their TIE fighters.

Because of this, you both decided to remain separate from each other from all hours of the day, as you both had your own duties to fulfill. You both eventually agreed to sleep in separate chambers due to how sour the marriage had turned.

As dangerous and stupid of an idea it was at the time, you believed it was somewhat a smart plan on your end to marry a royal family member. The inquisitors couldn't suspect a former Jedi to marry into royalty, right? Luckily, it helps that women who are apart of the Royal Family of Lianna, are expected to wear face paint and makeup to cover up their real identity. A similar practice that derived from the Royal Family of Naboo.

You had also cut yourself off the force right after the rise of the Empire. After Obi-Wan had told you that Anakin had turned to the dark side, you both knew what was expected to come for the both of you. Obi-Wan had gone his separate way, and you followed suit onto your own path.

Now here you were, covered in white face paint, heavy purple eyeshadow, and bright red lipstick embellished your facial features.

Chira assisted you in your royal gown. The gown was a deep purple, adorned with thousands of beads from the waist down. Chira placed your large halo crown onto your head, securing it place.

"Andddddd we're done! It looks like it's time for your meeting!" Chira said, eyeing you up and down, making sure you were looking like royalty.

"Thank you Chira. You are free to leave." You replied. Chira bowed before exiting your chambers.

You met your husband on the landing pad to the palace, where you both awaited for the arrival of Lord Vader.

"Darling, don't you look delightful today." Your husband, Kairos spoke up, lending his arm for you to take.

"Don't I always do?" You quipped, wrapping your arm around his. The whirring sound of a ship approached the landing pad. The door to the ship opened, revealing a line of stormtroopers, as they walked down the ramp. Right behind them, stood the terrifying Darth Vader.

"Ah, Lord Vader, shall we began our discourse?" Kairos spoke up, bowing to him, to which I silently followed his action.

"As always King Kairos." Lord Vader responded. The three of us, alongside the stormtrooper and our guards made our way to the conference hall.

-

The meeting was long and agonizing, as per usual. Kairos would argue for a larger price, the opposing party would try to bargain for a lower price, and yadda yadda.

Though this was your first meeting with the Emperor's apprentice, you have to stay, you weren't as intimidated as you thought you were. Yeah, you've heard grisly stories about the Sith Lord and cruel he can be, but after having to sit 2 hours straight across from him wasn't as bad. However, you did feel small under his gaze. His attention may be focused on your husband, but you couldn't help but sense the seeking glances from the Sith Lord himself from time to time.

"Perhaps we could ask your wife about her thoughts on this matter." Vader's mechanical voice shook you out of your thoughts and brought you back to reality. You looked at your husband, then at Lord Vader, before speaking up.

"Well, I do think it's possible to increase production and have our men producing 20,000 TIE fighters per week the next four weeks with the price of 7,000,000 Imperial credits." You offered, the amount that was way less than what your husband had originally offer, that being 20,000,000. Kairos feigned a smile as he squeezed your thigh in response to your offer, indicating that he was not satisfied with the amount you've offered to Lord Vader.

"We have a deal. I will return in two weeks to see the progress. It was a pleasure doing business with you as always King Kairos." The Sith Lord responded, now standing abruptly from his seat. Both Kairos and I followed suit. Kairos shaking his hand with Lord Vader, sealing the deal.

"And I see you have a wife. From what I recall, I don't remember you being married." The Sith Lord piqued. I adverted my gaze away from Lord Vader's intense gaze. Kairos squeezed my arm before speaking up.

"Well, we haven't been married that long Lord Vader. We had just gotten married shortly after our last meeting, so it's been 4 months." Kairos smiled down at me, to which I returned. "You will see her more often in our future encounters my Lord."

"I look forward to them." Vader responded, eyeing me up and down once more. Kairos and I assist Vader and his stormtroopers to his ship on the landing pad. After watching his ship depart, Kairos releases his arm from mine and walks back inside the palace, into his private chambers. I sigh to myself, watching Lord Vader's ship fly off in the horizon, before making my way into my chambers.

-

He couldn't put a finger on it, but something about you stirred something inside him. He didn't want to stare at you for too long, he knew it would make you uncomfortable, but there was just something about you that seemed familiar. Upon landing on the landing pad, he felt a faint force signature. Though you cut off yourself off from the force two years ago, some parts of you still lingered in the force.

After Vader's departure from the palace, he hadn't left the planet's atmosphere yet. In fact, his ship was on autopilot in the sky as he was busy sending a message to his master to tell him his discovery. Vader had a mission to get rid of every last Jedi, whether it meant to turn them into inquisitors or kill them off entirely.

"Master, it would seem I've made a discovery." Vader spoke to the blue figure on the holotable to his ship.

"And what would that discovery be Lord Vader?" The Emperor's tone sounding a bit impatient at his apprentice's words.

"It would appear that Queen of Lianna could be a force-sensitive individual, Master."

"Is that so my apprentice? What an interesting discovery... Perhaps we could turn her into a pawn, or a weapon... I would keep an eye on this one, Lord Vader. Perhaps she is a lot stronger with the force than we may realize." The Emperor responded, somewhat surprised that a Jedi had found themselves entangled in a royal family.

"Yes my master." Vader responded before the figure of Palpatine disappeared from the holotable. He had a new objective now. Vader wanted to alter the deal now. Instead of visiting in two weeks to check on the progress, he in fact, wanted to oversee the progress every day until he had gotten his TIE fighters. With this, Vader had made his way back to the palace.

-

"Your Majesty! You must come quickly!" Chira, your handmaiden had barged into your chambers. Unsure what was happening, you dropped the book you were reading and followed her.

"What's the matter Chira? Has something happened?" You asked, both of you fastening your pace in the direction of the throne room.

"I-it's Lord Vader. He came back...The King requested your presence." Chira huffed out. Both you and Chira arrived outside the tall doors to the throne room. You took a deep breath and corrected your posture before entering the room. The doors slowly opened, revealing the backsides of numerous stormtroopers and Lord Vader. Kairos, was seated on his throne, talking to Lord Vader when you caught his attention.

"My love, come." Kairos stood up, gesturing for you to come sit in your throne next to his. The stormtroopers and Lord Vader turn around to face you as you hurriedly made your way over to your royal seat.

"I have altered the deal. I will be overseeing the progress on the TIE fighters from now." Darth Vader's voice echoed throughout the room. You nervously looked over at your husband, unsure what he had gotten yourselves into.

"Y-Yes, your Lord. May I ask-"

"There will be no questions. I ask that you will provide my men lodging and meals for the duration of their stay." The Sith Lord interrupted him. To which Kairos could do nothing about nod enthusiastically at Lord Vader's requests. "Tomorrow, you will provide me a tour of your facilities as I will begin to oversee all production of my TIE fighters."

"Of course my Lord." Kairos stood up, bowing to Lord Vader. You sat there, staring at your husband, anxious of what was yet to come.

-

"What the hell was that Kairos?!" You exclaimed. Both you and Kairos were having another one of your disputes in his chambers once again. This time, it was about Lord Vader's little vacation at the palace and overseeing the planet's assets. "When are you going to stop kissing the Empire ass and stand up for yourself for once?"

"I had no choice Y/N! Have you forgotten that Lord Vader and the Emperor are the most cruel and powerful beings in this star system?! They'll cut off my arm if I were to disagree with them." Kairos retorted. You scoffed at the same excuse he had used ever since you brought this topic up. "The Empire is funding our planet. We are an asset to the Empire. We're becoming richer and richer with every TIE fighter and Imperial weapons we sell them. With this, we can help our people."

"I don't know want to hear it anymore Kairos. Our people still suffer at the hands of the Empire, whether it is happening directly or indirectly." You made your way to the door. "You may not see it now, but the damage done to the planet and the people will be irreparable when you come to your senses." With that, you slammed the door your husband's door shut. You huffed out in frustration, your heels clicking on the marble flooring as you stormed toward your chambers. Little did you know, Vader was around the corner, eavesdropping on the argument that you and Kairos had moments ago. The Sith Lord smiled to himself, realizing that he use this to further manipulate the King of Lianna with the knowledge that his marriage was crippling.

-

After taking a long soak in your bath and finishing your nighttime routine, you were eager to get some rest. Shutting the lamp on your nightstand, you began to snooze off.

Images of being in the Jedi Temple began to flood your dreams. Realizing what your mind was doing, you tried to shut down those dreams, worried that it would pull you deeper into the force and down the path of memories that you did not want to relive. But what you didn't know, Darth Vader was in the meditation chambers that the Lianna medical staff and engineers had constructed for the Sith Lord. Darth Vader was using the force to encourage you to reveal yourself. There was something oddly familiar about you that made him curious.

After trying to get into your mind, he couldn't. Either you had nothing interesting going in your mind or that you were really good at blocking him out. Vader knew he had to be careful. He couldn't give away his true intentions to why he was here on the planet of Lianna. Yes, he and Palpatine need the TIE fighters, however this is different now. A force-sensitive woman who was a Queen was the topic interest at the moment. Plus, Vader needed to be away from the Death Star. Staring at the dark gray walls and into hyperspace just wasn't cutting it for him. Luckily the planet of Lianna was filled with lush gardens and vast lakes that Vader and his men could enjoy the duration of their stay.

-

next part: It's Been A Long Time, Old Friend (Part II)

[waokevale]

The Overlapped AU [Aka Superhumans disguisted as Dinner Theater workers]

The Owners

The Managers (Engineer & the HR person)

The Waiters

The Security

The Performers (Wes is mostly on cleaning duty though)

The Kitchen staff (the others are usually tasked to help, though very few are actually trusted at all times to be there)

The Bartender and the Host

The Dishwashers

The Clerk & The Supplier

So this AU came to me upon a dream, and I just had to make it real...

The synopsis below:

The event of April 17th 1906 does happen, however instead of Charlie and Maxwell being kidnapped into the Constant, the Constant overlaps with the real world and spreads itself onto Earth.

Charlie and Maxwell in the process become corrupted and have to hide away temporarily. Both of them soon began to hear strange voices, source of which neither is quite sure, telling them, compelling them to hide the corruption's effect from the publicity, for the time being.

They come to a mutual realization they have to fix this mess somehow and hunt down any and all corrupted by the tome, by any means necessary.

(Maxwell still has codex umbra, but it is sealed shut for the time being until he's sure it won't spread more if Their influence. )

But the corruption didn't just appear out of nowhere, it's been leaking way long before Maxwell found the Codex, if to a less prominent extent.

Thus, in few years passing, they form a Dinner Theater, a rather inconspicuous establishment from the first glance. Very quickly they began "hiring" employees, which in reality means tracking down and blackmailing those who have been corrupted but not fully lost themselves to its effects, in order to hunt those who had.

Winona was against the idea at first, as she found out. But seeing the effects of corruption first hand, she quickly had a change of heart and integrated herself into Charlie's new environment.

Eventually they gathered a rather generous amount of people. Once a person's proven to be trustworthy to a point, they're give higher positions in the company.

However those who aren't, are likely to be shunned or "fired" which...you could probably guess what that means.

Many of these people gradually come to terms with the reality of their situation and accept their newfound purpose, being thankful that at least they still have a roof over their head and a warm meal, instead of being viewed as monsters or outcasts to the greater society.

(Wilson though, can't quite accept this notion. He keeps claiming that "this is just a big misunderstanding, I'm just a normal guy!" Yet the truth could be far from it.)

When Maxwell and Charlie hear of the danger looming, they immediately inform their "staff" of the matter. Those who are more experienced in combat come along to face whatever opponent may cross them, while those who aren't, stay behind, to be an additional aid or a medic in case the battle gets too intense.

Whenever any suspicion arises in the town about the shady business going on in that particular building, the two owners alongside their employees practically gaslight anyone and everyone into believing they're but the most regular entertainment center.

The characters who have either willingly or unwillingly lost their humanity, mostly in the physical sense, are given special devices constructed of Thulecite and bits of nightmare fuel (made by Winona, Wicker and the main two), which effectively hide away their true identity, or surpress the effects of their ailment.

There's also a few other people important to this story, especially the One, which even Charlie and Maxwell refer to as "The Boss", though what many most recent hires don't know, is that there's someone who's in a position much higher than the owners themselves, controlling their every move.

Correlating to that, another person, or rather, a set of people per se, working for a much different cause. Though most of them are "people" in only a visual sense of the word.

And while, there might be someone inside the well-known around town diner, who just might be more than what appears on the surface, literally and metaphorically this time.

__________

If you're interested to learn more about this AU, do let me know. If you have any questions, I'm happy to hear and answer them!

[m-artemisa-c]

Lucky night

Pairing: Lando Norris x f!reader

This is an (18+) story which means if you are a minor, you are not allowed to interact.

......................................................................................................................

So this is the first time Im posting something, I was little bored and decided to write one of my many sex fantasies haha english is not my first language so sorry in advance for the grammar errors etc....i don't know if anyone would read this but if you do I hope you enjoy it <3

“Can you please send me the quotations we received today? I already asked you this twice, please focus more on your duties!”  –  I heard Derek, my manager from the other side of the corridor... what an ass... 

The truth is that I’ve been out of my mind for a while, unable to focus on any task. It’s been overwhelming, I must say, a new job, new apartment, new people, and a new city to discover or that’s what I thought. It looks like Monaco is as small as my little hometown, it took me only a week to “discover” my new home. Impressive?  Yes, I would never imagine being here, but I’m not sure I’m going to fit in with all these petulant and fancy people. Everyone seems like some kind of famous shitty person. 

“Do I have to send you a reminder? Or are you going to do the job you are being paid to do? “ – It looks like being a needy asshole is a required skill if you want to be a manager – “I just sent them to you, I also attached the price analysis I made for these suppliers”

For the last 8 years, I worked for an automotive company, it was my first job when I graduated from business school. I started as a trainee for the quality staff and after a year the logistics supervisor asked me if I was interested in joining his team, after some years I got promoted to the sales area. 

I was happy and grateful for the job I had; I'd make enough money to pay my rent and to provide my cat Murphy with all the toys and food he needed to be happy. My life was good or that’s what I thought. 

“There is nothing attached to the mail you sent…” – Derek screamed from his office - “Fuck! You need to stop now “- I screamed to myself. 

“Is everything ok with you? I know you just moved here two weeks ago” – I turned my face and saw my coworker Mike approaching me from his desk – “Ohhh... I’m..Yes, I’m ok thanks. I’m still getting used to my new life haha “ - I responded awkwardly, I turned my face again to my computer screen making sure to attach the files this time and send the email... again. I’ve only been working here for one week and Derek already thinks I’m retarded. 

“Do you have plans for later? We can go for a drink or two” – I turned my face to Mike – “Ammm .. I...mm sure, why not? Having some drinks sounds like a plan to me “ – I reply with a smile on my face – “Nice! So, you tell me when you are done with work, and we will leave. I know a nice restaurant with a stunning view. I’m sure you will love It” – he said as he headed back to his desk. 

One of the main reasons I accepted this job was because I felt something was missing in my life. And when I say “something” I mean sex...sweaty, passionate, and unholy sex.  It’s been 5 years since the last time I had slept with somebody... a guy I met on Tinder... a total disaster.  And after that, I decided I had enough shitty sex and  I spoiled myself... I bought my first sex toy. I named him Timmy because I have a crush on Timothée Chalamet, so since Timmy arrived, I’ve been a happy woman with plenty of orgasms. 

I love Timmy? Yes! no doubt about that, I would never imagine I was able cum so many times in one night, but I cannot deny I want to feel the heat of a dicks men while he is drilling my pussy, I want to feel how his tongue travel all over my body and praise me for being a good girl because  I ride him all night. 

It might sound kind of pathetic that a “grown woman” like me wants to be called a “good girl” but let’s be honest, being 30 is a nice age... That’s what I say to myself when I feel like I’m too old to try to flirt with men or go out. What a disaster! When I was 23, I was way bolder than now, I remember how I used to enter the clubs, knowing exactly which guy I wanted. The flirting game was so fun. Guys trying to get closer to me and dance while they ground their bodies with my ass, grabbing me by the waist and caressing my skin, saying sweet lies to my ear ... good days ...

“So, are we ready?” – Mike’s voice snapped my thoughts. I looked at my clock and realized I  spent 2 hours thinking about my younger years... a nice way to show Derek I’m not retarded – “Uhhh...I just need to send some emails. I will see you in the lobby if that’s ok with you “- Mike nods his head with a smile while he heads to the elevators. 

Maybe tonight is my lucky night, maybe instead of daydreaming about my younger years I need to lose control and show Mike the whore inside of me... – “We need to schedule a meeting with the coil supplier for next Monday and I need to know the amount we have been paying to our broker for these operations. That’s all for today, I expect you to be ready for the meeting “ – my manager said with an annoyed look before leaving my desk. God I need Timmy right now, maybe I can bring him with me and lock myself in the bathroom when I feel angry. I set up the meetings and headed to the elevators to meet Mike. 

While waiting for the elevators I couldn’t stop thinking about Mike and my lucky night. I know I said I was a flirty master when I was younger but now? Hahaha I am a complete loser, I don’t know how to talk with men. How am I going to seduce Mike? He is way more attractive than me, a good-looking man. If I had to guess I would say he is 35, has a nice body, and a charming smile... “Over here!” -  Mike raised his hand and I greeted him with a smile – “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind waiting for me “– I said - “It was only 15 minutes don’t worry. My car is over here “– he put his hand on my back – “Do you seriously drive to the office?” – I looked at him with a surprised face – “Well yes, don’t you?” – he replied – “No haha it's only a 20 min walk from my apartment to the office. I like to walk. It's a nice way to start the day” – it's true, walking is nice, and it feels stupid to drive such a short distance...this is what I mean when I say I’m not sure I’m going to fit here.

We arrived at a nice luxurious restaurant. This is not what I had in mind when Mike said we would go out for drinks, but the view was amazing, just like he promised. Don’t ramble! Remember your lucky night, Mike wouldn’t suggest drinks if he wasn’t attracted to me in some way, right? There is only one reason a man would suggest drinks... Maybe I need some alcohol so I can let myself lose and have fun ... – “Bonjour, je voudrais commander quelque chose à boire? “– the waitress asked and all I could do was look at Mike with a confused look- “He asked if you wanted something to drink “– Mike said with a childish smile – “Oh! Tequila for me please “ – I said as I looked at the waitress- “How come you moved to a city and don’t speak the language?” – Mike asked with an intriguing look – “Ummm well, I didn’t know I was moving until I had to move here haha It was kind of messy, at first the job offer was to be the intermediary between the company and the suppliers. No need for relocation, just weekly meetings but then I got a better offer due to my experience so here I am, completely lost. I’m going to learn how to speak French, people here are kinda pissed if you speak in English all the time ...Maybe you can teach me “– I suggested with a flirty look... or at least that was what I thought I was doing – “Sure! I moved here 3 years ago so I can teach you some basic sentences haha”

Drinks finally arrived and after 1 hour I could feel how tequila was making me forget about my insecurities, now was the time to suggest Mike take me home and maybe invite him another drink. Wait, I need to change my underwear into a nice set of lingerie... Do I even have lingerie? The last time I remember I bought sexy underwear was when I was dating my ex-boyfriend from university, well maybe I can improvise with some thong and a nice bra. 

Alcohol and overthinking don’t get along, take note! While I was deep in my thoughts, I ignored what my new friend Mike said – “Ready to go?” – Mike asked –” Go where?” – I said intrigued – “To my place “- he gave me a confused look -” I asked if you wanted to have some drinks at my apartment. Did you change your mind? “– oh shit... it is happening. Finally, my lucky night is happening – “Sorry, I just feel a little tipsy from the alcohol haha let’s go!”

The drive to Mike’s apartment was fun, he was talking about his favorite spots in Monaco and I was completely lost daydreaming about all the sex I was going to get, while adjusting to my seat I felt how wet my pussy was. My god, I'm so nervous, do I have to make the first move? or should I just let him take control of the situation?

“Babe! I’m so glad you are finally here! “– a beautiful woman said as she came close to Mike and kissed him – “I'm sorry to be late sweetie, we had a couple of drinks before work. I want to introduce you to my new coworker; she moved here two weeks ago, and I thought it would be nice to invite her to our open house so she can meet new people. This is Florence, my girlfriend, she’s from Monaco, she can help you with anything you need. Right, babe? “– I was in shock; all I could do was smile stupidly - “Bienvenue à Monaco ma chère! It's a pleasure to meet you. Mike told me you were having a tough time adjusting here. I'm so glad he suggested this, and as he said I’m here to help you if you need something “– Florence said as she smiled at me. 

What was I thinking? Of course, he is not attracted to me at all, he was only trying to be nice with the new coworker - “Can I offer you a drink? What would you like? We have wine, gin , tequila” - Florence asked me - “Mmm I'm already a little drunk so a glass of water would be nice. I mmm where is the bathroom? “- 

As I head to the bathroom I regret every choice I made for the last month. This was a mistake, everything was a mistake, what was I thinking? I don't belong here, I can quit my job and go back home. My boss hates me and I just embarrassed myself with the only “friend” I made. As I wash my face I decide that it would be better if I just go home. 

“Hey … mmm …I …  am sorry but I don't feel well, I guess I'm not used to drinking alcohol anymore haha I should leave now before I make something I regret” - I said -” Wait what ? When I told you about the party you said you would love to come, what happened?” - Mike asked - “Yeah yeah , I was excited about it but you know I forgot to feed my cat in the morning, he must be starving now. I need to go. Sorry” - I said as I grabbed my purse - “Do you want me to drive you home? It's more than a 20 min walk to the office from here “- Mike said jokingly - “No no , don't worry you have guests coming soon, you must be here. I will order an uber. I will see you on Monday and it was a pleasure to meet you Florence. You have a wonderful apartment, maybe I can visit both again when I'm not drunk”- I said awkwardly as I opened the door. 

Once I was alone in the corridor I realized how pathetic I was. I've always found a peculiar way to expose myself to awkward situations but haha this one is definitely in the top three. Maybe Derek is right and I'm kind of retarded. Fuck! the things I do to get laid, thinking about my sex fantasies is making me lose all my concentration. Maybe I can ask Florence to introduce me to some friends I can - “For fucks sake, get out the way” - I heard someone screaming at me - “Excuse me.. what did you say?” - I asked as I turned my body to face the rude voice  - “Wow, are you deaf? I've been here asking you to move so I can get to the elevator “- another spoiled rich guy, what a surprise. This is it, I'm going back home - “I'm sorry but that's not the way you should talk to people, you never know what is going on with others. Maybe you can be more polite “- I said as I rolled my eyes - “I was polite the first three times I asked you to move so don't try to turn it to me, you are the one who should be apologizing” - Oh god, I want to punch his face so badly - “Yeah, whatever you said Junior, why don't you go back to your daddy's apartment and cry with him “- I said as I begged for the doors to open- “Watch out! A little bitch over here! “-  the guy jokes as the doors open and we both enter …why me...- “You know, there is no valid reason for you to act like this. What is your problem? Your boyfriend doesn't fuck you enough?” - He said with a smirk on his face. Why are attractive guys such jerks? I look down as I wait to get to the lobby - “Yeah, that's what I thought, you are frigid don't you? I bet men don´t even enjoy your company, you look like a boring woman, now I understand why you are such a bitch”

It was all too much, the alcohol, the disappointment, and this spoiled guy. I tried to ignore him but his last words were like a stab in my heart… he was right, men don't enjoy my company, I turned into a boring woman with no sexual appeal, and then I exploded  - “You know what? You are right! I'm a boring woman, I'm all dried up, there’s no joy in my life anymore. Men don't enjoy my company even if I try to seduce him” - I was crying and yelling at him - “I haven't been fucked in almost a decade ” - the guy was completely in shock, you could tell by the way he opened his eyes.He was regretting saying those things - “you can say all you want about me being a bitch but it's not my fault. If men knew how to give a proper fuck I wouldn't be here…trying my best to be flirty - silence filled the elevator as I realized what I was doing -”…sharing personal information with a stranger and embarrasing myself …fuck”- oh god, this day is getting worse I think I'm going to lose my mind. Yes this guy is a jerk but I'm being mental over here. I need to calm down  - “look I'm sorry” - I said as I wiped my tears- “it's not a good day “

I buried my face in my hands pretending I was back home when I felt the elevator stop. I looked at the guy and he was pressing the red stop button - “What the hell are you do…” - was all I could say. In a matter of seconds, I felt a warm tongue deep inside my mouth while a strong pair of hands grabbed my face, cornering my body between the wall. The kiss was so passionate I could barely breathe, his tongue was exploring my mouth like crazy, suddenly this rich spoiled guy sucked my lower lip making me moan from the pleasure. When I opened my eyes all I could see was a pair of eyes looking into my soul, wonderful blue eyes that made me feel so vulnerable yet excited and horny.  His fresh breath was on my face and we stayed like this for what it feels like an eternity. I was completely mesmerized by this guy. 

He ran his thumb over my lower lip, just where he sucked it and I saw how he smirked. His other hand moved to grab one of my boobs- “You are a wonderful woman” - he said as he caressed my breast over my blouse. I let out a soft moan  - “And most important, you are not dried up “- he said as he kissed my neck - “I bet I can make your delicious pussy soak all over me” - I felt his thigh between my legs, just where my clit was. The friction was pure pleasure to my soul and I let a loud moan escape my mouth as I grabbed his strong bicep - “Come on, let yourself enjoy this' ' - he said as he kept kissing my neck. I was in heaven, he was kissing me just where I wanted. It was like he knew my body and how to touch me, I let myself lose and grind harder on his tight  - “Oh my g.... mmmm…yesss” -  I moaned as my head fell back giving him more access to kiss my neck. I could feel his smile on my throat as I kept moaning from the pleasure  - “Fuck!” - he muttered in my ear - “I can already feel your wetness” -  he said as both of his hands grabbed my waist guiding my movements - “Open your eyes, look at me. I want to see how much you are enjoying this” - he commanded as I was on the edge of pleasure, unable to react to his instructions.I kept grinding harder on his thigh with my eyes closed enjoying the pleasure and chasing my orgasm. I could feel it coming, my legs were shaking and I was babbling nonsense words and moans, and suddenly it stopped. I opened my eyes with an angry look - “Why …mm. noo … I was so clos..”- I felt how he turned my body to face my reflection on the mirror wall. One of his hands grabbed my throat while the other slid down to my pussy.  - “Open your eyes, sweetie. I want you to see how pretty you look when you moan” - his hand was teasing my pussy over my jeans - “Mmmmm yeesss” - I moaned as I leaned my head back to his chest - “No no “- he said as he guided my head back so I could see myself again - “I told you I want you to see yourself “ - he said as he gently rubbed my pussy - “Do you like what you see? Fuck you look so sexy, I can see how bad you want it” - I nodded frenetically - “ Yess please, I want it, please please don't stop this time” - I saw how he smirked proudly - “Mmmm such a good girl for me. Do you want me to touch you? Feel the heat of your soaking pretty pussy?” - What a jerk, he is making me beg for it … it's worth it…be a whore for him -” Yess! Touch me and make me cum”. 

I felt how his hand unbuttoned my jeans and slid into my underwear just where I needed him. Fuck ! I could hear how wet I was, sticky noises filled the elevator as  he opened my folds, his long fingers were traveling all over my dripping pussy  to my clit and teasing my hole. I watched the obscene scene from the mirror wall, this cute guy was driving me crazy. I felt a wave of confidence and I started to grind my body against him, I felt his hard cock against my ass, his big, hard, and delicious cock. Our bodies were like matching pieces from a puzzle, perfectly moving while we enjoyed the friction. 

I grabbed his neck to increase the pressure and in a violent move, he ripped the buttons of my blouse. With no hesitation, he moved my bra exposing my bare chest to him - “Mhmmmm…you have a pair of delicious nipples over here”  - He said as he cupped one of my boobs, my nipples were hard and aching for more - “Come on, cum for me pretty girl” - he commanded - “Ahh..yes.. please..mmm.. keep… keep going... I just …mmm… kiss me “ I felt his warm tongue in my mouth once again. I was moaning against his mouth as he violently abused my clit making my legs shake from pleasure. He kept rubbing my soaking pussy and without a warning I felt an amazing jolt all over my body -” Fuuck yes! Yess cum all over my fingers!” - I heard as I felt my soul leave my body, I was shaking like crazy. 

It took me a while to recover from the amazing orgasm, I was unable to stand by myself, luckily a pair of strong arms were helping me. Once my brain was ready I opened my eyes, I saw how this spoiled rich guy was licking his fingers covered with my cum. Fuck, he is so hot! I look at my reflection in the mirror and smile to myself. Sweat was coming down my forehead, my face was red, my nipples were hard and you could easily see how I still had goosebumps - “You taste like heaven”  - I heard from behind. I gave him a shy smile as I tried to fix myself but he stopped me. I faced him and he grabbed my face between his hands - “I'm sorry for being a jerk” he kissed me once again, a soft and gentle kiss - “And as i said…You are not dried up sweetie” - he said as he put one lock of hair behind my ear -”If that thought crosses your mind again I will gladly remind you how wet i can make you” - I instantly blush as I bite my lower lip, I tried to cover my chest with my ripped blouse - “Fuck, I'm sorry for this too”- he gave me a childish smile - “Why don't you come over my place? I will give you a shirt …” 

Maybe being here can be an exciting adventure after all, maybe Monaco isn't as bad as I thought. “Im Lando by the way, please accept my offer…You can apologize for being a bitch…”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Palantir’s NHS-stealing Big Lie

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then SAN FRANCISCO (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

Capitalism's Big Lie in four words: "There is no alternative." Looters use this lie for cover, insisting that they're hard-nosed grownups living in the reality of human nature, incentives, and facts (which don't care about your feelings).

The point of "there is no alternative" is to extinguish the innovative imagination. "There is no alternative" is really "stop trying to think of alternatives, dammit." But there are always alternatives, and the only reason to demand that they be excluded from consideration is that these alternatives are manifestly superior to the looter's supposed inevitability.

Right now, there's an attempt underway to loot the NHS, the UK's single most beloved institution. The NHS has been under sustained assault for decades – budget cuts, overt and stealth privatisation, etc. But one of its crown jewels has been stubbournly resistant to being auctioned off: patient data. Not that HMG hasn't repeatedly tried to flog patient data – it's just that the public won't stand for it:

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2023/nov/21/nhs-data-platform-may-be-undermined-by-lack-of-public-trust-warn-campaigners

Patients – quite reasonably – do not trust the private sector to handle their sensitive medical records.

Now, this presents a real conundrum, because NHS patient data, taken as a whole, holds untold medical insights. The UK is a large and diverse country and those records in aggregate can help researchers understand the efficacy of various medicines and other interventions. Leaving that data inert and unanalysed will cost lives: in the UK, and all over the world.

For years, the stock answer to "how do we do science on NHS records without violating patient privacy?" has been "just anonymise the data." The claim is that if you replace patient names with random numbers, you can release the data to research partners without compromising patient privacy, because no one will be able to turn those numbers back into names.

It would be great if this were true, but it isn't. In theory and in practice, it is surprisingly easy to "re-identify" individuals in anonymous data-sets. To take an obvious example: we know which two dates former PM Tony Blair was given a specific treatment for a cardiac emergency, because this happened while he was in office. We also know Blair's date of birth. Check any trove of NHS data that records a person who matches those three facts and you've found Tony Blair – and all the private data contained alongside those public facts is now in the public domain, forever.

Not everyone has Tony Blair's reidentification hooks, but everyone has data in some kind of database, and those databases are continually being breached, leaked or intentionally released. A breach from a taxi service like Addison-Lee or Uber, or from Transport for London, will reveal the journeys that immediately preceded each prescription at each clinic or hospital in an "anonymous" NHS dataset, which can then be cross-referenced to databases of home addresses and workplaces. In an eyeblink, millions of Britons' records of receiving treatment for STIs or cancer can be connected with named individuals – again, forever.

Re-identification attacks are now considered inevitable; security researchers have made a sport out of seeing how little additional information they need to re-identify individuals in anonymised data-sets. A surprising number of people in any large data-set can be re-identified based on a single characteristic in the data-set.

Given all this, anonymous NHS data releases should have been ruled out years ago. Instead, NHS records are to be handed over to the US military surveillance company Palantir, a notorious human-rights abuser and supplier to the world's most disgusting authoritarian regimes. Palantir – founded by the far-right Trump bagman Peter Thiel – takes its name from the evil wizard Sauron's all-seeing orb in Lord of the Rings ("Sauron, are we the baddies?"):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/01/the-palantir-will-see-you-now/#public-private-partnership

The argument for turning over Britons' most sensitive personal data to an offshore war-crimes company is "there is no alternative." The UK needs the medical insights in those NHS records, and this is the only way to get at them.

As with every instance of "there is no alternative," this turns out to be a lie. What's more, the alternative is vastly superior to this chumocratic sell-out, was Made in Britain, and is the envy of medical researchers the world 'round. That alternative is "trusted research environments." In a new article for the Good Law Project, I describe these nigh-miraculous tools for privacy-preserving, best-of-breed medical research:

https://goodlawproject.org/cory-doctorow-health-data-it-isnt-just-palantir-or-bust/

At the outset of the covid pandemic Oxford's Ben Goldacre and his colleagues set out to perform realtime analysis of the data flooding into NHS trusts up and down the country, in order to learn more about this new disease. To do so, they created Opensafely, an open-source database that was tied into each NHS trust's own patient record systems:

https://timharford.com/2022/07/how-to-save-more-lives-and-avoid-a-privacy-apocalypse/

Opensafely has its own database query language, built on SQL, but tailored to medical research. Researchers write programs in this language to extract aggregate data from each NHS trust's servers, posing medical questions of the data without ever directly touching it. These programs are published in advance on a git server, and are preflighted on synthetic NHS data on a test server. Once the program is approved, it is sent to the main Opensafely server, which then farms out parts of the query to each NHS trust, packages up the results, and publishes them to a public repository.

This is better than "the best of both worlds." This public scientific process, with peer review and disclosure built in, allows for frequent, complex analysis of NHS data without giving a single third party access to a a single patient record, ever. Opensafely was wildly successful: in just months, Opensafely collaborators published sixty blockbuster papers in Nature – science that shaped the world's response to the pandemic.

Opensafely was so successful that the Secretary of State for Health and Social Care commissioned a review of the programme with an eye to expanding it to serve as the nation's default way of conducting research on medical data:

https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/better-broader-safer-using-health-data-for-research-and-analysis/better-broader-safer-using-health-data-for-research-and-analysis

This approach is cheaper, safer, and more effective than handing hundreds of millions of pounds to Palantir and hoping they will manage the impossible: anonymising data well enough that it is never re-identified. Trusted Research Environments have been endorsed by national associations of doctors and researchers as the superior alternative to giving the NHS's data to Peter Thiel or any other sharp operator seeking a public contract.

As a lifelong privacy campaigner, I find this approach nothing short of inspiring. I would love for there to be a way for publishers and researchers to glean privacy-preserving insights from public library checkouts (such a system would prove an important counter to Amazon's proprietary god's-eye view of reading habits); or BBC podcasts or streaming video viewership.

You see, there is an alternative. We don't have to choose between science and privacy, or the public interest and private gain. There's always an alternative – if there wasn't, the other side wouldn't have to continuously repeat the lie that no alternative is possible.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/08/the-fire-of-orodruin/#are-we-the-baddies

Image: Gage Skidmore (modified) https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Peter_Thiel_(51876933345).jpg

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

[oacest]

(with enormous thanks to @noandneuron for their tremendous scholarly work taking pics of the library print version of this article, which seems to otherwise not exist online. original post with pics can be found here.)

LIAM WANTED ME TO MARRY HIM AND HAVE HIS BABY... BUT NOEL TORE US APART

SINGER FELL FOR WICKED SEX LIES ABOUT LOVER

by Phil Taylor, Chief Feature Writer (News of the World) (Sept 8, 1996)

Oasis idol Liam Gallagher's jilted fiancee opened her heart to the News of the World last night and told how her wedding plans were torn apart by his scheming brother Noel.

“Liam was the love of my life and we planned to get married and have children,” seethed Cerice Blakeley. “But Noel wrecked our relationship because the most important thing in his life was Oasis and he felt that I was in the way. I will never, ever forgive him. Noel deviously told his brother the most hurtful allegation that he could about me—that I had betrayed him and had sex with the band's cocaine supplier. I never two-timed Liam. But he believed Noel and was absolutely devastated. To this day he doesn't know the truth. Now Liam's with Patsy Kensit. I wonder if Noel will do the same to her.”

Life had all looked so different when Cerice first met the brothers who were yet to take Britain by storm. It was in a marquee near Oldham in May 1992—and it was Cerice's 21st birthday.

“I was heavily into the Manchester music scene,” she said. “And I was friendly with a band called the Inspiral Carpets—at the time Noel worked for them as a roadie. When he came along with the band I wasn't attracted to him at all. I hated his haircut—it looked as though someone had used a bowl. But I took one look at Liam and it was love at first sight.

“He wore blue cords and a dark navy kagoule and looked adorably different. I got quite flirtatious with him and later we arranged a date. Liam couldn't drive and was living at his mum Peggy's council house in Manchester. So I picked him up in my Citroen and we went up on the moors. Liam gave me the most amazing kiss I've ever had. It seemed to go on for ages and my mind was in a whirl. I felt so turned on I wanted to have sex with him there and then. I know he felt the same.

“But we decided to do it properly, so we booked into a lovely country hotel. I've never felt so excited in my life as we finally curled up on the bed and smoked a joint of marijuana. We kissed and kissed and I was ready and willing for Liam to make love to me. But to my disappointment, he suddenly stopped and told me, 'I respect you too much.' I couldn't believe it. It was so unlike a Manchester bloke. But I was very touched and it made me love him and want him even more.”

Liam later invited Cerice home to meet his mum. Then, she said, after a cup of tea and a chat they went upstairs to Liam's bedroom... and made love for the first time.

Cerice sighed: “Liam was only 19, two years younger than me, and was very nervous in bed. I wanted to strip him off, but he was so self conscious. He wouldn't take off his cream woolly jumper because he felt his chest was too puny. So I tried to break the ice and joked: 'Don't worry about your chicken chest, you've got lovely footballer's legs.'

“It worked. He relaxed and we made love to Hey Jude, one of his favourite Beatles songs. I felt wonderful afterwards and spent the night in Liam's bed. Then, the next morning, he brought me up a cup of tea and we chatted for ages.

“Then he ran a bath and started putting handfuls of salt in it. I couldn't believe my eyes and asked him what he was doing. He told me, 'It helps strengthen my bones.'

“Afterwards he spent ages doing his hair... he was always using his mum's hairdryer. I told him, 'You're going to end up like Mick Jagger.' Then I asked him if he wanted to try my mascara—and he did. But he went one step further and squeezed into my size 8 velvet jacket too. Then he put on the Rolling Stones record Satisfaction, pouted his lips and started strutting around the bedroom like Jagger. I creased up laughing. I'm only 5ft 5ins and Liam is 5ft 11ins. The jacket was so tiny on him, the sleeves rolled up around his elbows. But he loved it and it turned him on. He fell on the bed and we had fantastic sex for 45 minutes. Afterwards, Liam told me, 'I'm not gay or bisexual. I'm just in touch with my feminine side.'”

Cerice saw Liam and Oasis rise from obscurity to stardom. “I went to the studio with them while they were recording their album Definitely Maybe and knew they were going to be massive,” she said. “It went to No. 1.”

Two years after they met, Cerice's life seemed complete. “We had just got back to Liam's mum's house from a gig in Sheffield,” she said. “Liam looked really nervous. He told me, 'I have got something very nice to ask you. Will you marry me? I want you to have my children.'

“I was thrilled. I gave him a big hug and said, 'Of course I will.' We celebrated with a glass of his favourite drink. Jack Daniel's and Coke. Then we went round to my home and he told my dad. Liam said to him, 'I love Cerice and I want her to feel secure, so I've asked her to get engaged.'

“Being a practical, logical man, Dad asked Liam how financially secure he felt he was going to be. At the time, Liam was only getting £100 a week from the band. And he told my dad he couldn't even afford to buy me an engagement ring. But he said he was saving up to get me one. Dad wasn't too impressed. But he gave us his blessing because he wanted me to be happy.”

Liam's brother Noel, she said, was less pleased. “Noel nicknamed me Yoko Ono,” she recalled bitterly. “He felt I'd pull Liam away from the band, just as Yoko did with John Lennon and the Beatles. Nothing could have been further from the truth.”

Cerice and Liam rented a flat in the Didsbury area of Manchester for £75 a week and moved in together. “He put his favourite posters on the ceiling of our front room,” she said. “They were of John Lennon and the Stone Roses, one of his favourite bands.

“I would do the cooking—Liam's favourite meal was steak and Walker's crisps—but he'd always do the washing up and we would take turns with the hoovering. The only thing that annoyed me about him was that he always left his wet towels on the bathroom floor.”

It was in that flat, said Cerice, that the couple planned a family. She sighed, “I said I wanted a little girl and told Liam I hoped she'd have my hair, my brain, and his tenderness. He joked that he wanted a little boy who loved Manchester City, then said, 'I really don't mind what sex it is. I just want to have a baby with you.'”

And all the time, she confessed, their sex life became more and more intense—fuelled by drugs. “I must admit we took our share of cocaine through a £10 note,” she said. “It was extra special when we got in bed together because Liam was away on tour more and more as the band got bigger and bigger. I saw them play before 100,000 at Glastonbury and they were phenomenal.”

In the summer of 1994, Cerice and Liam drove to Scotland together for the massive Tea In The Park festival. “As the journey went on we were feeling friskier by the minute,” she said. “After four hours' driving we couldn't wait any longer. We were travelling on the M74 through Scotland when we saw a big wood. We looked at each other, smiled, and both had exactly the same idea.

“I pulled over, parked on the hard-shoulder and we ran off into the woods. Then we lay down on the soft moss and made wild, blissful love. It was the first time I had ever had sex outside and I think it was for Liam. We were there for nearly an hour writhing among the undergrowth before we finally got up and made our way back to the car. But as we walked back close to the motorway, holding hands and beaming smiles, passing motorists saw us and started beeping their horns. It was obvious what we had been up to and I was blushing bright red. So was Liam.”

They were never to be as happy again. After the concert, Cerice went backstage to congratulate Liam on his performance but could only find Noel. “I asked him where Liam was and he told me, 'He had to leave to catch a plane from Manchester for a concert in Germany tomorrow night. We're performing in Hamburg and he unexpectedly had to catch the flight tonight. I'll be flying over in the morning.'

“Bewildered, I went back to Noel's hotel where I met Simon, the band's cocaine supplier, and a record company executive. He told me he could get keys to Noel's room and I could sleep there. There were two single beds. I fell asleep in one and Simon and this fella slept on the floor, keeping the other one free for Noel.

“Then, at about 6am, Noel came into the room with a blonde and said, 'Oh, you're all in here.' Then he got into his bed with the girl and I went back to sleep. At 9am Noel got up and said, 'I'm going to Hamburg. I've told Liam you're OK and you'd phone him tonight.”

Later that day, Cerice phoned the Gallaghers' mum and she told her that Liam had phoned to pass on his apologies for missing her in the Scottish crowd. That night, Cerice managed to contact him herself.

“He was really angry and abrupt,” she said. “He told me, 'I need to talk to you face to face and not over the phone.' Then he slammed the phone down. I was distraught. He'd never spoken to me like that before and I couldn't understand why. Now I know. Noel told Liam I'd cheated on him and slept with Simon. A friend of mine told Liam it wasn't true. But he wouldn't believe her because it came from his own brother. He was shattered and went completely off the rails afterwards.

“We met just once when he returned to Manchester from Hamburg. I told him he shouldn't have treated me so badly. But we were both so angry and upset we couldn't even row. Instead he walked out of the door and out of my life. I haven't seen or heard from him since. He has never answered my calls. Noel must be delighted.”

After their split in August 1994, Cerice left Britain for Australia to get over the trauma. “It was while I was there that Oasis released Don't Look Back in Anger,” she said. “I tried to relate it to my own circumstances, but I can't look back in any other way. I have no anger towards Liam. But for Noel I have. I despise him. After we split up Liam was shattered and went completely off the rails. He simply hasn't been the same since.”

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x rancher male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: tyler's back in an old town he recognizes, and he recognizes someone else too.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.32k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: suggestive, but nothing explicit (like 1 kiss), very suggestive flirting

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler shoulda known that riding 'round here, stopping in this specific town, would've earned him a run in with you.

In fact, maybe he did. Maybe, some part of that subconscious of his remembered that this was your town, and your old haunt, and it made him stop and get the whole group motel rooms for the night here.

He recognized this town, recognized the bar he led his friends to, recognized the stage in the corner. Maybe he didn't recognize the new teen band performing there today, but they're familiar anyway: a chill drummer and a bassist and guitarist that always bump heads.

And finally, of course he recognized you.

You raise your glass toward him as he enters, beckoning him to sit down next to you at the bar. The rest of the group settles for a booth near the dance floor, leaving Ben to stand nervously at the door. The journalist eventually follows the group, though his eyes don't leave outlier.

"Hey sweetheart." He greets with a lazy smirk, ordering his choice of poison without looking at the bartender so he can look you in the eye.

"Hey stranger." You greet in turn, tipping your hat. "What brings you to town?"

"Well, the season drives me everywhere in Tornado Alley, you know." The liquid courage that makes its way into his hands and later down his throat feeds his smile, which grows wider.

"Should I be worried?" You joke.

"No, sweetie." The name makes you roll your eyes, like you always do when his endearing nicknames get used like that. "You know the brunt of it doesn't get here."

As the two of you mostly catch up, with the nicknames and flirting taking a backseat, Ben looks on. For once, he's not thinking about getting it on a paper, he's just curious. Tyler seems to know at least one person at each town they go on, but he's never seen him so...touchy? No, there's something about it Ben can't put his finger on.

"Eavesdropping, huh?" Lilly chimes in, leaning around Ben the same way the man leans over the corner of the booth seat.

Ben yelps audibly, but thankfully for him, not too loud. "No. No, I can't hear them from here." He shakes his head. In an attempt to hide his embarrasment, he replaces it with a question that'll distract her. "Who's he?"

"(Y/N), our food supplier. He sells for cheap for the tornado recovery meals and stuff." Lilly explains.

Dani, who was previously looking at Boone making a fool of himself on the dancefloor, chimes in. "Because ranches don't run on hopes and rainbows."

Lilly nods her head along.

"That's it?" His eyebrows furrow, and he leans over the corner again to sneak a glance. The two of you are so engrossed in your conversation that you're definitely not going to turn towards the booth, even if Tyler mentions the group.

"Well, rumor has it he's an old link." Lilly suggests with a laugh.

Ben doesn't know what the word means. "A boyfriend?"

"No," She smiles, clearly amused, "but let's just say that. You're probably wondering why you haven't heard anything about him."

Boone practically collapses onto the booth table before Lilly can continue. He steals a tall glass of water from someone and practically gulps down half of it in one go. None of the group seems to mind so much. As he catches his breath, he follows the groups' gaze to the pair at the bar. "Oh, (Y/N)? I didn't even realize he was here."

Dani laughs and pats his shoulder. "Yep. You gonna say hi, steal him for the dance floor?"

"Nah." He waves his hand dissmissively. "I bet the lovebirds are gonna bone. I'll see him at the hotel tomorrow morning."

Ben doesn't know that word either. Dexter whispers the meaning in his ear and his eyebrows raise. "So he is a boyfriend?"

"No." Boone straightens up and stretches. "At least, not anymore. They might've been high school sweethearts or something, but not anymore. While Tyler became a bull rider after high school, (Y/N) inherited his grandparents' farm and got straight to work."

Ben nodded along with the story. So that's how they got you as their supplier. "So they broke up–"

"Allegedly."

"–allegedly because they went down different paths?" Ben huffed. "If it was me, I would've tried."

Dexter chuckled at how the journalist accidentally insulted Tyler. He shook his head. "They might not have broken up. We just know they had a falling out when Tyler officially settled into the storm chaser profession."

"When we first got to 10k subs!" Boone chimes in.

"The food supplying was handled over text, and storm chasing is busy business, you know?" Ben nodded, so Dexter continued. "So then their relationship turned mostly transactional, and their affectionate bonds kind of disappeared, because Tyler didn't have time to reply."

"Wow, that sucks." Ben's empathy showed physically as he frowned. "What about off-season?"

"Disaster recovery is an extensive process." Dani reminded him. "We use (Y/N)'s goods after we get the folks to temporary homes as a kind of food stamp."

"And–?"

"They moved on." Lilly patted Ben on the shoulder reassuringly. "Storm chasing ain't for the weak-willed, Ben. It's all or nothing. You live for it, or you leave it, and someone has to manage the ranch, right?"

"So, basically, Tyler is dating storm chasing," Boone says with a toothy grin, "and has no time to date anyone else."

That's never stopped you from having your fun everytime he shows up around town.

"Storm Par still on your ass?" You ask, swirling your glass absentmindedly.

"As always." He laughs, drumming his own fingers against the wood of the bar countertop. "But we have a new genius in the crew!"

"Do you?" You raise a brow. He gestures in the direction of the booth with the tip of his hat, making you look. Everyone waves at you enthusiastically, even Boone, who you'd caught mid-sip, except for the new guy who shrinks back into the cushions. "The one with the glasses?"

"Yep, that's Ben." Tyler speaking brings your eyes back to him, as it always tends to do. "Journalist, has a way with words. He's going to write about our Tornado Wrangling crew, and storm chasing."

"Hmm," You hum low, kind of with displeasure. "you're not going to make him write about Storm Par too, are you?"

You had him pegged down to a T. He sighed, "Well..."

"That'll get him in trouble and you know it." You shoot him a disappointed look. He's been getting those more and more these days; or he has, since you got that ranch of yours.

To hide himself from the simmering shame it gives him and to get more courage, he downs the rest of his drink. "Yeah, but, um...let's just talk about us, yeah?"

You exchange a look. He smiles, you frown, it's a battle. Eventually, he wins, because how can you say no to him?

You roll your eyes, "You're lucky I miss you, Ty."

"Do you?" His eyes light up and he takes your free hand in his. He can't hide his joy, despite the fact you always say that every time you see each other.

"Yes I do, poppet." You huff out a laugh, "You're a twister of your own, you know? Leaving damage that reverberates for years."

He feigns offense, a hand over his heart. "I leave damage, huh?"

"Yep. You know what? I'm not the only one who misses you. The chickens miss you, the goats miss you, the cows miss you, the ranch dogs miss you." The entire list makes him laugh, but you're not done yet. "So do my horses, and hell, the ranch cats too. You know how hard it is for a ranch cat to get attached?"

"And Brisket?" Brisket, the little indoor dog. He was a puppy when they last met, Tyler wonders how big he's gotten now.

"Of course Brisket misses you." You groan, like it's really a big problem. "You met him as a puppy, he's wondering where his second dad went."

His eyebrows raised. Second dad? Whew, the subtle flirting is making him swoon. "Buy him a couple treats for me." He playfully reaches into his pocket for his wallet to further the joke.

"What is this, child support?" You glare at him with a fake snarl.

That makes Tyler laugh out loud. He reaches for both your hands, hoping the creases on your scary look will smooth out. "I promise I'll be a present father someday."

You roll your eyes again, except this time when they return to him, they soften. "When will that be?"

"How's tomorrow sound?" The smile returns too, and he loves it. "Oh, and you don't mind having five more little helpers, do you?"

"Sounds perfect." You squeeze his hands. "For how long?"

"Ehm..." He bites his lip, and your smile falters. "A day, maybe?"

"Darling..." You sigh, "That's not exactly a present father."

"I know, I know." He shakes his head, letting his gaze fall to your connected hands. "I'm a terrible father, a terrible man as well, to boot. Useless for this family as a hill of beans."

"Well," You shrug your shoulders, disconnecting one of your hands to cup his cheek and pull his gaze back up to you. "season's just starting, so I understand. Make me a promise, though."

"Oh?" This is new, not that Tyler cares for the substance of the promise. "Anything for you, baby."

"God, hear me out first, will you?" You shake your head. "It's two promises, actually. For tonight," With the hand on his cheek, you boop his nose. "we'll dance on that dance floor back there, and–"

"Ugh, seriously?" He groans preemptively. "I don't want that picture on Ben's article."

Tyler is a good dancer, he really is, but he's almost entirely sure that the predominant style of dancing in this here town is silly to those Brits out there and he's going to get mocked 'till high hell. Oh, whatever. All publicity is good publicty, aye? The Brits ought to know how a real man dances, anyway.

"–and, then we'll share your room."

"Woh-hoah."

Tyler's sure that, even if it were anyone else you were flirting with, they'd have caught onto your drift, because you are one hot man and that wink you consequentially send him is sexier than anything he's ever seen. Out of the sheets, of course.

"Cat got your tongue, darl'?" You chuckle, patting his cheek before pulling away confidently.

"No, no, it's just," His mind's still boggled by how handsome you are, so he blinks repeatedly to register all of it. "I'm swoonin' alright? Give me a moment."

He loves that little proud look you give him, and realy wants to return the flirting, even if he's already messed up the flow. Luckily it looks like you'll allow him to.

"Okay," He clears his throat, "why share a room, rancher? You live right on the outskirts o' town. I'm sure that bed of yours with grandma's handmade quilt is a lot nicer than my little hotel room."

Tyler knows damn well what you're going to do in that room, but he's playing along.

"Sometimes the company beats comfort, love." The way you call him love makes his knees weak. "Not that I'm in search for comfort tonight."

He laughs, a little too prolonged as he comes up with something in return. "And why do you reckon I'm good company?"

"You might just be any Alfalfa Desperado's dream: a big, strong man who's technically unemployed and knows how to ride a horse." It's as much an excuse as it is a distraction to shock him more with what comes next. "Plus, a twister like yourself is sure to tumble the sheets well."

"Rougher than an earthquake, I can guarantee that." He grins, sending a smooth wink of his own.

"Don't guarantee it." You huff out a laugh, "I'd have to pay you a little extra."

"I want that little extra." He makes a show of licking his lips. "Anything you can offer, I'll make sure to match, sweetheart."

The both of you are leaning closer everytime you send a comment or compliment. He's missed this, missed you, so much: the easy intimacy and smiles, winks and eventual kisses.

As your lips near, he realizes that all this flirting's making him forget that second promise you spoke of. "What was that second promise, anyway? Do I gotta agree to both to get tonight's?"

"Well, no," The way your inconspicuous eyes snap to the high corner of the room earns his intrigue. "but it'd certainly earn you a little bit o' brownie points."

"Hit me." He grins wide.

"Make a little time for me off-season," The heated atmosphere leaves as you begin, because your flirty facade melting into something less confident, more nervous. "a week, two, or maybe a month...like I said, Brisket misses you... If you can, that is! If not, like, no hard feelings–"

He doesn't like the way you said all that in a rush. He doesn't like that you say it as if it were silly and something he'd never agree to.

He cuts off your doubts with a quick kiss. "I swear."

Because he means it. He will, he swears it.

The way your eyes are on his when they flutter back open makes his heart swell. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me." He knocks his nose softly against yours. "I should've done that along time ago."

"Yes indeed, you should've!" You're back to being sassy, and the easy atmosphere comes back. He laughs, but he can't deny you.

He should've made time for you long ago. It's not something he can say whatever to, but he can say it's in the past now, and when the season ends, he'll make up for it.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: no bc how is this 2k words long