#you've gotta Trust the Vision

[yandere-daydreams]

i am FASCINATED by the placement of geto on the feral/domesticated axis. definitely agree that he's respectable but what has you so convinced he's feral?

i mean i do see it in the movie, the SMILES that man makes are craxy. but he feels so in control of himself, and not nearly as whimsical as gojo or sukuna. he has strong ideals and concrete plans that he follows through with rigidly.

no no no you have to open your mind to the Vision,,, the feral -> domesticated scale is less predictable -> unpredictable and more like 'actively seeking to be converted to an indoor cat' -> 'would refuse to be house trained out of principle'. gojo is silly but i strongly believe he would absolutely let himself be domesticated after experiencing .01 milliseconds of genuine affection. geto would not only bite the hand that feeds him but curl up in your lap and purr while you disinfect the puncture wounds. he can absolutely follow through on long-term plans which would normally leave him closer to the middle, but when those plans are to Kill Everyone Everywhere it sorta leaves him skewed away from the less-murderous side.

[ckret2]

Which are you personally going with for the obviously-3D pictures of Billy wearing sneakers: a) Billy in Sneakers is just a translation of one cute thing to a more 3D friendly cute thing, or b) We don't actually know how the second dimension works and it's wrapped and tangled in an incomprehensible and impossible to parse way that we limited beings shall never fully understand but which allows for sneakers? I could see you going either way tbh

God that's no contest, option A all the way. I've been working option A in every drawing I've made of Bill's dimension for well over a year. Option B's needlessly complicated for no benefit in a way that contradicts the lore we already have and that would open up a whole bunch of unnecessary cans of worms.

Bill all but says he's visually "translating" the image for our benefit. And we already know from Exwhylia in Journal 3 that Alex is well-versed in how physics & vision work in Flatland, and J3 heavily implied that Exwhylia is similar to Bill's home dimension. Sure, Bill says you'd need psychedelic food poisoning to fully understand his world, but the J3 Exwhylia page makes very clear that even if a human can see the lines that make up a world like his and understand intellectually what they represent, that doesn't mean you'd actually make sense of what you see—which accounts for Bill's claim just fine.

Combine that with all the themes Bill's universe borrows from Flatland (inability for normal people to see "up," a very conformist society, a plot based around one enlightened character futilely trying to teach the people around him about the third dimension, etc), and there's absolutely no good reason not to think his world's design is passably similar to Flatland or Exwhylia.

So, why do we all draw baby Billy and his family like this

instead of accurate to a Flatland-style 2D universe like this?

Because that ain't cute. rigid fidelity to the lore is less important than good storytelling and that means if you want to show your audience (i.e., us real people) how cute Bill was as a baby, you've gotta say "fuck it" to the lore and draw a cute triangle. Not draw a lore-accurate line and say "if you were a Euclidean that would look sooo cute to you, trust me bro." Making it actually look cute is what we all do as fanartists, and it's what the artists did in The Book of Bill.

Anyway who says his dimension needs to be some bizarre incomprehensible thing in order for him to wear sneakers? There's nothing stopping him from wearing squeaky sneakers in an accurate Flatland-style 2D universe. They'd just be built different. His shoes would look like an outline around his foot. Here, have an accurate Flatland-style 2D baby Bill (top down view) (with a squeaker in his sneaker)

I even kept the baseballs on his shoes.

[clawsdevour]

hq charas telling u hbd hcs

wc: 0.4k content warning: not proofread, all fluff headcanons!!

note: dedicated to my mutual, happy late birthday @laid-backcamp <3

❛ 。˳ ❀˚

-the type to chalantly spoil you rotten. They're walking around trying to seek you with presents occupying their field of vision. The moment they see you, they're running at you full force with gifts overbearing their hands while yelling out happy birthday.

"BABEE!!! HAPPPPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

charas: hinata shoyo, bokuto kotaro, nishinoya yu, oikawa tooru

─

-the type to start singing happy birthday to you loudly whenever they see you in an attempt to playfully taunt you while letting other people know it's your birthday because they want you to be treated like royalty on your special day. Of course at some point you just gotta walk up to them and slap your hand over their mouth.

"Hey hey, look it's the birthday girl!!! Happy birth-!"

charas: kuroo tetsuro, osamu miya, atsumu miya, lev haiba

─

-the type to make you small but memorable handmade items for your birthday. You're constantly at the back of their head, so what else would be perfect but a gift from the heart? They definitely worked on their little project days or maybe even weeks before your special day!

"Happy birthday love! Here's this gift I made you. It might not look like much but remember that I made you it out of love!!"

charas: daichi sawamura, akaashi keiji, kita shinsuke, tadashi yamaguchi

─

-the type to write you a little letter and give you money or lucky charm/keychain stashed in the envelope because they aren't sure what you'd like. Trust me, they do love you but they just don't know what to get you as a gift! They would believe that it'd be better off if they handed you money to get whatever you'd like or a little lucky charm/keychain.

"Happy birthday..! I didn't know exactly what to get you but I hope this could somehow make up for it."

charas: tsukishima kei, sakusa kiyoomi, kenma kozume, ushijima wakatoshi, kageyama tobio

─

-the type to make you a basket with a letter, snacks, a plushie, and things you've really wanted. In the letter, they written about why they got you a certain item, could just be because you talked about wanting it or if the item reminded them of you. They put so much thought into your birthday that they would forget about their own priorities.

"Happy birthday dear! This is for you, it's filled to the brim with your favorite sweet treats, and the stuffed animal you've had your eye on!"

charas: iwaizumi hajime, yaku morisuke, sugawara koshi

masterlist here

[melodic-haze]

Personally how touched starved do you think Arlecchino and Furina are? Like one has been alone for 500 years and the other killed her best friend and probably doesn’t think she deserves love.

☆ — DEMO TRACK: Arlecchino x Reader, Furina x Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Oh I think they'd be VERY fucking touch starved, except the two are like. On two different sides of the scale

On one end, you've got Furina. On the other end, you've got Arlecchino. What they're on a scale of? How "vocal" they would be in terms of it

Furina would be on the VERY vocal side, and by that I mean she WILL monologue to you about how she needs your touch or else she will PERISH from a lack of you-contact

Furina puts the back of her hand on her forehead, "My beloved wants to leave me be! Oh, you torture me..."

"Babe, I'm literally only going to get a glass of water."

"You forget my domain over the element!" She moves to throw herself onto you, wrapping her arms around your neck and causing you to laugh as you caught her, "I can satisfy your needs easily!"

"At that rate I'll be better off taking a shower!"

"It gets the job done!"

But she's not vocal for no reason :((( 500 years spent in self-isolation in order to save her people takes a HUGE toll on you so the moment Furina had realised that she doesn't have to do the whole song and dance all over again, she just can't help the want—the need—to basically be attached to you

It's not just because she wants to make up for lost time after FINALLY being able to do so, but also because she's scared that one day it'll all just go poof and disappear in a distant dream. She doesn't speak of her troubles until either she decides it herself that she should or one of the members of her Salon Solitaire (Crabaletta lol) decides to conk her for it

Sometimes she'll ask if she's being a pain in the ass bc she IS aware that she's constantly wanting for you to at LEAST be near her which. If you say she is then I need to sit you down personally and slap you in NOT a fun way

Meanwhile, Arlecchino on the other hand, is VERY quiet about it. She won't say anything, nevermind doing anything. She'd restrict herself from clinging onto you as much as she'd like to

You were a vision to her, a lovely sight to see and a lovely voice to hear as you recounted your day's events. Even when you did something so mundane, something that isn't necessarily something special, Arlecchino still looked at you with such adoration.

She almost didn't notice her hand inching closer towards yours from her warm daze.

Almost.

Before she could draw it back unnoticed, however, you turned your head at just the right (or wrong) time.

"Arlecchino? Is there.. something wrong?"

..She shakes her head instead of admitting her desires, "No, my apologies, darling. I was rather captivated by your tale. Do tell me more about your friend's predicament."

And so you do, but you couldn't help but notice the longing look in her eyes.

It takes a while before she starts warming up to the idea of letting herself actually do SOMETHING. And that'll take a lot of time, patience and encouragement from her❗️❗️❗️ But trust when I say it's worth it bc she practically treats you with so much more affection and devotion than the literal archon she serves HAHA

She doesn't thinks she deserves to show physical affection, to touch you, to truly worship you and your body in every way she can—not when she has the power to hurt you, not when she's killed off the person she had cherished the most all those years ago :(

You gotta reassure her that everything's okay and that you won't disappear bc once you've done that? She's SO TOUCHY she will NOT go through the day without havign some form of contact with you

She won't do it as much in work though she has a reputation she wants to keep lmao

[cherryrainn]

hello! i've noticed you've started writing for slashers now. can i pleaaaaseee get a chucky (show) x depressed/suicidal reader? like they come back from school and have a little breakdown and chucky does something about it cuz he has a soft spot for them?

STRIVE .

; pairing ; chucky x reader (platonic)

; note ; i love this little guy so much thank you for your ask aaa

; warnings ; implied/mentions of self-harm, self harm scars, depression, suicidal thoughts

the door slammed shut as you stumbled into your room, backpack dropping to the floor. the weight of the day pressed down on your shoulders, and the room felt like a suffocating mess. you kicked off your shoes, barely registering the mess around you.

little did you remember the small doll on your shelf, his tiny eyes watching your every move. he had an unusual soft spot for you.

your hands shook as you tried to pull yourself together, but the room seemed to spin with chaos. clothes were scattered, and the once-organized desk was now a disaster zone. your vision blurred with unshed tears, and in a moment of desperation, you swiped everything off the desk.

thunk.

a small sound caught your attention, and you looked down to see chucky lying on the floor, separated from his usual perch. his eyes seemed to convey a mix of concern and annoyance.

"aw, come on, kid. watch where you're throwin' stuff," he grumbled, picking himself up from the floor.

you blinked, recognizing the doll but not fully comprehending the situation. "chucky? what are you doing here?"

he rolled his eyes, a hint of impatience in his tiny features. "been keepin' an eye on you, remember? you look like you're having a.. rough day."

you sighed, running a hand through your disheveled hair. "it's more than a rough day. everything just feels... bad."

as you spoke, chucky's sharp eyes took in the state of your room, the disarray reflecting the chaos within you. when you absentmindedly reached for something, a small glint of metal catching the light, he noticed the blade in your hand.

"whoa, whoa, whoa! what do you think you're doing?" chucky's tone shifted from annoyance to genuine concern.

your gaze dropped to the blade, and a shaky breath escaped your lips. "i don't know. everything just hurts."

he huffed, shaking his tiny head. "you gotta cut that shit out." he realizes what he says and shakes his head "there's better ways to deal with this stuff. trust me."

without waiting for your response, chucky jumped onto the bed, grabbing a tissue box from the nightstand. he began tidying up the room, muttering to himself about how a clean space might help clear your head.

you watched in a mix of confusion and gratitude as chucky worked, helping you without a hint of his usual murderous intent. the doll's actions spoke louder than his words ever could, and slowly, the weight on your chest began to ease.

when the room was somewhat orderly, chucky hopped back onto the bed, giving you a small nod. "alright. let's see the damage you did to yourself," he said, his tone stern.

you hesitated, feeling a strange mix of shame and vulnerability. slowly, you revealed the self-inflicted wounds on your arms. the harsh reality of your actions was laid bare for chucky to see.

chucky's features turned grim as you revealed the scars and wounds that marred your skin.

"damn it. look at what you're doin' to yourself," chucky growled, a flicker of anger in his tiny eyes. "you think this is gonna solve anything?"

his words stung, but there was an odd sincerity in the way he spoke. you could tell he wasn't one for empty platitudes or gentle reassurances; he dealt in harsh realities.

"hurtin' yourself ain't gonna fix a damn thing. you're just addin' more pain."

you bit your lip, fighting back tears as the weight of chucky's honesty settled in the room.

"i know it's messed up, chucky," you admitted, your voice a whisper. "but what else am i supposed to do? talking to people doesn't help. it never does."

chucky sighed, his tiny features scowling. "yeah, talkin' ain't usually the answer. but this?" he gestured to your scars. "this sure as shit ain't either."

the small doll hopped off the bed, pacing the room as he continued, "you gotta find somethin' else, somethin' that makes you feel alive, even if it's just for a damn minute. for me, it's killin' people. it's what makes me feel alive, it's not about fixin' everything; it's about findin' somethin' worth hangin' on for."

"i get that,," you mumbled, wiping away a stray tear. "but it's hard."

he shot you a stern look, his tiny hands planted firmly on his hips. "life's a damn tough ride, kid. but you're tougher."

you stayed silent, looking down.

"come on," chucky said, suddenly shifting gears. "let's get you something to distract that fucked-up brain of yours. ever tried playing video games?"

you blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change in tone. "video games? really, chucky?"

he nodded, a sly grin crossing his plastic face. "trust me, it beats the hell out of scarin' yourself."

[roo-bastmoon]

Off My Chest

Rant about Hybe under the cut. I give you my word I will try to post a majority of positive content, because the world (and my mental health) doesn't need more negativity, but sometimes you just gotta vent.

Folks, if you've known me for a hot second, you've realized I am a Jimin-biased Jikooker... but I am OT7, and I sincerely love and support BTS.

I believe Jimin is a grown man who can advocate for himself and I believe Jungkook absolutely supports and adores him, whatever their relationship status is.

I always try to accentuate the positive and avoid online drama and negativity as much as possible, but I need to get this off my chest.

I will never be gas-lit into believing that the way Jimin was treated in solo era was fair, or equitable, or even made any kind of business-sense. I've genuinely tried to entertain other people's points of view and listen to people who claim to have industry expertise, but...

I will never forget his mail being tampered with four times, his leaked insurance information, denial of more music videos, overlapped solo release, only 9 days of promotion, split title tracks, no radio or play-listing, no bio for his Spotify for months, no restock of his single CD for months, hundreds of thousands of frozen and deleted sales, millions of culled streams, shady articles in WeVerse and Billboard, insulting dialogue in In the Seom, failure to submit to RIAA certification for months, only a paywall documentary on WeVerse, zero official acknowledgement of his Hot 100 #1, 1 billion streams on Spotify, or wins for The Fact, MAMA, and two Webbys, plus broken in-ears, anemic little balloons and a sad background tarp as decorations for his fan events… and the company telling him how doing more would just be impossible.

I compare all that to the push that other members and other groups got, and I know it just isn't true. It wasn't impossible.

Hell, Jeon Jungkook put in more effort to promote Jimin’s work and showed more respect for Jimin as an artist during his at-home lives than that whole company did, which honestly makes no sense from a profit standpoint.

I will never forget it, and I will not entertain arguments that say I’m a solo or an anti or jealous about it. I have eyes.

I am not out to shade any other members nor put forth any conspiracy theories. I simply want all our boys to get everything they justly deserve.

And yes, other members have suffered mishaps and neglect, but nothing of this scale, this consistently. It baffles me, I cannot understand it, and I'm done trying. Something strange was going on behind the scenes and we may never be privy to the details.

In trying to put this awful feeling behind me, I will say I am elated that Jikook are serving together and can support each other. I am glad there will be a Jikook travel show. I'm continually impressed with all of Jimin's success (in the military and professionally) despite all odds. I will always love and support all of BTS with my full heart.

And I sincerely hope the company has been taking notes and course-corrects for PJM2, even if it rubs some higher ups the wrong way if they had a different vision. Considering Jimin’s unique talents and his amazing star power—even his ability to bring Paris and New York to a screaming standstill just for the opportunity to see him exit a car—I would hope the company will “do their best to promote all labels and artists without discrimination” going forward.

But what happened truly sucked, and I needed to get that off my chest. I am not interested in further discussion or debate. I am now going to do my best to shift my focus and energy on to the things I want to manifest, instead of the things that enrage me.

So let me end on a positive and hopeful note: I put all my trust in Jimin, who signed a new contract with Hybe and who unfailingly adores all his members. There can be no love without trust. I will always do my best to trust BTS.

But I'm watching carefully. For Jimin and all our boys.

Love, Roo

[jasonstodger]

18+ / nsfw - "EXES EAT OUT!"

summary: smut (oral) | possessive behaviour | exes | fem!bodied reader

word count: 1.4k

“Jason, please, I know we’re not exactly friends anymore, but please-“ You limp across the roof towards him, the dirty streets of Gotham swimming below you in filth and misery.

“Y/n, You’re the… you’re the last person I’d ever help!”

“Jay…” you beg, your voice breaking. “Please. I can’t do this alone!”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” he snaps, his voice gruff and brimming with anger. He pushes you back, against the rough wall of the rooftop stairwell. “Don’t you fucking dare. Not after what you did.”

You hit the brick with a gasp, white shocks of pain stripping your nerves of sensibility, and for a second your vision flashes. Jason’s jaw ticks, eyes scathingly stripping your emotions bare as he holds you there, pinned by the shoulders. 

A large, gentle hand comes up to grip your jaw. Beneath the rich leather of his gloves, Jason’s touch is soft and careful as he tilts your head to examine the starbursts of purple pressed into the side of your jaw. His eyes narrow.

“What happened?” he asks sharply.

“J-Jay-”

“Shut up. Who did this to you?” he growls, his grip tightening some.

“Jason, please, I don’t - “

“I’m gonna kill them,” he seethes, letting you go with a harsh push back against the wall, and he runs a hand through his hair. You hear the creak of leather as he clenches his fists. “Tell me who did this to you.”

“Just some thug, it’s not important.”

“Bullshit! Someone laid their hands on you. They gotta pay for that, y/n, I can’t just- no one else is allowed to touch you!”

 His words are rough and fogged with chalky emotions, and he’s trembling, full bodied. Suddenly he comes towards you again, the turmoil raging in his eyes a reflection of your own. He touches your face again, his fingertips like a cool breeze against your face.

“How could you let them do this to you?” he cradles your jaw in his large palm.

You watch him closely, feeling the heat between your bodies despite the cold Gotham air. Jason's anger is intense, but there is something else there too, something that makes your heart race, even after all the hurt and pain that's passed between you.

"I didn't let them do anything," you say softly, leaning into his touch. "It was just bad luck. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Jason's eyes soften slightly, and he pulls you closer. "You always were too trusting," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your cheek. "That's why you need me."

You shiver at his touch, both from the cold and from the intensity of your feelings for him. "I don't need anyone," you say, even as you lean into him.

"Yes, you do," he insists, his voice rough with emotion. "You need me. And I need you."

He kisses you then, hard and passionately, his lips rough against yours. His arms wrap around you as he pulls you close, holding you tightly against him. You feel his muscles flex beneath his leather jacket, his body pressed against yours.

The kiss is bruising, but you don't care. All you can think about is how much you've missed him, how much you've longed for this. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back with everything you have.

When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and filled with emotion.

"I still love you, y/n," he whispers, his voice barely more than a rough growl.

And then he's kissing you again, his hands moving to the neckline of your shirt, lifting it up. You gasp as he presses you against the wall, grinding his body against yours. Your breath hitches as his lips mark your neck, his teeth gently biting down. You run your hands through his hair.

Jason pushes you against the wall, his hands encasing your waist as he kisses your chest, his teeth catching gently at the edge of your bra. His arms tighten around you, pulling you close. He grunts against your shoulder, and you can feel the desire in his touch.

You can feel the familiar heat between you, and hear the familiar heaviness in his breath. His hands slide down to your thighs, and you whimper at the feel of his rough fingertips against your bare skin. He pushes your pants down, and you moan as his lips brush against your crotch. He bites at the edge of your panties, tugging them down with his teeth.

"God, I've missed this," he moans, his warm breath against your pussy. His tongue runs the length of your slit, teasing your clit and making you shudder. He grins against you, tugging your pants off completely.

"You still taste so fucking good," he growls, his lips wrapping around your clit. You gasp, clawing at the wall behind you. His teeth bite down against you, sending a jolt of hot electricity darting down between your legs. He licks you again, his tongue rough against your sensitive skin. He groans against you, his breath hot against your thighs.

"Fuck," he moans, his hands gripping your ass. He pulls you closer, the rough fabric of his leather pants rubbing against your bare skin. He spreads your legs, looking up at you with a feral grin. "I haven't forgotten how much you love this."

He moves closer, his teeth grazing along the length of your slit. His tongue moves to your clit, and he teases you there, stroking you in quick, rough motions. He moans against you, his breath rasping as he fucks you with his tongue. He grunts against you, his hands moving to your hips. He holds you in place, his tongue moving faster.

"Jason," you gasp, clawing at the wall behind you for support.

You're gripping his hair, tugging him closer, unable to keep yourself from moaning as he eats you out. He grunts against you, his eyes flashing up to meet yours. His tongue moves faster, and you can feel your orgasm building between your legs.

"Mmm," he groans, his voice muffled by your wetness. "I can feel you getting close. I'm gonna make you cum, y/n. I'm gonna make you cum all over my fucking face."

You whimper, your body shivering in anticipation. His tongue flicks against your clit, and you gasp beneath him. He grins, his teeth grazing against you as his tongue slides across your pussy.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp, your breath catching. You bite your bottom lip, your fingers curling into his hair.

His tongue moves faster, flicking against your clit with rapid strokes. His hands grip your ass, and you cry out as his teeth graze against you.

"Jason!" you gasp, your pussy clenching around his tongue. He moans against you, his hot breath a hot rush against your wet pussy. You lose yourself, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

He grunts against you, his tongue moving faster as you writhe against him. He licks you slowly as your orgasm comes to an end, moaning against you, your cum coating his tongue. You collapse against the wall, your fingers sliding through his hair.

He leans up and kisses you then, his tongue moving across your lips. You can taste your own juices on him, tangy and strong. He breathes in deeply, holding you close.

"I could eat you out all fucking night," he growls, his lips against your neck.

"Mmm, yeah?" you murmur, your fingers moving to his leather pants. You can feel his erection straining against his pants, pulsing against your palm. "You wanna fuck me, Jason?"

He grabs your wrist before you can pull him closer. "No," he says, his voice low and dangerous. He kisses you, his lips rough against yours. "I wanna fuck you as hard as I can, y/n. I wanna fuck you so good you forget about everyone else."

His words send a hot rush through your body. "Now?" you ask, your fingers trailing down his chest.

"Later," he growls. He holds you close, his cock throbbing beneath his pants. "I'll fuck you later. I promise."

He pulls you into a fierce kiss, his tongue moving against yours. You can feel his erection pressing against you, and you know how much he wants you. He pulls away, his lips curled into a feral grin.

"Don't go," you plead.

"I'm not," he says, his grip on you tightening. "I'm never fucking leaving again, y/n."

[jelzorz]

174.

The Celestial elves say no. Of course they say no. Callum doesn't know what else he expected. Did he really think they could just waltz into the Star Scraper and ask to borrow the Nova Blade and a handful of quasar diamonds, and then get them, no questions asked?

His head still hurts from that vision, that dream that felt far too much like that time he'd collapsed after doing Dark Magic for the first time, and though he and Rayla have been granted a room for their trouble, the Nova Blade is still out of reach, and those quasar diamonds are embedded into that crown the blind priest refused to share. Rayla is lying on the bed, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of stars, dazed and a little defeated, he thinks, because those diamonds are the only way to free her parents, and they'll never get them, not like this, and meanwhile the sword—

Callum makes a face. He's been pacing up and down the length of the room for about twenty minutes because there is... one more thing they could try. One last chance to obtain the weapon that might save them all and the jewels that would free her parents. It's just... not a particularly bright idea. Not a very legal one, even here.

"What are you thinking?" asks Rayla at last. She sits up in the bed, wary, exhausted, like even she doubts their mission here is one they can complete. "You've been pacing for ages. Want to share with the class?"

Callum presses his lips together. "I don't know," he says after a moment. "I just... We need that sword and those diamonds, there's got to be a way to convince them—"

Rayla lets out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, no. I don't think there's anything we could say to change their minds."

"Yeah, but—"

She flops back down. "I dunno, Callum," she mumbles. "I want to get my parents out of those coins so bad, and I know you want that sword to use against Aaravos but... I don't think there's anything else we can do here. They've made it clear it's not happening and I... don't want to get my hopes up for nothing."

He grimaces then, hating how hopeless she sounds, hating the wobble in her voice and the way it makes his heart ache in ways he will never be able to explain. There's still that last resort, isn't there? The final chance to get everything they need in one go, with permission or without it, and it all comes down to what they are and aren't willing to do.

But that would mean—

He shakes his head. No. It's stupid. It's dangerous. It would bring the wrath of the Celestial elves right to Katolis' doorstep. Ezran would be furious, but it would also mean...

He glances at Rayla, at the way her eyes are dull and unseeing with resignation. His heart stutters for her, for the thought of her happily reunited with the people she loves most, the brilliance of her smile and the love she deserves.

Hasn't she done enough for everyone? Hasn't she sacrificed enough to get just one good thing?

"Don't give up yet," he decides. His resolve feels like steel and jelly at the same time, like he would do this for her, no question about it but ony as long as he doesn't give himself the time to think twice. Rayla turns her head to him, confused, daring to hope, and Callum closes his fingers into fists at his side, refusing go home empty handed, refusing to let Rayla down like so many others before him.

"Get your stuff together," he says. "Wait for me here. When I get back, you gotta be ready to run."

She narrows her eyes at him. "Callum."

"You trust me, right?"

She sits up slowly, suspicious of him, of the resolve in his eyes. "Yes," she says after a moment.

He swallows, his nerve wavering, just for a moment. Then he nods and clenches his jaw tight. "Back in a minute," he mutters, wrenching the door open before he can change his mind.

He would do anything for her. He's done worse.

Stealing is not the furthest he can fall.

[amywritesthings]

gingerbread sweet. / a reiner holiday ficlet

pairing: reiner braun x f!reader ( attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin ) word count: 1.1k summary: It's the Titan frat's annual gingerbread house competition. Your boyfriend, Reiner Braun, is determined to win. You, however, are determined to distract.

tags: modern au - university, holiday fluff, gingerbread houses, all the marleyans are in a frat bc i said so, devoted boyfriend!reiner, light sexual tension credit: dividers by @saradika

welcome to the eleventh day of the twelve days of amymas !!

“Does the door look crooked to you?”

"The what?"

"The door. Look at it."

There’s nothing more amusing than watching your hulk of a boyfriend crouch over a tiny gingerbread house.

Reiner Braun squints as he presses a gumdrop to the front — circular windows make it modern, or so he claims — then pauses.

Distracted by a very minor detail, you can already feel his anxiety running his brain a mile a minute: a lopsided door may deduct a few points from Marcel's arbitrary points system from this very arbitrary holiday competition.

Because he's absolutely fucking determined to win.

Granted, the bragging rights are his, but the grand prize will not be — Reiner, of course, rarely rides this hard for something he wants.

No, he’s too willing to put everyone else's wants and needs above his own.

So the grand prize of the Titan fraternity annual gingerbread house competition is going to go to you, hell or high water.

He’s going to win you that goddamn spa day gift card that Marcel has been dangling as a sweet little incentive no matter how long it takes him to mold this gingerbread house into his image.

"I think it looks straight."

The tip of his pink tongue pokes out a little from his pressed lips as he leans in closer. "...I trust your eye more than mine."

The blonde sits up to fish for the green icing piping bag. He's gentle with the way he eases the icing along the edges of the tiny confectionary door.

(An icing wreath, like this couldn't be anymore adorable.)

“Reiner?” you coo.

“Yeah, babe.”

Flat. He’s in the zone.

“You know you don’t have to slave over this thing, right?”

You scoot your chair closer to his, dropping your temple to his large tricep.

“I can buy my own spa day card.”

“False,” he corrects. “I’ll buy you the spa day card myself, but if I gotta cheat Porco out of winning for the third year in a row. Pieck’s gone at least five times on our dime.”

"When were the other two times?" you ask, not correlating the math.

"Well, our freshman year," Reiner begins, using the green icing to make little bushes at the foundation of the house, "we did a Valentine's day relay race that ended up with Bert in urgent care with a broken nose. Then, the one-and-only pool party chicken fight tournament — Pieck and Porco fought dirty."

"Is that why it was the one and only?"

"Yeah. Bert got another bloody nose, but that time from Annie going a little too hard."

He snorts.

"We had to save him from becoming the next Owen Wilson, so — no more chicken tournaments."

Titan frat is… well, excessively competitive, you've learned in your year or so of dating Reiner.

(Blame Porco and the new pledge, Eren Yeager, for only exasperating in this year with the month-long holiday challenges.)

You shrug a shoulder. “I could help.”

“And mess up your pretty nails?” Reiner shakes his head, glancing briefly through his peripheral vision. He smirks. “Ain’t no way.”

Right.

Reiner’s also very giving, during this season — in more ways than one.

First it was the fully-paid-for manicure yesterday.

Then it was the reservation for a Christmas Eve dinner to your favorite spot in the inner city.

Now he’s trying to win Marcel's approval in this ridiculous decorating contest in your name, and you feel… well, loved.

(There's no disputing that you've won the boyfriend lottery.)

Which, of course, means you have only one thing you can do in this situation.

He’s too wound up.

Distracted.

So you reach down to the pile of icing supplies strewn about, picking the small red accented tube.

You swipe some on the tip of your finger, mindful not to get it under your nails.

Reiner doesn’t even see it happening.

He’s too busy playing fixer-upper on the front side of the house, his too-big hands delicately toying with the too-small decorations he’s pasting on the cookie.

You wait a few seconds, letting him place the door where he wishes, before swiping the icing over the side of his neck.

Reiner tenses, turning to see what the hell just hit his neck, but he’s too late—

You’re already leaning in, sliding the tip of your tongue along his skin.

The man gasps, dropping his own piping bag to the supply assortment below.

“What are you—”

“Decorating,” you murmur nonsensically, grinning from ear to ear as his attention disappears completely from the gingerbread house to you.

“The guys are in the other room,” he rasps, eyes wide.

The pledges, he means — banished to the enclosed patio as they work on their own poorly-designed houses.

Through the last year while dating Reiner,  you’ve learned very quickly how sensitive he is.

Sometimes all it takes is a look to get him hard.

Your ego has never recovered, and it’s not deflating now.

Except his eyes soften and a gentle chuckle exits his throat when his golden eyes search your face.

“Wait, you got—”

“What?”

His hand gently cradles your jaw. 

“Hold still, baby.”

His thumb raises to swipe at your nose, where his smile only grows.

You stay still, obedient to his command, unable to stop looking at him.

God, he’s gorgeous.

He’s so fucking gor—

Something touches your lips, and you belatedly realize Reiner’s taken it upon himself to push the red icing along the seam of your lips, parting them easily.

You can taste the sugary sweetness on the tip of your tongue.

“Shit, sorry." When your brows knit in confusion, Reiner explains himself. "Seems like I missed a spot.”

Oh.

Oh.

His pupils dilate as his gaze drops to your lips, as if he’s ready to devour your whole.

Your entire body turns into flames.

“Just one spot?” you murmur, and a wicked smirk crawls to his mouth.

That same thumb drops to glide the remaining icing over your chin.

“I fear it's a couple of spots, but don't worry. I'll get you cleaned up.” He tilts his chin. “I take care of my girl, remember?”

(As if you could ever forget.)

His words get your blood pumping. Pledges and wandering eyes be damned.

“What about the gingerbread house?” you murmur, entranced by the way he continues absently swiping icing over your jaw, chin, and cheeks.

(Marking a trail his lips will devour.)

“We can bring the icing upstairs,” Reiner suggests with an innocent shrug. You know it’s anything but. “I’ll finish that damn house eventually, but I have something sweeter to tend to.”

Before you can say another word, the blonde stands from his chair and gently takes your hand into his.

You easily stand with him, unable to stop giggling as he tugs you eagerly upstairs.

He’s determined to win, yes, but to him —

He’s already won.

He has you, after all.

.

[millerscoffee]

dancing is a dangerous game | part three

"the only thing i'll ever ask of you, you've gotta promise not to stop when i say when," she sang.

6.8k | joel miller x f!reader

this is part 3 of the "dancing is a dangerous game" series | other parts below:

part one | part two | part three | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings (for this chapter): post-outbreak au. no ellie. no clickers. mentions of consensual non-con (spoiler: it's more that reader is nervous and is scared things will fuck up, so she tells joel not to stop if that tension in her rises). survivalist!joel, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), soft!dom joel, introduction of safe word, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv (unprotected), cum eating (whoops), biting, crying, fluff, angst, READER RIDES A HORSE! no use of y/n.

summary: within your second week at joel's, there are things you are forced to look within yourself. joel helps you through it.

A/N: i really appreciate all of the notes and comments for this series! i didn't know where it would lead when i wrote that first chapter, but it's all overwhelming and sweet! i know the last chapter was more plot, but i feel progression with these twooooo 👀

"I don't think it's trust." "Then. What. Is. It?" Joel moves over to you at the bed's edge, taking your chin in his warm hands. It's as if the breath got knocked out of you. Like he's doing what you asked without you realising it. "I can't–" you feel undeniably small. Tears fall easily when you look down at your laps side by side until your vision gets blurry. His booming stirs in you. Not fear, but not necessarily happiness. He's compelling you to look at patterns within yourself, it makes you want to break down. Panic threatening to tap at the door of your sternum. Just when Joel's index finger, large and calloused, curls under your chin. It gently coaxes you to lock eyes and your lip wavers. "You're doing so good," when he says it, voice like honey in comparison to the rough-textured grip he has on your face, your heart races.

When Joel back turns around, his eyes are dark. Like he’s thirsty, but would only drink if you let him. He’s deliberate in brushing past you on his way up to the loft, his presence lingering just at the end of the stairs. “Come to bed.” It’s simple, and what you come to learn, is Joel’s way of asking. He don’t. But he gives you room to make the choice. You don’t recall your eyes even scanning the living room. They only land on the broad frame in front of you, and you follow it like a beacon of light. Beginning your second week, you don’t sleep on the couch anymore.

You're skittish when reach the top of the loft.

What if he expected something from you? What if it was more than what you were willing to give?

What did you want to give?

"It's nice up here," an attempt to purchase to any sort of gravity. Anything to make sense of just how you ended up in the situation in the first place. The feeling of Joel's lips still very much present on your own.

But your eyes stay at the ground, more in your own head than you are able to look at the man you're in front of. Joel tilts his head to catch your gaze.

"You sayin' that to me, or y'erself?"

"Oh... uh... to you. To you." You flash a crooked, but distant smile.

"Hey," Joel hushes, walks over to you, his frame seeming somehow even larger in the petite space. "If this is too much, we can get you back down there. Y'know. Extra blankets."

"No–" you object so quickly you have to clear your throat. "I mean... no. I want to stay. Just..."

"Hadn't shared a bed with someone?"

"Not in a long time." You think of your past lover. The warmth the two of you made together under makeshift tents and old buildings with shitty furniture. Taking turns sleeping while keeping an eye out for danger. This was different, and so were the circumstances.

Joel walks over to what you presume is at least the start of his side of the bed before his inevitable migration to the centre of it at night, and gets undressed until he's left in his boxers. Unlike when the two of you had sex and he wasn't wearing anything under his jeans. It was like he didn't know you were gonna be up there with him tonight.

"We'll take it slow, if that's what you want." Climbing into bed, Joel opens the opposing side of the blankets for you. His hair slick back from your fingers combing through it downstairs. Orbs seeking to learn your quiet demeanor. He looks sweet. Patient, even.

How could you say no to that? Not when he's being so compassionate. And certainly not when he's giving you the choice.

The temptation to be vulnerable could kill you. Could be dangerous.

Then again, the situations you continuously put yourself in before you met Joel had more consequences than getting in this man's bed. A man who was shifting your perspective. He didn't seem like any other person that entered your life only to leave it.

You choose to ignore the expiration date in a few short weeks.

So you abandon your jeans. Neatly fold them in a chair tucked away in the corner of the room. Everything in slow motion to quell the reality of your emotions towards the man you currently have your back to. The man who made you feel melted and was being uncharacteristically open with you long before whiskey was involved.

Not that the whiskey mattered, you weren't really feeling its effects anymore anyway. This experience had you both to a sober, cognitive state. You had control of yourself considering how out of control you felt on the inside.

In your underwear you stand with a blue cotton t-shirt that just grazed the crease of your bottom and your exhales are shakier than you'd like to admit.

Because if you admit it, then it's true.

If you admit it, he could have a lot more control over you than you knew what to do with.

"Joel," you sound faraway when you break the silence. Back still to him, you tilt your chin at your shoulder before closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. You can't believe what you're about to say.

"If I tell you to stop, I don't want you to listen," Tears wick at your eyes, blinking them away rapidly before turning to face Joel directly. You can't bring yourself to look at him, yet.

And he's silent.

"Because if we start this... it–it's not gonna be easy for me," you your hands, shaking them off as if the energy could ease by doing it. Pleased when it kind of works. "I'm not gonna be easy, and I don't mean sexually...," you laugh pitifully, "My impulses may make me want to stop. From what I've... god I sound so pathetic, from what I've been through." Teeth grit, tears fall, "It could be too much. And, too–," sentences chop, "I want this. If we start this I don't think I could stop. Which sounds counterintuitive, but... yeah."

You want to fucking vomit from exposing yourself this way. Your mind swirling from the brain break you just gave yourself. Did any of it make sense? Did you come all the way up the ladder just to ruin any chance of being close to him? Why did you want to be close to him? You feel like an idiot, to put it crassly. A credulous girl making hasty decisions only to retrieve back into complacency.

These thoughts flood your mind and you're sure the storm is evident as it crosses your brow. So caught up in forbidding your heart to find resolution that you can't see what's in front of you.

What's been in front of you, if only you'd pluck it.

When you finally land on him, he looks concerned. Like he's taking in every word you say and committing it to memory. He doesn't move from his spot, but he does sit up straighter. Body language letting you know he is open, but not withdrawing.

"You want... this," he repeats you, but in his voice it sounds more seductive. Did you say it this seductively? "And you want me to keep going if you say no...,"

"Sounds kinda worse when you say it out loud." You mumble.

"You trust me."

That makes your face screw up. Shoulders creep towards your ears, the bridge of your nose collides on itself.

"Trust. I don't... I don't do that."

"Well, what else would y'call this request?"

Climbing on the edge of the bed, you sit on it in contemplation. What else could this be? Surveying the room, you come back to him in your line of sight and the furrow of his brow – soft, but covetous – makes you swallow hard.

You have two choices: hit the wall you put up. The one you'd been hitting every day for a week, or you could push through it.

"I don't think it's trust."

"Then. What. Is. It?" Joel moves over to you at the bed's edge, taking your chin in his warm hands. It's as if the breath got knocked out of you. Like he's doing what you asked without you realising it.

"I can't–" you feel undeniably small. Tears fall easily when you look down at your laps side by side until your vision gets blurry. His booming stirs in you. Not fear, but not necessarily happiness. He's compelling you to look at patterns within yourself, it makes you want to break down. Panic threatening to tap at the door of your sternum.

Just when Joel's index finger, large and calloused, curls under your chin. It gently coaxes you to lock eyes and your lip wavers. "You're doing so good," when he says it, voice like honey in comparison to the rough-textured grip he has on your face, your heart races.

This simple act triggers your fight or flight, but you choose to stay and confront this. It helped that any of your other thoughts were ripped from you. All there ever could be was the thumping hum of him in your hippocampus, burning your memories alive. Joel.

"Taking all this in, so well, angel. I know it's for a reason, but I need you to say it. And I need you to mean it. If you want this as bad as you do," his nose brushes against the tip of yours, "you can do it."

It's definitely not the magic of him that clouds your mind. It's more of the fact that this human in front of you, someone who could have killed you, could have just run you off after fucking you – is showing devotion in making sure you find this. That you use your voice. Like he's dangling a key right in front of you, and all you have to do is tell him the truth.

A key to your paradise.

Staring at his lips, you tempt forward, but he pulls away just a centimetre. Not so fast, not until you give me what I want.

You exhale through your nose in reflection. Close your eyes like you're about to jump, and maybe you are.

Jumping off into nothing.

Worse, jumping into something.

His hand moves to the side of your neck, and that causes your own hand to move over his. As small as you feel in his grasp, you try to hold him, too.

"I don't know how this happened," you mutter like you're cursing yourself, but your eyes open. Melting into Joel's touch. "I don't know how you did it, but I... I trust you."

It doesn't register immediately that you are holding your breath as soon as you say it. Half expecting the world to explode, or eight thousand clickers eat at your flesh. Something bad because any time you let someone in, something bad happened. Your superstitions getting the best of you.

But there is no earthquake. No slew of cordyceps-infested human shells scurrying up the stairs– well, ladder.

It's softer. It's solid. It's Joel wrapping you up in his arms, making light work in picking you up to land you gently on the bed that you soon realise is more comfortable than it looks.

Joel's face is a mix of admiration and determination. You can see by the flare of his nostrils that he's proud of you. And you don't know why, but basking under his pride brings a sense of peace you'd long forgotten. It wasn't that you needed his stare to appreciate yourself, but there was no mistaking the safety it gave you.

Your worry doesn't simply melt, though. You meant what you said in that you weren't sure you could do this. Legs spread wide to accommodate the width of his frame, and your breath hitches when he takes the pillow from behind you and guides your head down onto it. Treating you like a delicate thing makes you wonder what it would be like if you did soften. If you did allow yourself to become malleable beneath the grasp of someone so new, but had such hold on you. Not for him, but for yourself. What would it be like to trust? Fully. Under conditions that were so harsh outside the two of you in this moment. Could it be done?

The chatter in your mind stops at the drop of a hat when Joel leans down to kiss you. Even more curious than downstairs, your bodies find it easy to meld together.

You're grateful for Joel's lips to dim the thoughts reeling of what could or couldn't happen. He fills your senses, facial hair brushing against your features, and you're amazed at how that pout of his sends prickles to your skin. How skilled he is in wielding your mind to quiet, and your core to pay attention. All of the blood rushing downward in your haze.

Joel's tongue is the first to tempt in. It brushes into the tangle of your kiss. It's cliche to say it feels like heaven, but you imagine that's what it is like if you had to guess. Like a quiet white, nothing else but the feeling of him and your breaths taking up space as you give yourself permission to move your hands. Fingers snake up his hair, the backs of your knuckles brushing over the old scar at his left cheek down to his jaw. You feel him shudder above you, and wrap his large paw around your wrists to stop you. It makes your heart skip to feel how tender is he knowing you have felt his strength.

It's a secret shared between the two of you that he can be this disarming. And you keep it tight to your chest.

You focus on the heat emitting from his skin. Like he's burning the candle at both ends and his stomach creates all this centralised heat. Your bare legs brush against each other and the sensation from this and his weight brings you direct, but silent communication that this feels good to him, too. That he needs this as much as you do, and wants you. You yet to decipher if it's merely physical.

You don't realise it right away, that your hips are squirming beneath the weight that is the man kissing you like his life depends on it. This makes him pull away from the kiss, and right when you let out a whimper you can feel how damp the fabric clings to your folds.

"Can you hold still?" He's asking you, but it's out of genuine curiosity than a scold. And now that you think about it, now that you're an inch apart you can feel the heat of you radiate from your cheeks, lips, neck, chest. Splotched and muddy, you wonder what you must look like. You manage a weak nod, he nods back, going in for your neck.

"Joel," you gasp, hands moving against his wrists that tighten the tiniest amount against the pressure. His teeth graze over your heartbeat, littering open kisses over the skin and you moan at the same time as him when he sucks. Taking the skin of your neck between his lips and turning marks out of it. Urging you to slip completely under. Your body feels pliable to him, your moans turn to quiet whimpers as he pulls back again. Admiring his work, he rolls his thumbs over the insides of your wrists individually.

"Look at you," he suspires and it's in contrast from when he said it with your ass in the air for him a week ago. It makes you feel adored, whether he did or not. You are stronger than to let tears come up, and you don't. But you know you could if you thought about it long enough. "Gorgeous."

You blush, a full smile tugging your mouth and he pauses, tilting his head. Like he's learning what you like, and taking you in at the same time. "You're being a good girl. You know that, dontchu?"

Oh.

You nod, but it's hard not to bite your lip at that and you're aching now. Your need for him too strong than succumb to your need to guard. Your gesture makes Joel smirk, the tips of his fingers at the base of your shirt and he peels it up to your chest, just at the underside of your breasts and his eyes shift from a golden brown to black in the endeavours of his own hunger. You aren't alarmed that he isn't saying anything, and really it's nice to not verbalise your desires. It was already so difficult for you.

He knows.

And he finds it as no surprise, the keen noises you make when Joel's teeth sink into your flank right under your ribs, but it doesn't tickle surprisingly. Instead it feels good, like an itch you've been wanting to scratch. Like your sides have this constraint from your holding that he's chewing out. His mouth travels up, nosing past the fabric to kiss and suck over the shape of your breasts before cupping his lips around one of your nipples, keeping the other preoccupied under his thumb.

You let out a heady sigh, his whiskers prodding into your skin in the best possible way. His eyes slip shut, and you take in the way his eyelashes splay across his cheeks. It would be innocent if the work he's doing on the peaked bit of your flesh wasn't sending a direct signal to your clit. "Joel, I–"

He pops his mouth off of you instantly. Like your words break a spell, gaze soft and round when they look up at you. "This okay?" You bite down a groan when you hear just how fucked he sounds. Fucked like you sounded when he all but caught you cumming on his couch.

You nod, but he's not so lenient this time. "Words, darlin'."

"This is okay."

"Just okay?"

That seemed to be more of a challenge than a question or disappointment. As if he could do better, go deeper as he explored what you liked.

But you want his mouth back on you, to feel him and not just to quiet your mind. To genuinely feel him take you, and you let out a whine in response. "Joel, you know."

"I can't know unless you tell me, baby."

The slip of this pet name knocks your breath out. Half naked on his bed, your nipples glistening from his spit. Your hand smooths over the side of his neck and you tilt your head down to look at him better. He's being brave, and so should you.

"It feels good. It makes me want more." You're blushing now. To admit that, to tell him you want more – out loud with your words rather than the bucking of your hips leaves you feeling more naked despite being exposed.

But it's the green light Joel needs from you. To know you want him like this as opposed to the first time the two of you got stripped down. It was just you who was naked, then. It was him who was calling the shots. You blink in awareness that he's giving you the reigns in the way he knows how.

Giving you the reigns in light grasp while he takes the rest of the lead, tight in his palms.

He is background hum. He is thunder loud and present – you never see it, but you feel the humidity, and when he grows closer, the wind that moves your hair.

This is what it's like to hand over control to him. He knows what to do with it and he doesn't make you guilty for holding it. You're learning that of him, just as he's learning you.

Affection drips when his brushes his nose against the inside of your tits, lips trailing down your stomach until he grows increasingly aware of the ache between your legs. The pool of wetness slicking over the fabric of your underwear.

This makes him drone, low and hungry, and you blink up at the ceiling because fuck what if he didn't like it? Now wasn't the time for your self-consciousness to invade your thoughts, but it sat with you when you licked your lips – just before sitting on your elbows to get a better look at him.

You didn't do this last time. What if he wasn't into you?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath. Nope, definitely not. He's into you. While his lips press and teeth nip at the insides of your thighs, your breath hitches in the process. "Wet for me?" His question rhetorical, he thumbs over the blotch in your panties and that is enough to make you whine. For your hips to raise.

He pauses then with a serious look about him.

"Say red if it's too much. Understood?" You nod and he pulls his head away, producing a mewl from you. Desperate for contact. "Repeat it." Your eyes roll back all on their own and it feels like sandpaper to swallow from your dry throat.

"If it is too much I will let you know by saying red." Though the words felt formal, the delicious growl coming from Joel's throat lets you know it was exactly the correct way to form the words.

Because he's peeling your undies off completely, giving him a good view of what's in store. "I missed this," he admits and you blush deeper than you did when he was being corporeal. The exhales cool your dampened skin as he gets closer. Wraps his hands around your hips while keeping your legs secure underneath his flexed arms.

His eyes dance between yours and your cunt. Like he's watching what gets you twitching for him, and he's found that it's a mixture between his words and the way he stares at you like you're his last meal. Hard not to, to be fair.

It starts with his tongue at your entrance, like you're letting yourself pour over his tongue and he likes that. His grunts flush your clit, a buzz of him under your skin when he finally presses his tongue inside you. You both let out a sigh of relief by this. And you would run your fingers through his hair if he'd let you, but while he's wrapped his hands around your hips, your arms are on either side of those strong arms. He's subconsciously saying to you: you're not going anywhere, you're going to take it.

And that sends your head to spin. Your chest rises and falls irregularly to the feeling of him ghosting his pouty mouth over your folds until your clit is on fire just to be touched. "J-Joel," it's faint, like you can barely get it out.

"Mm?" He's busy.

"I... I need–"

"What is it, angel?" He asked a lot of rhetorical questions, his breath warm against your sex. "You want this?" His tongue ghosts over your clit and he has to use force to keep your hips in place in order for you to not buck his teeth out.

"Joel!" The sight of your hardened nipples makes him mutter under his breath again, his teeth lightly grazing over the sensitive nub.

You choke a whine, curling your fingers into themselves.

"Is that it?"

"P-please. Please!"

"Manners. Such a sweet little thing." His tongue flicks his tease against the hood of your clit and you practically howl in response. "Taste just as sweet, too."

To say your core is sticky is an understatement, your thighs pull apart slightly every now and then and it feels like effort to pull them apart from just how wet you are. Joel's mouth, Joel's fucking mouth, makes a meal of you then. Tongue rolling and flicking over the glistening skin until he finds sucking is what takes you there above all else.

His plush lips press around the nub of nerves, pulling it into his mouth with such a rush it makes you a whimpering mess far to quickly than you want to be. Thighs trembling involuntarily.

You'd only thought about this from the first day he fucked you. What his mouth would feel like right where it is, and it doesn't disappoint.

You're reduced to a slack jaw, his tongue skilled at the repetitious movements that send you to your climax.

"Cou-could I – fingers?" You quite literally can't get another word out of yourself. You're close, but he obliges – perfectly timed as his middle finger presses inside; working tandem with his tongue. He seems to like the way you feel by the noises he makes, the spongy spot inside you easy to find when you're like this. But that's just Joel, you knew that now. Nothing was hidden when he was in charge of your pleasure.

Although just one, his finger feels thick inside you. Way bigger than yours, and the steady push/pull of his while his mouth sucks on your clit is just too much not to submit to.

So it's volcanic, the eruption within you.

Seriously, it's like one moment you're not cumming and the next your pelvis and thighs are shifting like tectonic plates beneath him. Writhing and igniting with every axon that starts from the core of you and traverses your limbs. You're a mess, physically and mentally. No real words coming out, just a slew of curses and Joel's name as if it is a profanity in itself.

And with the way he's keeping his mouth tightened on you until you've reached it, you aren't too sure his name isn't a blasphemous word that should be left from your lips every second of the day.

On the comedown, your body spasms. Small noises leave your throat until it's a bounded release of giggles, your arm slung over your eyes. "What the fuck have you done?" Fucking giggles. You're giggling for the first time in... god knows how long.

Your sentence is slurred and sloppy, rubbing your eyes as if you're taking your time before you must face him. His soft eyes, mindful kisses along the insides of your thighs – each one sending a signal to your brain to jolt a little each time. Then you feel it, or well, you don't feel it anymore. His finger leaving you empty, an ache you want back.

"Is it such a bad thing?" When he speaks, you notice how hooded his eyes look like this. He's thoroughly enjoying himself, his tongue laps at your folds one last time for the night, mindful to miss the central core of you.

"I don't think so." An honest revelation.

When he comes up, his middle finger tempts your lips from where he was and you aren't shy when you wrap your lips around his finger, cleaning yourself off of him. You reach down when you pop your lips off of him, your hand eager to find his length that's straining beneath the fabric.

But Joel swats your hand away when you tempt it near him, "You’re not doin' that. Not right now." You can see the outline of it, like what's between his legs is begging a different story. Joel, however, has his arm draped around you so heavy that the weight of him won't let you do much else other than drift off to sleep.

"I'll get you back," you warn, yawning into the air. Face greeting the crease of his neck.

"We'll see, darlin'."

You drift off. Your top on, him in his boxers. In bed with a man who was making you understand trust could be on the table without transaction.

---

You wake before sunrise.

It's just the sound of your lungs sharing oxygen in the same space, you shift your body to face his. His back is to you, but you can make out the way his shoulders slope in the dark.

You like this Joel. Not because he's asleep, but because there was no holding between the two of you. Both easy to contract, but seeing him as pliable as you were last night tugs you.

Any pretense disappears until you are both left with your wanting; lying in wait.

And that drives a fire within you. You move forward, your breasts pressing against the broad scope of his back. It's warm, the scent behind his neck lulls you deeper into relaxation until you close your eyes. But Joel's a light sleeper, and the slightest movement towards him wakes him up. He's cautious not to stir right away.

Joel turns then. Fluid in its motion, he faces you. Arms wrap around you, flex and strengthen against the soft frame of your body. Rolling on top of you, your legs come apart naturally and he is warm from the bed. This version of him isn't much changed from last night, but he's more involved in his own taking than accounting for yourself – a grown woman who can make her own resolutions. You choose to stay under him, and he picks up on that.

Your mouths collide in the dark, touching and searching each other and you're slick from its gathering of your night's sleep. Right at the core, he presses his hips down and you respond in your own wave up to meet his. It's easy to slip off your shirt, leaving it abandoned somewhere in the sheets.

His boxers come down enough, then, to feel his cock thump against your folds and you inhale sharply – needing him more and more. He's hard, dripping, white hot against your skin. You clench around nothing before his hand guides himself through the slick of you, tempting over your clit before going back down. "I need you, too," thick with sleep, you groan at the sound of him and the sound of your slick being slipped against.

He's slow, only holding the tip at your entrance and you wriggle – becoming wide awake now with the width of him at your ache. "Please," you whisper, and he indulges. Doesn't make a fuss. Because he wants this, too. Wants you. Said it himself.

"You feel so damn good, swallowin' my tip like that." His face buries into your neck, lazy and sleepy when you wrap your legs around his waist. Fingernails engage his skin when he pushes, stretching you wider and deeper. It feels different from last night. More complete with this involved, too. Your lips brush against his neck while you shiver and experience. In the break of dawn with sleep lines still on both of your skins. It starts off gentle, at least.

Keeping it together is arduous, like you're both bursting at the seams to... let it all go. You have the opportunity to say it, to tell him you want this. It's everything you were explaining last night. How you want this, but it could be difficult to express. And if you were wriggling away from it, you didn't want him to stop.

One minor detail, though. You weren't wriggling away.

Physically, your legs spread further apart, your hand reaching down to touch him. Inviting the tips of your fingers to graze the bed of coarse hairs that resided just above his cock. His breath hitches then, and you both roll your hips; up and down respectively. Allowing him to go deeper, and he is deeper.

"You feel that?" His grip now on the side of your neck, keeping your eyes poured into his – even in the indigo of dawn – and your moans are turned to nothing but choking mewls when you nod. "S-so big," not that he needed his ego stroked, it's the only thing you can think about.

He's blocking any other sense having you like this. You feel every twitch, the rush of his cock growing harder inside you, if that were even possible. Your eyes flutter back in your skull for a moment in time.

"That's what you do to me, baby." His hips are merciless in the way they recoil against yours over and over. The sounds of your skin slapping mesh with the squelching of your cunt. Your hands moving to his head, fingers in his hair and you share the same breath – his exhales, your inhales and the other way around. Leaving you both dizzy and on the precipice.

Your hair sticks to the sides of your neck that he's abandoned to rest his forearms on either side of your head, fingers lost just above your head as he holds you together like this. His eye contact isn't as intimidating as it was before, and this time you crave it. The sun's coming up and it's seeping through the window that he built with the same fucking hands that are tugging your hair to look at him. His cock pulling all the way out to thrust all the way in, and he repeats the process. Tits bouncing, claws finding purchase on the sheets, on anything while he fucks you like this. A wonder fleets of how he can even keep up like this for his age, but it's washed away as soon as it comes. Your toes curling, a guttural scream of his name coming from you when your release is found. Cream coating his cock, you think you're there, but that's when you hear him.

"Easy, baby. That's it. That's fuckin' it, don't you dare fuckin' stop for me. Cum all over this cock. You can take it, that's it." His words send stars to your eyes, mouth lax just like last night but you don't remember. You don't remember anything other than the feeling of him pounding you into his mattress that is rattling and squeaking because fuck, it feels like it could break at any moment. "Joel!" You mean to say more, you really do, but it's too much to. Not while he's fucking and talking you through it, not while his own orgasm hits him when he feels the twitching of your clenched cunt around his cock. Tightening and releasing repeatedly through your bliss.

"Shit, darlin' – fuck!" Joel leaves you as late as he can, and it still feel too soon. He palms his cock a couple of strokes before spilling his hot cum over your stomach and that was sexy enough, but the sounds he's making. The animalistic grunts found through the structure of his nose has you blinking up at him like he's the most magnificent thing you've ever seen.

Maybe he is.

And you wonder then, what it would feel like to have his seed buried inside you, but you don't ask for it.

It's not the right time.

Sun cascades itself through the sky, leaving the room lilac and blue. You're both panting, his body half on you, half on the bed.

"Y'good? Y'okay?" You hear him, but it's muffled from his arm that's over your shoulder, his face plastered into the side of your bruised neck from last night.

"Mmn," you respond, but make an annoyed sound when he's soon to sit up. He looks worried over your body.

"Shit– gotta clean y'up. Sorry 'bout that."

But you smirk instead, thumbing over the pool at your stomach. You bring it up to your mouth with your eyes round and wet when they gaze into his, sucking it clean. "I got it."

Joel blinks with a look of arousal and a grin spread across his face as if to say, what am I going to do with you? "Dirty girl."

"You like it."

"Not wrong."

---

Midway through your second week, it's early when you both start off your chores for the day. You try to pacify the idea of you two being some sort of post-apocalyptic cowboys on a homestead that barely has the proper tools to sustain it half the time. It works for the both of you.

Outside the air is thick, but sky clear as you walk towards the stables. And there's Joel, exactly where you knew he would be. Bent down on his knees, working on the same project you were last week on the stables.

Security and routine close cousins to abandonment and disappointment – this plays in the background of your thoughts. You intentionally swallow it down as you approach him.

"Could I ride her?" You come into his line of vision, and you see him make a sweet face of happy to see you and did I hear you correctly?

"You can ride?" His question has amusement in it, and you scoff – grin tugging at your face. Ignoring the blatant double entendre that he probably didn't even mean to slip out, anyway. But Joel is pleased when you pick up on it because he did in fact say it on purpose.

Of course he did.

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet, Miller."

Joel grunts on his way up onto his feet, bowing graciously. "Go right ahead, ma'am."

She's set up to ride when you approach her and you reach out to scratch behind her ear before saddling up on top of her.

"Hey, girl," you smile, petting over the coarse hair of her back. She's gentle, but not exactly willing to go straight away. It makes you laugh, and the ease of tension makes it easier for her to trot. "Same here, sister." You snicker to yourself, and the horse takes you out of the stables. You mostly let her do the leading, but she's easy to work with as you take her around the land Joel has claimed for himself.

There's a freedom you haven't experienced in so long while you're riding her. You remember being a kid on the back of your dad's horse, the wind against your skin like this. The prospect of new. You slow her down in your approach back to the stables after a few minutes.

When you come back, you're welcomed by Joel's clapping hands a toothy smile across his face that hurts in the best way. His pride and entertainment.

Joel basking in this side of you as you open up to him.

"Damn, maybe you could give me some lessons, darlin'. You teach yourself that?"

You appreciate him not assuming someone taught you how to do this, but the truth is you were. "My dad, actually. He taught me how to ride a horse, how to shoot a gun–"

"Not well on that last one," he jabs, motioning towards his leg you purposefully missed.

"You don't know what you don't know."

For a moment, you forget. All that burned to the ground in your previous life. Your father dying in your arms. All of it.

"She and I had a talk," you start, climbing out of the stirrups.

"Oh, did you?" Joel lifts his brow, urging you to go on.

"Her name is Bandit."

"Like you?"

"Like me."

"Figures."

---

You're both asleep up in the loft. Each morning, you were beginning to notice that Joel's night terrors were becoming less and less frequent. Subsequently, so were your own.

That was until one night you were awoken by the sound of your own sobbing, and Joel's arms tight around you. He knew not to wake you up, but he was too concerned not to try to settle you down.

"W-what?" Your voice is groggy, palpitations in your chest high. Confusion suffuses you.

"Shh, s'okay. Close y'er eyes."

Joel feels bad for waking you up, he didn't mean to. He thought he was doing the right thing. Yet even though it takes takes you awhile to fall back asleep, you do fall asleep and stay asleep.

His arm stuck around you. His protection like a blanket.

Joel's eyes stay open until they cannot and slumber creeps up for him.

All in the pursuit of your safety. He doesn't mention it, doesn't ask questions or bring it up.

---

It feels pleasant with Joel. The two of you have a routine of working on your individual duties in the day, but you always come back to each other in the evening. He's rough around the edges, there's still things that he's keeping to himself. But you don't mind because you are too, and there's no rush.

The leisure of this is what takes you by surprise the most. Not Joel being kind, or slow, or even sweet to you.

It's the fact that in the middle of chaos, you have found a pocket of serenity. The stillness between breaths.

Towards the end of your second week at Joel's, you find it brave to drape your calves over his lap while you both read worn books that have been well-loved and repeatedly grazed. In the living room you've chosen poetry tonight. Audre Lorde. Because it's there and it feels appropriate to go for poetry.

You hum to yourself when you read something striking, and now Joel is curious.

"Let's hear it," he calls, not moving his eyes from his own pages and his free palm curls over your shin.

"You want me to perform for you?"

"Quit bein' weird and just read it."

You laugh, licking over your lips before theatrically clearing your throat.

"Kinda liked it better when you were shy," Joel adds, but you know he doesn't mean it.

"You'll get used to it. Okay. Let's see... 'Always / in the middle of our bloodiest battles / you lay down your arms / like flowering mines / to conqueror me home.'"

There's a long pause between the two of you.

"I don't get it."

"You're a bad liar."

"Flowerin' mines don't even exist."

"Joel–" you huff, but that's what he wanted out of you. A response, a reaction, a rise. He puts down his book to look over to you and he's at mercy to your gaze.

"I know what you mean."

It's supported, this comfortable silence. The underbelly of what was the start of a bloodied battle. Unwillingness metamorphosing into a budding bouquet of trust.

You both go back to your books.

No need to say what is right in front of you.

He knew what you meant. Understanding.

It was all you wanted.

taglist: @cool-iguana - comment to be added!

[spiritualitygeek]

~ PAC: Your Mystical Mosaic ~

Where is your current energy leading you?

Disclaimer:

This pac is for entertainment purpose only. I am not liable for any actions or decisions taken or made based on the information presented in the reading. The interpretations and insights are subjective and open to individual perception. Please use your own judgment and intuition when applying the messages to your life or situation. Thank you!

Pile 1 ~ 🪄

the fool, 9op, aoc

All positive cards for you, Pile 1, which is amazing! I can clearly see you're about to embark on a new journey with a very positive and determined mindset. You're fearlessly diving into new adventures just for the thrill of it, without caring about what others think or even expect out of you. You exude a very warm and gentle energy, like someone who has faced challenges in life but hasn't let them dim their light. Your loving and joyful nature attracts people towards you, and you might find yourself being a natural healer to those in need.

Your current energy is attracting abundance, creativity, and happiness into your life. It's like a box full of blessings is on its way to you. You're manifesting your biggest desires, whether it's financial independence, glowup, specific person, or something else you deeply yearn for.

In this new journey, there's a strong possibility of finding a new love interest or forming a deep connection with a new best friend. For those not seeking romantic or platonic relationships, you could discover a new hobby or passion that brings you immense joy.

You've been seeking signs from the universe about your life purpose and career, and it seems like you're finding your true passion. Your faith in the divine timing is unwavering, and you're manifesting your dreams through pure belief.

If you're currently in the flow of life, trusting in the universe's plan, you're on the right path and a true winner. Your understanding of this concept sets you apart and leads you towards a fulfilling and abundant future.

Pile 2 🦋

the temperance, 8ow, knight-os

Okay Pile 2, you legit need to calm down/slow down. I just heard, "Hold your horses!" Your energy is everywhere.

What's the rush, love? You're running too fast as if there's a train or a flight you gotta catch. You're feeling as if you're running out of time, or that you're lacking behind. You're ambitious and it's good to be. But moving so fast and without caring to think before you act can sometimes put you in undesirable spot. It has happened with me recently and it happens almost all the time? I am quite like that myself. Sometimes, it can be out of overconfidence, other times it's anxiety. It's crucial to know the reasons and work on them.

I'm getting Mars dominant, Mars in first house or Aries/Scorpio energy. I'm a Scorpio moon and I have Mars in my first house so girl, I get you! I really do!

With the Temperance card, angels advise you to attain that balance, harmony, and modesty. You are encouraged to seek a middle ground, to balance opposing forces, and deal with circumstances carefully and composedly. In addition, it takes self-control and patience to get through life's challenges. You don't have to be so ferocious, fiesty, and overwhelmed. You're getting my point?

Also, are you juggling a lot and all on your own? You don't need to do everything on your own. Are you for real? I know you're awkward around people and you don't like asking for help but there's no loss in trying, love. There are people who are more than willing to help you. Atleast, ask them?

Lastly, I'd like to conclude with the fact that I saw the number 8 in my vision while shuffling for you and the card that came out was 8 of Wands and then I saw number 8 on my phone suddenly. So it's an 888. It can be a sign. Something you've been seeing frequently these days? Please check for the meaning of 888 angel number and decide what could it mean for you.

Pile 3 💭

8os, 5os, 5owX

Pile 3, I'm seeing you being trapped or restricted in a cage/prison, a prison you've built around yourself or have surrendered yourself, possibly due to past actions which you deem as mistakes. There's someone in your close circle of friends or family who you're mad at. For some of you, it's yourself who you're blaming! For not taking that leap of faith, or for leaving that job that offered you stability. For not being patient enough or not being careful enough. For not allowing you to be you or for not having enough freedom to try everything you wanted to.

You're feeling trapped in a cycle. A cycle that's repetitive, too mundane that you're sick of it. You want to go away to leave it all behind. You don't like the way things are. The way you are? And you're blaming them/yourself for it.

I know my words would come off harsh, but you're acting like a victim, not realising you can choose not to be one. It's not about survival, it's about existing! Life is a gift. And you're a divine being! Count your blessings instead of mishaps and you'll see a drastic change in everything, including your mindset. "Attitude of gratitude" ever heard of it?

Currently, you might be attracting situations that reflect the need to break free from self-imposed limitations and negative thought patterns. Financial problems, weakening relationships, unhappy job situation. You're aimlessly wandering for that funding for your project and so on...

You're determined, more than ever right now to go get it! But trust me anything that you start with this negativity within you, will only bring disaster in its wake. The self doubt and victimization will only bring more of it. There's things that need to be addressed. Matters that need to be resolved. Don't run away from them. Face your fears. Confront it head on! Don't avoid conflict. Be it with your own conscience or with your family/friends. The person or situation you're blaming, forgive them. Let go of them! It's nobody's fault. It doesn't have to be.

This combination of cards is your call to embrace self-empowerment, letting go of past grudges and forgiving yourself and others for past mistakes. What's done is done! Past is past for a reason. You have control over your present and future though. It's essential to confront any inner conflicts or self-doubt to find a sense of peace and clarity in your life.

The advice for you is to take a step back and reassess your current situation. Look for opportunities to release negative energy and work towards healing any emotional wounds. Embrace a more open and compassionate approach to yourself and others, as this will help attract positive and harmonious energies into your life. Remember, you have the power to overcome obstacles and create a more balanced and fulfilling future. Blaming yourself and others never helps. Trust me, I've been there!

Thank you all for taking the time to read my pac. I hope the insights resonated with you and provided some guidance. If you found this helpful, I'd be grateful if you consider following me for more spiritual content and future tarot readings. Wishing you all love, light, and positivity on your journey! ✨

- with love, Snow ❄️

Enjoyed the reading? Tip me here~

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift (Part II)

GUILTY AS SIN?

I hadn't heard it in a while.

My boredom's bone deep.

This cage was once just fine.

Am I allowed to cry?

I dream of cracking locks.

Crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox.

I'm seeing visions.

Am I bad, or mad, or wise?

What if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

Oh, what a way to die.

I keep recalling things we never did.

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

There's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.

We've already done it in my head.

Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

What if I roll the stone away?

They're gonna crucify me anyway

What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly.

I choose you and me, religiously.

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME?

You don’t get to tell me about sad.

If you wanted me dead you should’ve just said.

Nothing makes me feel more alive.

Who’s afraid of little old me?

You don’t get to tell me you feel bad.

Is it a wonder I broke?

Let’s hear one morе joke.

Then we could all just laugh until I cry.

I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean.

Don’t you worry folks, we took out all her teeth.

So tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?

Say they didn’t do it to hurt me, but what if they did?

I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

All you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs.

I’m always drunk on my own tears, isn’t that what they all said?

I’ll sue you if you step on my lawn.

I’m fearsome, and I’m wretched and I’m wrong.

Put narcotics into all of my songs and that’s why you’re still singing along.

You lured me and you hurt me and you taught me.

You caged me and then you called me crazy.

I am what I am 'cause you trained me.

I CAN FIX HIM (NO REALLY I CAN)

The smoke cloud billows out his mouth like a freight train through a small town.

The jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud.

God, help her.

I told them he's my man

I can fix him, no, really, I can.

The dopamine races through his brain on a six-lane Texas highway.

His hands so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face.

I could see it from a mile away.

A perfect case for my certain skill set.

He had a halo of the highest gradе.

He just hadn't met me yеt.

Good boy, that's right.

Come close.

I'll show you Heaven if you'll be an angel, all mine.

Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man.

LOML

Who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames?

We were just kids, babe.

I don't mind, it takes time.

I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed.

I felt a glow like this, never before and never since.

If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary.

You said I'm the love of your life.

You took me to hell too.

A con man sells a fool a "get love quick" scheme.

I felt a hole like this, never before and ever since.

What we thought was for all time was momentary.

Mr. Steal-Your-Girl, then make her cry.

You shit-talked me under the table.

I wish I could unrecall how we almost had it all.

It was legendary.

It was momentary.

It was unnecessary.

Should've let it stay buried.

What a valiant roar.

What a bland goodbye.

The coward claimed he was a lion.

I'm combing through the braids of lies.

Our field of dreams engulfed in fire.

I'll still see until I die.

You're the loss of my life.

I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART

I can read your mind.

She's having the time of her life.

I can show you lies.

I'm a real tough kid.

I can handle my shit.

They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it till you make it" And I did.

Lights, camera, bitch, smile.

He said he'd love me all his life.

All the piеces of me shatterеd as the crowd was chanting "More".

I was grinnin' like I'm winnin'.

I can do it with a broken heart.

I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day.

I'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague.

I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art.

You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

I can hold my breath.

I've been doing it since he left.

I keep finding his things in drawers.

I didn't imagine the whole thing.

'Cause I'm miserable and nobody even knows.

THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED

Was any of it true?

Who the fuck was that guy?.

Now you know what it feels like

I don't even want you back.

I don't miss what we had.

Could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived?

You didn't measure up in any measurе of a man

Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

Were you writing a book?

Were you a sleeper cell spy?

In fifty years will all this be declassified?

You'll confess why you did it and I'll say, "Good riddance".

It wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

I would've died for your sins, instead I just died inside.

You deserve prison, but you won't get time.

You said normal girls were "boring", but you were gone by the morning.

You kicked out the stage lights, but you're still performing.

You are what you did.

I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive.

THE ALCHEMY

This happens once every few lifetimes.

These chemicals hit me like white wine.

What if I told you I'm back?

The hospital was a drag.

Worst sleep that I ever had.

I circled you on a map.

I haven't come around in so long.

I'm coming back so strong.

Ditch the clowns, get the crown.

Baby, I'm the one to be.

The sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me.

Honestly, who are we to fight thе alchemy?.

Hey, you, what if I told you we'rе cool?

That child's play back in school is forgiven under my rule.

I'm making a comeback to where I belong

We've been on a winning streak.

There was no chance trying to be the greatest in the league.

He just comes, running over to me.

CLARA BOW

All your life, did you know, you'd be picked like a rose?

I'm not trying to exaggerate, but I think I might die if it happened to me.

No one in my small town thought I'd see the lights of Manhattan.

This town is fake but you're the real thing.

Take the glory, give everything.

Promise to be dazzling.

The crowd goes wild at her fingertips.

No one in my small town thought I'd meet these suits in LA.

You're the real queen.

You're the new god we're worshipping.

Beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours demanding more.

Only when your girlish glow flickers just so.

It's hell on earth to be heavenly.

Them's the brakes, they don't come gently.

You've got edge, she never did.

The future's bright, dazzling.

[reidslovely]

kinda craving frat!peter angst like i need my feelings to be hurt (with a happy ending ofc)

"literally don't fucking look at me!" you whisper yelled at him, hands clenched in fists at your side. nails digging into the skin there. you've only ever heard of being so angry you see stars. but here you are with spots in your vision.

peter swallowed a scoff that hung in his throat, looking away. he bounced on his feet, hands knocking against each other as he worked to calm himself down.

"do you not want this anymore? do you not want me anymore? did i..was i not enough?"

"course you're fuckin' enough. i tell you that all the time." he drug his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. "felicia is a old friend that i just happen to have briefly dated. but it's not fucking like that anymore. okay i told her"

you look away shaking your head, not at him but at yourself for crying ."..don't fucking look away." the switch in his tone jarred you.it went from empathetic to calm and demanding. he wants you to hear him.

"i told her..told her that i was in a relationship now and she backed off. whatever nate sent you, or whoever it was and trust me i'll figure out who it was and i'll deal with it." he's getting angry again, you can tell from the raise in his chest and the way he's talking with his hands.

"it's out of context."

you look at him with tears on your cheeks, wiping them off rapidly. "can ii touch you?" peter asks walking towards you slowly, you nodded your head swallowing. peter's hands reached out brushing the hair that stuck to your tear stained face away.

"you have no reason to believe me. but i swear to you it's the truth, i've never lied to you. i'll never lie to you."

"can i hear it from her?" you ask. "can i check the bar footage?" maybe it sounded crazy, but you just wanted to know what his reaction would be.

peter nodded his head, arms wrapped around your shoulders. "i can get her on the phone right now, give you her instagram anything. and we can go to trixe's to the morning and ask for the footage if that's what you need to believe me."

his lips pressed against your temple, your rested against his shoulder sighing.

"let me sleep on it."

"okay. and while you do that ii've gotta go have a talk with one of my brothers." peter sees quietly against your head.

"ii wanna be there when that happens, can it wait till tomorrow also bugs?" you asked, the nickname easing the mood slightly.

"course baby, come on." he walked you both to the bed, still entangled.

[1shcakes]

UIS Chapter 1

When MK came to his senses, he was greeted by a blinding light. He winced, his head pounding.

"Where am I?"

He tried to sit up, but a sudden sharp pain shot through his body.

"Argh! My… my back…"

He could barely move. His body felt heavy, like it was weighed down by some invisible force.

"MK, are you awake?"

The familiar voice echoed in his ears. He knew that voice.

"Macaque?"

"Yes, it's me. Don't worry, you're safe."

Safe? How could he be safe when his whole body hurt?

"What… what happened?"

"You fell, but I caught you. Don't worry, I won't let you get hurt. I won't let anyone else get hurt."

Macaque's voice was calm and reassuring, but his face was full of concern.

"I need you to stay calm. You need to breathe, and focus. You're going to be okay."

"Breathe… and focus.."

As soon as those words left his lips, his vision began to clear.

"Good, good. Just keep breathing, and focus on my voice."

As he regained his senses, the first thing he noticed was a strong smell of incense burning somewhere nearby. Then, the faint sound of a steady heartbeat filled his ears. He blinked, trying to get his bearings. He was lying on a bed, in a dimly lit room. He could make out the faint silhouette of Macaque sitting next to him, watching over him.

"How do you feel?"

"My… my back hurts," he groaned. "It feels like I was stabbed by a bunch of needles."

"You did just suddenly fall unconscious, so it's normal that your back would hurt."

"And the headache.."

"That too."

He rubbed his temples, trying to soothe the throbbing pain.

"Do you remember anything?"

"No. Everything's still a bit hazy. And I gotta say, you're really caring for someone who's usually SO full of himself, Macaque." He nudged his shoulder lightly, trying to add a bit of humor in this… not so fitting situation.

"Hey, watch it," Macaque retorted, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile. "And for the record, I'm only looking out for you because you're the king's favorite. If I let anything happen to you, I'd never hear the end of it."

"You're a real warrior, aren't you?"

"Whatever. Now, let's get you up. We've got work to do."

With a grunt, Macaque pulled MK up, slinging his arm over his shoulder.

"Whoa, easy. Let's take it slow, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah.."

As Macaque helped him get his bearings, the door swung open, revealing a distressed Tang.

"MK! What happened?!"

"Nothing. Just a headache-"

"Pigsy and I were so worried about you! We thought something bad had happened."

"Tang, please calm down. He's fine."

"Fine? He's not fine! He collapsed out of nowhere and hit his head on the table! Plus, look at his arm!"

Tang pointed to the large gash on MK's left arm.

"I'm fine, really. It's just a scratch. Nothing a little bandage won't fix."

"A scratch?! It looks like you were mauled by a wild animal! Come here, let me take a look at it."

"Tang, don't. If what we know about this.. 'infection' is true, we should probably just wrap it in a bandage and leave it alone. And wear gloves, probably."

"Macaque, are you sure? That seems like a rather severe wound, and I'd hate to see it get worse."

"We've seen worse, trust me. It'll be fine."

"I suppose you're right."

Tang sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a roll of gauze.

"Here, let me bandage it up."

Macaque carefully wrapped the bandage around MK's wound, tying it securely.

"There, that should do it. Now, MK, don't even think about touching the wound. When 2 days pass, we're going to replace it, alright? You can do this, bud."

"Right.."

Tang watched the exchange with an uneasy expression, but didn't say anything. Instead, he turned his attention back to Macaque.

"What do you mean, you've seen worse?"

"Wukong."

"Ah. Right. I'll, uh… leave you two to it, then."

Tang cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to leave, but before he could, a sudden flash of pain shot through MK's body, causing him to cry out in agony.

"Kid!"

"Ow ow ow ow!"

"What's wrong?!"

"It hurts!"

Macaque quickly moved closer to him, gently placing a hand on his back.

"Stay still, MK. I've got you."

"It hurts everywhere! Oh, god, my head… my arm… it's like something's trying to crawl out of my body…"

Tang watched the scene with horror, his mind spinning with dire predictions.

"This can't be good…"

He swallowed hard and looked over at Pigsy, who stood by his side.

"Pigsy, we have to do something! This can't go on!"

In 'old married couple' fashion, Pigsy held Tang's hand in his own.

"Tang, there's not much we can do. Let Macaque handle it, 'cuz he was there to experience it in the first place. We have to be careful around the kid, it could be worse for us."

"Pigsy! It could be worse for us? Don't you get it? It could be worse for MK! He could be infected like the Monkey King! This isn't some small bug, this is something life-threatening, and you're treating it like it's some common cold!"

"Calm down! We're all going through some stress right now, aight? Don't start shouting like a lunatic when we're trying to focus here."

"I am not shouting! I just don't understand how you can be so calm when our boy's life could be at stake! What if the ink spreads to the point where he's barely even human anymore?! Do you really want to see MK like that?! Huh?!"

"Now listen here-"

"You're being impossible, Pigsy, I can't believe you're doing this!"

"Shut up! I don't need you screaming at me all the damn time, Tang! What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Do I gotta be all cheerful and hopeful 24/7 now?! 'Cuz let me tell you, I'm not gonna be like that!"

"Pigsy-"

"Don't 'Pigsy' me! I'm not some stupid kid you can just tell to calm down, alright? We're not kids anymore! If you got something to say, you can say it like an adult!"

Tang was about to say something before the distressed screaming of MK cut him off before he could even get a word in.

"Shit." Macaque mumbled to himself, running over to MK and cradling his head as he kept on screaming and squirming in pain.

"What… What the hell do I do, kid?"

MK kept on screaming, not seeming to hear a thing Macaque said, writhing in pain on the bed as if he were possessed by the ink himself.

"Argh! Shut up, kid, shut up!" Macaque shouted, hoping the sound of his voice would break through MK's panic. But his words fell on deaf ears as the screaming continued.

Pigsy and Tang were just about ready to run over to the poor kid to see what was going on with him before he jerked and suddenly sat up, running towards the bathroom.

He was about to vomit, but it was too late.

MK fell down onto the floor and threw up a pile of black sludge onto the tiles.

---

Mei lay in her bed, scrolling through her phone. Her fingers swiped lazily through social media posts.

"Hmm. Nothing interesting going on in Monkiegram right now.. might go to MK's place and play Monkey Mech with him."

Mei sighed as she tossed her phone onto her nightstand. The glow of the screen dimmed, leaving the room in a soft, ambient light.

She shifted in her bed, the thoughts of the mundane scrolling through social media not providing the distraction she craved.

With a sudden decision, she pushed herself up and off the bed, the plush carpet under her feet muffling her steps as she made her way to the door.

---

The sun shone brightly through the window, painting the entire world in a vibrant orange hue.

As Mei stepped outside, she inhaled deeply, taking in the freshness of the morning air as she walked briskly along the pavement.

"Wow. It smells great out here today.."

She paused momentarily, closing her eyes as she inhaled deeply again. A breeze tickled her face, making her feel relaxed and refreshed.

Suddenly, her stomach grumbled loudly, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before.

"Oh, man, I haven't had lunch yet, have I? Well, good thing I'm headed towards ol' Pigsy's, might snag a bowl from Tang if I'm lucky! Mmm, I can just imagine the smell of the noodle soup!"

Feeling energized from walking, Mei picked up the pace, hurrying towards Pigsy's store.

As she rounded the corner, however, she came to a stop as she saw the "CLOSED" sign at the noodle shop. Mei couldn't help but stare blankly at the sign before her, her brow furrowed in confusion. She looked back and forth between the shop and the sign a few times, trying to figure out why no one was inside.

After looking around a bit more, she shrugged and began to walk away from the shop before she heard a loud clattering sound coming from MK's apartment, which was on top the shop.

"Wait, what? Did someone break in!?"

Without hesitation, Mei dashed towards the entrance of the shop, only to find the door locked, and a piece of paper taped neatly to the glass. She removed the piece of paper and read it, noticing that it read "Sorry. Please come back tomorrow".

Mei crumpled up the paper and tossed it somewhere without a second thought. Maybe Pigsy wouldn't mind anyway. Then she kicked the door open using a trick she saw online.

"Hey! Hey, Pigsy? Are you in there?"

She glanced around the shop, finding nothing else to indicate that anyone was home.

"Um… hello?" She called out, raising her eyebrows in concern. "Is anybody here?"

No response.

With that, Mei decided to look around further. As she passed the counter, she could hear muffled arguing from upstairs. Curiosity getting the better of her, she crept up the stairs until she reached the hallway, peering into the first door she came across. Inside, she found Macaque kneeling on the ground, his arm around MK as he dry-heaved.

As soon as he saw Mei, he raised his head with a frightened expression.

"Mei. Don't come any closer."

"Eh? Why not?"

"Just stay back please… I, uh…. I'll explain everything later. Just keep back, okay? You shouldn't see this kind of stuff."

"But, but I wanna know what's going on!"

"I said I'll explain later! Just stay back!"

Mei frowned. "Fine. But I swear if you hurt my friend or anything, I will personally shove this sword where the sun don't shine."

Macaque let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. And don't do that."

"Yeah yeah… Whatever. Now, are you going to give me answers, or what?"

"I promise, I'll tell you everything."

"I hope so."

The two remained silent for a while as Macaque patted MK's back while MK was suffering.

"O-Okay, I think I'm done…" MK sighed, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"Are you feeling better? How are your symptoms? Can you tell me?"

"Better, yeah. My throat still hurts though. And my body feels weak…"

"That's to be expected, considering what happened to you yesterday. Also, Mei's here to visit you."

Mei waved awkwardly at MK, who gave her a warm smile.

"Now, Macaque? Care to explain what happened to my best friend? Or are you not telling me something important?"

"Ah… well, I… actually have a lot of explaining to do, if you want to hear it."

"It must have been pretty bad, if you're acting like this."

Cue Macaque catching Mei up on everything. From the events leading up to it, to what happened after they left the dojo, to their current situation. The story ended with them sitting in silence, contemplating everything that had been said.

Macaque was the first one to speak up again.

"So, what do you think? Do you believe us now?"

"… I honestly don't know, Mac."

Next

[felassan]

A conversation/interview video with Mark Darrah called "Mark Darrah on Mass Effect, open world games, and sustaining a fandom (Channel 44 Chat)": [source and watch link]

Video description:

"Fred and Dan chat with Mark Darrah about his career at BioWare, including his work on Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Baldur's Gate, and more. Join the veteran game devs as they discuss the art of storytelling in an open world, and highlight the influence of The Ur-Quan Masters on the Mass Effect series. 0:00 - Theme music 0:14 - Introductions 1:54 - Ur-Quan Masters and Mass Effect 4:14 - Exploring open worlds 10:25 - Storytelling in open worlds 12:18 - Multiplayer storytelling 23:27 - Main content vs side content 25:14 - What do fandoms like 30:30 - Storytelling techniques 34:18 - Making games in teams 43:25 - Conflicting visions and Dragon Age: Inquisition 53:23 - Making a satisfying sequel 1:10:56 - Mark and UQM"

Some quotes under the cut:

"Now I'm consulting with [BioWare] on finishing up Dragon Age: Dreadwolf right now." (Introductions segment. it sounds like the video was recorded around Thanksgiving/the holiday period in 2023)

"Something that Mass Effect 2 struggled with is a lot of people just went planet-scanning, for, like, they basically planet-scanned every single planet, stopped playing the game, planet-scanned every single planet and then sort've picked it up. So it's almost like they had, ME2 for some people turned into essentially three games: everything you did before you started planet-scanning, all of the planet-scanning, and then 'in the end'. And then a lot of people just kinda stopped playing in the middle of planet-scanning because it was pretty thin. So I think if you want people to dip in and out you do sometimes kind of have to force the issue. So something that was discussed after the fact for ME2 was, you know, if the Normandy can only carry 9 probes or something, then it's like, you go out, probe 9 planets, then you gotta do something else, get more probes." "If you want people to be dipping in and out, it's important to push them back and forth somehow. So if they're on the critical path, there's something that's gonna push them back out into the open world, if that's what you want them to do. Dragon Age: Inquisition does that with Power. You need more Power in order to advance the crit path. So you've reached a blocking point, you have to engage in the open world. Now what DA:I didn't do a very good job of was, now that you're out in the open world, pushing you back to the critical path. So you've got some people kinda getting lost out there forever." (Exploring open worlds segment)

"If there’s too much there, if everything is in the box, like, 'I’m gonna give you the box and it contains literally the entire universe', then there’s nothing to kinda chew on. You want there to be unanswered questions and things to think like, 'well how did we get into this situation? Let’s talk about it on the Reddit board/post'. In fact, I’ve seen this happen with Dragon Age games when, like, David Gaider, back when BioWare had its own forums, would go into the discussions about lore and stuff, and answer the questions. They didn’t really want that. But they thought they did, but when he did it it just, it just sucks all the life out of the conversation, because if I’m like, ‘oh, I really wonder if maybe the Qunari are secretly bird people??’. And someone comes in, ‘no, they’re not’, and you’re like ‘ohh… well.. Okay…’" (What do fandoms like segment)

"With a Dragon Age game, you're sort've trying to get people, the writers thinking from the perspective of, imagine this is a television show, or a movie or something like that, and if you wouldn't say it out loud in a television show or a movie you probably don't, you probably shouldn't be saying it out loud or writing it down in this game. But it's still incredibly expensive to do cinematics. So sometimes you succeed at that, you get them to trust, and that trust is, maybe not misplaced, but simply we didn't have the budget to do the three minute long cinematic that would've been a better way to do this and in fact we needed you to say, 'and then a castle full of castles crashed into another castle and blew the entire universe up'. Like you're not filming that. You gotta just say that. Or you gotta find another way to do it through visual storytelling, like during a 2D scene or something. So I guess my short answer is I don't know that I've ever successfully gotten the departments to fully trust the others to do this properly." (Storytelling techniques segment)

"One thing that has been a struggle for me is even just getting players to engage in the environment art. Like, it's the most expensive thing in your entire game, in most cases, and a lot of times players just sorta stare at the minimap and dive around on the minimap and it's like well, wait a minute, why are we spending all this money on this beautiful vista if you're not even looking at it?" (Storytelling techniques segment)

[source]

[crimsonredfeathers]

Leaving

~*~ Chapter 10 ~*~

Hawks x slightly older!fem!Reader

Warnings: just more fluff and some teasing on Hawks' side

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: Does anyone else think of Hawks being the biggest tease in the world, but like, it's impossible to be mad at him? He's got us wrapped around his little finger, right? ❤️

Prologue * Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10

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It was late March when you had invited Hawks over to cook dinner with you. Well, you were the one standing there, taking care of the cooking process, while he stood next to you, cutting the ingredients for the chicken and potato stew you had planned. It was one of the recipes that your grandma had taught you.

"Do you still feel uncomfortable with the photo shoot tomorrow?" You had realized that Hawks wasn't as bubbly as he usually was. "Mhm," he sighed while cutting the potatoes into cubes, "I don't know why the HPSC thinks this is necessary. I mean, I really like the jewelry those designers came up with and all, but, you know..." You nodded. "Well, I'm sure they are trying to push your popularity. Now that you have entered the top 10, they sure are interested in keeping it that way. It makes sense from a marketing standpoint." Hawks reached out to grab the next potato. "But I'm a hero, not a model," he mused. You laughed as you stirred the contents of the pot in front of you, making sure that onions, garlic, and ginger didn't burn. "I mean, the jewelry is based on your quirk after all, and you sure are an attractive guy. Of course, they would pick you as the model. Could you please hand me the chicken?" You turned your head to look at him, but he didn't react.

"Uhm, Hawks?" He snapped his head around, a light pinkish hue present on his cheeks. "Y-yeah, I... What?" You laughed. "I need the plate with the chicken on it. It's next to you on the counter. Could you hand it over, please?" Hawks nodded and sent a few feathers to carry the meat over to you. "Don't worry," you said and gently laid your hand on his wrist, taking the chicken off his feathers with the other one, "everything will go just fine."

~*~

Eventually, the pictures of Hawks wearing the jewelry were published a few weeks later. There were ads in every newspaper and magazine, hell, even giant billboards had his face on them, already advertising the pre-order period that was about to start in another two weeks all over Japan from here on out.

"The pictures turned out great," you said casually, checking out the ad in one of the magazines while sharing a cup of coffee with Hawks at the agency, admiring the beautiful jewelry as well as the professional way the hero had presented the items. "I really like what the designers did with the necklace. It's cute."

~*~

You had started your day early this morning, arrived ahead of everyone else at the office, and went through the mail, while the heroes, one after another, entered their workplace. You greeted every single one of them with a soft smile on your lips, carrying out your daily routine of checking the mail. A somewhat fancy looking letter that was adressed to Hawks caught your eye. "Boss, you've got mail," you said, holding the letter out for him to grab. He took the letter from you and opened it, while you started to work on your computer.

Soon, Hawks hummed in approval. "What do you think, y/n?", he asked, holding the piece of paper between your face and the screen of the computer. "I think you should stop blocking my vision so I can keep working," you scoffed, hands still lingering mid-air above the keyboard, eying Hawks. "You gotta read that," the blonde waved the paper back and forth in front of your eyes. You snatched the letter out of his hand, reading the lines out loud.

Dear Hawks,

thank you for choosing to trust our company with the creation of your very own line of jewelry. We would like to invite you to join our team of designers for the jewelry launch event to celebrate -

You trailed off thanks to getting distracted by Hawks, who was waving around two VIP tickets next to your head. "What do you say? You and me," he shot you a toothy grin. "Oh no!" You raised one hand in defense, handing him the letter back with the other one before raising this hand as well. "I'm not going to join you on that," you shook your head vehemently. "Oh, come on! It won't be fun if you aren't there," Hawks pleaded, trying to look as disappointed as he could muster, even pushing out his bottomlip. "This is your jewelry line, I don't have any business being at an event like that. Which hero would bring their secretary anyway?"

Hawks laughed as he couldn't keep up his front anymore. "Well, the invitation says it's for 'Hawks plus one'," he mimicked the quotation marks with his fingers, "I can bring whoever I want." You sighed. "I don't even have anything to wear for such an occasion." The hero wasn't ready to give up. "We'll figure something out. Maybe you're free for a shopping trip on the weekend?" Damn it, you were losing. "And how would I even get there?" In response, Hawks spread his wings, flapping them a few times to emphasize what he was about to say. "I can come pick you up and bring you home after the event. It's not like I haven't been at your place before." The sidekicks that were following the exchange between the two of you in the background shared a surprised look, and you were ready to disappear into a hole in the ground out of embarrassment. "Hawks, please, you're making it sound weird. And I still don't - " He had the audacity to interrupt you once again, a cheeky grin on his lips. "I'm your boss, and I pick you to be my plus one, so..." You rolled your eyes at his antics. "Does this count as overtime then?" He gasped, his hand shooting up to his chest to be placed right over his heart in the most dramatic way you had ever seen. "You hurt my feelings, Ms l/n!" Oh yeah, you had definitely lost against Hawks at this point.

"Fine," you groaned, placing your fingers against your temples and rubbing them in a circular motion to mirror his dramatic behavior, "but you are giving me a massive headache." Hawks grinned while making his way over to his office, the letter and tickets still in his hand. "You could always write an email to my agency and complain about me," he shrugged before entering his office, leaving the door standing ajar behind him. "You do realize that it's me who's answering the emails?" All you could hear was laughter coming from his office, successfully ending the playful banter.

~*~

Meeting Hawks at the shopping mall on a Sunday evening was really something you didn't think through well enough beforehand. No matter in which store or boutique you went, there were fans literally everywhere. You had explained for the umpteenth time that, no, you were not dating. You'd tried your best to avoid being in any picture that was taken, leading up to you getting shoved away from him by his fans, who desperately wanted an autograph or touch his wings and, at some point, you simply gave up.

You walked away from the scene and plopped down on a bench in the middle of the mall. Rummaging through your purse, you got your mobile out and texted your boss where to look for you, in case he would find a way to lose his fans. You put your phone away and, more or less out of sheer boredom, started scanning the store windows from a distance. Your eyes widened when something caught your eye. There, in the window of a nice little boutique, was the most stunning dress you'd ever seen. The vibrant red color reminded you of Hawks' wings, the classic form, and the fact that it was neither too flashy nor revealing really met your style. You stood up and walked over to get a closer look, completely missing Hawks calling out your name. You sure were enchanted by the dress in front of you. "Sorry for the delay," he rubbed the back of his head when he had finally caught up to you, still holding his own phone in the other hand. "Nice pick," Hawks said when he took a closer look at the dress in front of you, purposefully not mentioning anything about the color that matched his feathers perfectly. You nodded, gazing down at the price tag. "But it's way too expensive." The blonde next to you laughed. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't pay?" You could feel your heart skip a beat. "Excuse me?!"

In the end, Hawks did pay the outrageous amount of money for the dress like it was no big deal at all.

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Taglist: @claralouvette @chrisrue15

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A huge thanks to everyone who's reading and supporting this story! See you next chapter ❤️👋