#I think the themes of long distance friends and longing to be with the people you care about and physical isolation also kinda got to me

[theresattrpgforthat]

Thanks so much for doing all this, I love what you do for enjoyers of ttrpgs!!

What I'm looking for is epistolary or long-distance, asynchronous games for multiple players. I know you've done lists of 2-player games that people can play in their own time (writing letters or journal entries back and forth, stating your actions in a message then waiting for the other player, etc) but I was wondering if there were any I could play with 3 or more players with different timezones & schedules at once.

Genre and playstyle are flexible, we love trying new mechanics! I've struggled to find games to fit this myself, so I hope you can have a little more luck. You're awesome for taking these requests and finding so many different games for people!

THEME: Asynch & Epistolary for 3 or More.

Hello friend! First of all, I’m going to send you to my Epistolary (Part 3) post because that was specifically for 3 or more players, as well as my first epistolary post because there were a number there that could also be played with a number of people.

But don't worry, there's more!

Angels of the Railway Stations, by Speak the Sky.

There’s only so much you can do alone, but you’re not alone. There’s only so much that can be done with any one meeting, but life is more than one meeting. As you go through the stages of Arrival, Stopover, and Departure, take notes of everything in the form of a letter to be sent on with the train when it leaves the station. These letters should give your fellow angels more context to help the traveller in need along the way. They’re also your only way to communicate with your colleagues and comrades.

Angels of the Railway Stations is an epistolary game for 2+ players in which you play a liminal community of lonely angels. Help lonely travellers in a world undergoing a great upheaval, then write about what you see and do to pass it on to the next angel down the line.

All of the rules for this game can fit on one page, and require you to rely on other players to determine what each of your passengers need and help them get to where they need to go - on time. Angels of the Railway Station references a game called Black Engines, which does not actually exist, which means that many parts of this game will require your play group to fill in the blanks. That being said, I think Angels of the Railway Station has plenty of potential when it comes to telling emotional stories.

Intersecting Orbits, by Ell Schulman.

For as long as there have been Orbiters, there has been the Interference. Spikes in data that have no business being there, garbled words, ghosts in the machinery. Few people believe truly in the existence of the Interference as an entity.The Interference does not care what they believe.

The planet below is alive. There are deep oceans and high mountains and biomes we do not have names for. There are plants and animals that do not conform to systems we know.

There are people who look up at the stars and wonder who else is out there.There is so much to explore. 

Intersecting Orbits is a game for three players, two of whom play Orbiters sending messages back and forth and one of whom plays the Interference who intercepts those messages and removes words from them. 

Using a deck of cards, the two Orbiters will try to communicate to each-other about something that is going on. Meanwhile, the Interference uses 2d6 to determine how many words of the message they can remove. You can probably use this method either by sending letters to each-other, or by writing e-mails or sending texts, so I think this game is definitely flexible in terms of how quickly you want to send messages to each-other, and how long you want the game to run.

Chronicle, by a.fell.

The world is coming to an end. It has been foretold, and so it shall be. We cannot stop it; we only wait, and observe, and recall.

This is a game to create a chronicle of a world, and to find the world again in the last seconds of its life. The game is different depending on which path you choose to take.

You will not play together. You might not play at the same time, or in the same place. You might not even know each other before you play this game.

When you play The Chronicler, you will play alone, across time, across worlds. There is foretelling that an end is coming. You are here to ensure that your life, your people, and your world, survive. The Witnesses will find your artifacts an unknowable amount of time later. They will observe, they will wonder, they will remember their own lives, and they will know you. The world they know is empty, and soon they, too, will be gone. But they will carry these moments with them.

Chronicle uses a tarot deck (or something similar) as an oracle, and requires some form of map for the Chronicler to add to. The Chronicler will draw from this deck to create the events, artifacts and messages from this world. Most of the Chronicler’s work is done by the time the Witnesses come into play, who will travel across the map, pick up artifacts left behind by the Chronicler, and use their own oracle decks to recall personal memories. Eventually, a cataclysm will fall, and the game will end.

Leaving Cambridge, by Nora Katz.

You were together once, a lifetime ago, in a place called Cambridge. It was a place you held dear—a place that you called home, even if just for a moment. But something strange or sinister happened, and now you are all gone, dispersed across countries, continents, and maybe even worlds. There are stories untold and things unsaid. This is your chance to say them. 

“Leaving Cambridge” is an intimate, asynchronous storytelling game that takes place through letters exchanged between a group of people who have parted ways. Over the course of a real-life calendar year, a group of players write letters to each other, piecing together what happened to them, trying to reconcile their checkered pasts with their current realities. As the letters arrive, this group of people will come to understand each other, and themselves, with more clarity—and, most likely, more questions. 

Leaving Cambridge is a setting-agnostic game, so you can set it at any time period and any technology level, as long as it is possible that all of the players at some point went to Cambridge together.. What remains true is that you were once friends, but you have since grown apart. You will draw from a deck of cards, with red cards reflecting memories you share and black cards representing your emotions. Writing will happen over four seasons, with an inciting reason for you to get back in touch with each-other, and generative prompts that encourage your characters to reveal pieces of themselves the longer that they write.

I’d Also Recommend…

When I Lived Here, by a grumpy little critter.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #epistolary games #indie ttrpg

[the-ratronaut]

So I watched this one horror... film? Would you call a feature length twitch vod reupload on youtube a film? Whatever, I think it should count. I watched this horror film last night and it's been sticking with me, giving me feelings and all that. "the gmod stream" it's called. Warning if anyone wants to watch it, the video contains sudden flashing lights and loud noises. Honestly it could probably have done without the loud audio.

It's basically a vod of a stream where three people streaming one by one become corrupted by something. There's some creepypasta to go with it and some creepy glitchy visuals. It's not the most incredible work, I've seen better small indie horror art pieces on twitch and youtube before but I think it's very good. It gave me a specific vibe I enjoy seeing in horror, speficially that feeling of discomfort you get at watching a situation that you know is only going to get worse and the people who could stop it don't know to stop it.

Now it's weird because while watching it I didn't really care much about the paranormal elements (they were still neat but not what I focused on). What grabbed me was the shifting dynamics between the people acting on stream. The way that, when their friends gradually become more off, more out of character or weirdly cruel with no explanation, the others' reactions were, just, very genuine. They empathized with the odd behavior, wrote it off as a bit, played along, tried to ask if everything was going okay, opened up to them more and just genuinely seemed very distressed that they couldn't reach them. They never got angry, frustrated yeah, but never vocally angry.

literally up to the last moment the last "normal" one of the three is still trying to reach out and ask why their friends are acting so cruel towards them. It's distressing and heartbreaking and it just hit me in a really specific way.

So yeah, just felt like I needed to get these feelings down on digital paper. It's a decent watch of you have the hour and a half to spare. Just know going in that a lot of it is watching and listening to a mundane stream... also, the aforementioned warning about loud noises and flashing lights. I legit had to turn down my headset a couple times.

The video:

#Art critique I guess? #I think the themes of long distance friends and longing to be with the people you care about and physical isolation also kinda got to me #Most of my friends are purely online so I definitely felt that #The gmod stream

[pearlcigs]

⋆ make a woman out of me

christian!virgin!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ you swore to yourself you only longed for ellie in a platonic way, but as you get older you seem to realize just how pretty she really is.

warnings ⋆ 2.95k ⋆ smut, i might get cancelled 🤷‍♀️, reader (non penetrative) virginity loss, religious themes, ellie is 19, reader is 18, pastor's daughter!reader, mentions of homophobia, alludes to reader's parents being homophobic, ellie smokes weed, pet names (pretty girl, babe, honey, baby, good girl), cursing, first kiss, corruption, corruption kink, oral (r recieving)

time moved slowly within the parameters of jackson. the same familiar faces, day in and day out. though, it was comforting living in such a community. the horrors of the world beyond the walls that stood tall was something you rarely wanted to think about. it made you sick to your stomach to think of your friends, loved ones, even people you weren't particularly close with, outside of the safe walls, being face to face with whatever monsters marred the unhabitual world.

your parents were strict with religion, your father being the only self acclaimed paster that jackson has ever had to offer. there was never a time you could remember, even before finding refuge in the cozy town, where your parents weren't devout. vivid memories of your mother's fingers gliding over the cross necklace she wore around her neck when you would get in trouble. disappointed sighs and signs of the cross, begging the lord above for forgiveness, explaining to the sky you were too young to know what you've done was a sin.

the bible was followed closely in your home, and you obliged without caution. you prayed, attended your father's mass sessions in the tiny chapel just down the road where he preached the bible, wore the holy cross around your neck to show your devotion, you've read the old torn and withered bible you were so lucky to find front to back. religion was all you've ever known and you had found no reason to ever question the man who hung on your wooden walls, hanging from a cross with his hands and feed nailed to it like an animal. that was, until ellie.

"come on, don't you wanna jus' see what it feels like?" ellie teased, waving the joint in front of your face like a taunt. "no thank you." you replied, sitting at the foot of her bed, legs crossed, eyes wandering around her room. when ellie first came to jackson you were infatuated with her, dwindling it down to pure want but only of friendship. "good girl, that's what you say when someone offers you this shit." ellie moves the weed away from your face, inhaling it and then turning away to exhale the smoke away from you.

it started with just friendly smiles, offering to show her around and help her get to know everyone. she was wary of you. honestly, afraid of your friendly demeanor. people on the outside of the jackson walls were cruel and vicious, she thought, with no doubt in her mind, you were being friendly to lure her into some kind of trap. she danced around you with caution, keeping her distance but also decidingly giving you a chance. she quickly became fond of you, your personality, your looks. everything about you appealed to ellie and something about that made you proud, even more eager to befriend her.

the words 'good girl' ring from her mouth and you're not sure how to respond. was there even a proper response to your best friend calling you that? a simple nod was all you could come up with. watching her lips intently as she blew the smoke out of her lungs. your fingers came up to your neck, fiddling with the cross necklace around your neck, a habit passed down from your mother. ellie never paid much attention to your shy outlook on life. you were reserved and a part of her liked that she had so much of you to herself.

it wasn't until you were 17 that you finally came to terms with the fact that your infatuation was more than just a yearning to be her friend. tears of guilt streaming down your face in the confessional at the shoddy chapel, divider between you and the young volunteer who was ready to beg jesus to abolish your sins. "i'm a girl... and i like another girl." you sniffled, lowering the pitch of your voice instinctively so he wouldn't see past your anonymity. ache in your heart when silence was returned, until soft mutterings of a prayer, asking jesus to forgive your tainted heart.

ellie extended her arms behind her head, a small stretch that gave you big feelings. her shirt rode up, exposing the small of her stomach. you swallowed harshly, wondering why god would tempt you with something like this. a soft sigh emits from ellie's lips, flicking the almost finished joint into a nearby makeshift ashtray. another soft sigh falling from her perfect lips. intent eyes trying to be secretive of the no less then unholy thoughts that you were being tempted with.

ellie was put off at first by your fervent religion. her experiences were tainted, never having a good visual of what a healthy relationship with god looked like. she was unsure if you were going to try and convert her into some pious worshipper. you weren't secretive of your religion and that much was enough to make ellie suspicious. with time she realized you were different from the other religious people she's met. only bringing up your religion or anything to do with it when you were directly asked or if it was really important to speak about.

"whatchu lookin' at, pretty girl?" she chuckled as she noticed the way your eyes locked onto her, like if you looked away she'd be gone. it wasn't unusual for ellie to be flirty or to make casual remarks about how pretty you were. still, every time she did your cheeks were adorned in a rosy color. "just you, i guess. i dunno..." you answered back quickly, hoping that answer was enough to satisfy her eager curiosity. "yeah? just me? got something you wanna say to me?" she was just joking around, trying to get you riled up and flustered but you did have things you wanted to say to her.

"no." you answered, though you were sure she wasn't expecting an actual response. "no? yikes, babe, i'm hurt, thought we had somethin' real here." she smiled and you felt the butterflies in your stomach become tongue tied. one thing you loved about ellie above all things was her smile, how the skin around her eyes scrunched up just the tiniest bit, the apples of her cheeks becoming more prominent. everything about her smile made your head spin.

"els, i like you." the words slip out of your mouth before you could even process what was going on. her smile that coerced you to confess to her in the first place falters. "i'm sorry?" she questions, unsure if you meant what she thought you did. you had never said anything that led ellie to believe you were homophobic or that you thought all gay people were sinners like most of the older people who were religious in jackson did. but still she was careful to keep her sexuality from you, strongly assured you would take after your parents' stance on homosexuality.

"i... i don't know why i said that." you say, truthfully. mouth slightly agape and eyes widened with shock that you'd just outed yourself after years of trying to force down your feelings. there was a silence between the two of you. silence wasn't uncommon around each other, sometimes the both of you preferring to spend your time together quietly as a way to unwind after a treacherous day. but this silence was different than those times. ellies breath was caught in her throat, words jumbled on her tongue.

she only began reacting when she saw the panic on your face, followed by your eyes becoming glassy. "hey, hey. don't cry. it's okay." she comforted, sitting up and placing a hand on your knee. she wasn't good at comforting people, you were well aware of that. "i didn't mean to.." you admitted, voice timid and quiet, still uncertain to how she would react. "hey, it's okay, honey." the term of endearment sliding off her tongue like she was meant to call you that for the rest of your lives.

"i'm not mad." ellie affirms, her tone soft, knowing how afraid of other people's anger you are. another flash of silence emerges, just you and ellie staring at each other. neither of you knowing what to say. she pitied you, seeing how much you resented yourself. your bottom lip slotted between your teeth, biting hard enough to potentially draw blood. "don't do that..." she mutters, gently running her thumb over your partially chapped lips, pulling your bottom lip out of your teeth's grasp.

your breath hitches, a small shudder traveling up your spine. your eyes locked on hers, your heart beating loud enough for the whole world to hear. ellie's eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "i've liked you for a while." you admit, knowing there was no going back at this point. "oh, yeah?" her voice was low, some would even describe as seductive. her thumb still lingering on your bottom lip. "yeah." you whisper back, your eyes now flickering down to her lips.

ellie's hand moves to your jaw. her eyes flicking down to your lips one last time before she leans down and presses her lips against yours. her lips are soft, just like you had imagined. she seems skilled, like she knew what she was doing and what the end goal was. a small smile forming on her face as she realizes you have no idea what you're doing. “like this.” she mumbles against your lips acutely aware how clueless you were when it came to romance.

you follow her lead, doing your best to follow her lead. her free hand finding your waist, squeezing gently. you pull away, panting faintly. "i don't know.." you mumble, trailing off as ellie puts her lips back to yours. the hand that was on your jaw roaming to the back of your head, fingers getting tangled in your hair. "i know." ellie responds moments later, her lips brushing against your with each syllable. you couldn't comprehend what was happening, your mind going blank with ellie's lips on yours. she adored the way you looked at her. looking at her like you needed her.

she gently lays you back, grabbing the first pillow she could find and settling it under your head so you were comfortable. her thighs either side of your body, her body weight on top of you, giving you a cozy feeling you'd never experienced before. "you don't even know how long i've been wantin' to kiss your pretty lips..." she whispers, her bangs hanging in front of her face. you bring your hand up to her face, nervously tucking the hair behind her ear. "god, you're so fuckin'..." she stops, just taking a second to admire how alluring you looked under her.

her lips dip down to your neck, slowly biting and sucking on the skin. your breath hitches, a small whine pushing past your swollen lips. ellie groans against the skin of your neck. "make more of those pretty noises f'r me." she mumbles, hips rolling over yours, another whine spilling from you at the pleasurable feeling. ellie's kisses move away from your neck, down your body. trailing down your collarbone to your clothed chest to your stomach. her lips stop, hovering right above your pussy.

your heart was beating out of your chest, you back arching a little in anticipation. "how bad do you wan' it? tell me, baby. tell me how much you wan' me." she was totally and utterly obsessed with you, her mind becoming drunk by the thought of you— the mere sight of you. "p-please, els..." you mumbled, voice timid from embarrassment. it was partially expected though, you'd never done anything like this. "i want you..." it was simple but effective, making ellie go feral for you. "fuck—"

she lowers her lips to your pussy, kissing over the fabric of your shorts. watching her through hooded eyes, your pussy throbbing from her touch. "gonna eat this pussy s'good. show you what you've been missin' out on." she groans, the fabric of your shorts dampening as she trails her tongue over the sensitive area. ellie surprised herself, shocked that she was able to dirty talk to you so easily like this. your hips were writhing against the bed, more eager than you've ever been in your entire life. you felt dirty for wanting this, knowing that god was watching you become a total slut for ellie.

ellie's fingers hooked on your shorts, pulling them down slow as slow could be, chuckling as you whined. "ellie. ellie, please." you muttered, begging for her to hurry up. ellie's eyes rolled back, the sound of you begging getting her more aroused than she's ever been. no one's ever made her feel like this before. she was done with the teasing, if not for your sake but for hers. she pulled your shorts and underwear off swiftly, discarding them somewhere to find later.

her eyes locked on your bare pussy, fighting back a moan at the sight. "you've got me so fucked up, babe." she muttered, kissing around your thighs first. you were nervous, breath shallow and quick paced, hungry for ellie but embarrassed nevertheless. your voice was caught in your throat, blinking quickly as you watched ellie kiss all over your thighs. ellie looked up at you and you were able to see that she was just as nervous as you. "is this okay? you can tell me to stop." she sounded sincere, pushing aside her pure need to get your consent.

you nodded, not trusting your voice. "use your words like the good girl you are, yeah?" she's longing to just taste your glistening cunt. "yes— yes, els. 't's okay..." she doesn't waste another second after hearing your shaky voice, tongue urgently dipping between your wet folds. you moan at the contact, feeling like you were on cloud 9. ellie's tongue presses flat against your clit, your hand clamping over your mouth. moans being muffled as ellie savors the sweet noises your dripping cunt was making.

ellie wasn't fond of you muffling your perfect little sounds, wanting to hear just how good she could make you feel. "let me hear you. don't make me punish you.." you don't move your hand away from your sinful mouth. your free hand finds ellie's, interlocking your fingers which she gladly accepts. "c'mon, baby. let me hear you." she encourages once more, lips moving against you with ease, mixture of your wetness and her spit. but to her dismay, you still ignored her commands. her free hand sliding your shirt up your body to expose your breasts, you were never one to wear a bra. her hand kneading the supple flesh, thumb running over your nipple.

she licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, making your thighs shake with immense pleasure. "wanna be a brat?" she mumbles into your pussy, looking up at you through her eyelashes, staring you down as her tongue circles your clit. "what is it they make you do in confession? hail mary's? 5 of 'em, now. or i stop." she smirks, watching the look in your eye become more flustered by her request. you slowly move your hand away from your mouth, not wanting this pleasure to ever stop.

"h-hail mary, full of grace—" you cut yourself off with a moan, eyes squeezing shut as you lift your hips, pushing your cunt further into ellie's face. "get to ruin this pretty pussy." ellie groans. "keep goin'. don't stop." she aids you to continue, feeling your cunt flutter around her tongue. "the lord is with— is with thee..." you continue, stuttering through the words. "good girl, keep goin' f'r me. let me hear you." she continues to egg you on, talking into your pussy. her own moans mixing in with the sound of yours.

"blessed art thou— ellie, please..." you whine, squeezing her hand and throwing your head back into the pillow, back arching off the bed. "c'mon, pretty girl. blessed art thou..." you toes curl at her words and the feeling of her tongue teasing your entrance. "—amongst... amongst women..." you trail off, mind becoming to hazy to even remember the words to the prayer you've prayed everyday since you could talk. ellie smirked into your cunt, relishing in the feeling of being able to turn your mind into mush, being the only one able to turn your mind into mush.

your moans and whines became breathier and higher pitched with each flick of her tongue. your stomach twisting in an unfamiliar knot. "ah, ah, ellie—" your thighs trying to clench together and push her head away, the feeling becoming too much. "you're gonna cum, baby?" she spreads your legs wider, her only greedy want is to make pleasure wash over you. "ellie! ellie! ellie!" you chant her name, eyes rolling back as the pleasurable wave of your orgasm finally hits you, moans loud and unfiltered.

"there we go... yeah, nice an' easy. fuck." she mutters, tongue fucking you through your high until your writhing and pushing her off of you. her lips relocating to your thighs and slowly working their way up to your pelvic bone, soft kisses against your skin. "tasted so good, baby. best pussy i've ever had." she praises, eager to show you just how much you pleasured her even though you technically didn't make her cum. "els..." you whined, face flushed a rosy red. "yeah, baby. 'm right here." she leaves a trail of kisses up your body as she reaches your lips, leaving a soft peck to let you know she was here. "does this mean you like me too...?" you asked innocently. "are you serious?"

#🍄 ⋆ the last of us #🕰️ ⋆ birds and bees #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou smut #ellie wiliams #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #ellie x reader smut

[artsekey]

Disney's Wish

Look, Disney's Wish has been universally panned across the internet, and for good reason.

It’s just…kind of okay.

 When we sit down to watch a Disney film—you know, from the company that dominated the animation industry from 1989 to (arguably) the mid 2010’s and defined the medium of animation for decades—we expect something magnificent. Now, I could sit here and tell you everything that I thought was wrong with Wish, but if you’re reading this review, then I imagine that you’ve already heard the most popular gripes from other users across the web. So, let me focus in:

The biggest problem with Wish—in fact, the only problem with Wish—is Magnifico.

Whoa, that’s crazy! There’re so many things about Wish that could’ve been better! The original concept was stronger! The music was bad--

I hear you, I do. But stay with me here, okay? Take my hand. I studied under artists from the Disney renaissance. I teach an adapted model of Disney’s story pipeline at a University level. I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting degrees in this, and I am about to dissect this character and the narrative to a stupid degree.

First, we need to understand that a good story doesn’t start and end with what we see on the screen. Characters aren’t just fictional people; when used well, characters are tools the author uses (or in this case, the director) to convey their message to the audience. Each character’s struggle should in some way engage with the story’s message, and consequently, the story’s theme. Similarly, when we look at our protagonist and our antagonist, we should see their characters and their journeys reflected in one-another.

So, what went wrong between Asha & Magnifico in terms of narrative structure?

Act I

In Wish, we’re introduced to our hero not long into the runtime—Asha. She’s ambitious, caring, and community-oriented; in fact, Asha is truly introduced to the audience through her love of Rosas (in “Welcome to Rosas”).  She’s surrounded by a colorful cast of friends who act as servants in the palace, furthering her connection with the idea of community but also telling us that she’s not of status, and then she makes her way to meet Magnifico for her chance to become his next apprentice.

Quick aside: I'm not going to harp on Asha as a character in the context of Disney's overall canon. Almost every review I've seen covers her as a new addition to Disney's ever-growing repertoire of "Cute Quirky Heroines", and I think to be fair to Asha as an actor in the narrative, it serves her best to be weighed within the context of the story she's part of.

As Asha heads upstairs for her interview, we're introduced to the man of the hour: Magnifico. He lives in a tower high above the population of Rosas, immediately showing us how he differs from Asha; he’s disconnected from his community. He lives above them. He has status. While the broader context of the narrative wants us to believe that this also represents a sense of superiority, I would argue that isn’t what Magnifico’s introduction conveys; he's isolated.

Despite this distance, he does connect with Asha in “At All Costs”. For a moment, their goals and values align. In fact, they align so well that Magnifico sees Asha as someone who cares as much about Rosas as he does, and almost offers her the position.

… Until she asks him to grant Saba’s wish.

This is framed by the narrative as a misstep. The resonance between their ideals snaps immediately, and Magnifico says something along the line of “Wow. Most people wait at least a year before asking for something.”

This disappointment isn't played as coming from a place of power or superiority. He was excited by the idea of working with someone who had the same values as he did, who viewed Rosas in the same way he does, and then learns that Asha’s motivations at least partially stem from a place of personal gain.

Well, wait, is that really Asha's goal?

While it's not wholistically her goal, it's very explicitly stated & implied that getting Saba's wish granted is at least a part of it. The audience learns (through Asha's conversation with her friends before the interview) that every apprentice Magnifico has ever had gets not only their wish granted, but the wishes of their family, too!  Asha doesn’t deny that this is a perk that she’s interested in, and I don't think this is a bad thing.

So, Is Asha’s commitment to Saba selfless, or selfish? I’m sure the director wanted it to seem selfless, wherein she believes her family member has waited long enough and deserves his wish granted, but we can’t ignore the broader context of Asha essentially trying to… skip the line.

Then, we get our first point of tension. Magnifico reveals his “true colors” in snapping at Asha, telling her that he “decides what people deserve”. This is supposed to be the great motivator, it’s meant to incite anger in the audience—after all, no one gets to decide what you deserve, right? But unfortunately for the integrity of the film and the audience's suspension of disbelief, at least part of Magnifico’s argument is a little too sound to ignore:

Some wishes are too vague and dangerous to grant. Now, there’s visual irony here; he says this after looking at a 100 old man playing the lute. The idea that something so innocuous could be dangerous is absurd, and the audience is meant to agree.

... But we’ve also seen plenty of other wishes that might be chaotic—flying on a rocket to space, anyone? The use of the word vague is important, too—this implies wording matters, and that a wish can be misinterpreted or evolve into something that is dangerous even if the original intent was innocuous. His reasoning for people forgetting their wish (protecting them from the sadness of being unable to attain their dreams) is much weaker, but still justifiable (in the way an antagonist’s flawed views can be justified). The film even introduces a facet of Magnifico’s backstory that implies he has personal experience with the grief of losing a dream (in the destruction of his home), but that thread is never touched on again.

              What is the audience supposed to take from this encounter? If we’re looking at the director’s intent, I’d argue that we’ve been introduced to a well-meaning young girl and a king who’s locked away everyone’s greatest aspiration because he believes he deserves to have the power to decide who gets to be happy.

              But what are we shown? Our heroine, backed by her friends, strives to be Magnifico’s apprentice because she loves the city but also would really like to see her family's wishes granted. When this request is denied and she loses the opportunity to be his apprentice, she deems Magnifico’s judgement unfair & thus begins her journey to free the dreams of Rosas’ people.

              In fairness, Magnifico doesn’t exhibit sound judgement or kindness through this act of the film. He’s shown to be fickle, and once his composure cracks, he can be vindictive and sharp. He's not a good guy, but I'd argue he's not outright evil. He's just got the makings of a good villain, and those spikes of volatility do give us a foundation to work off of as he spirals, but as we’ll discuss in a bit, the foreshadowing established here isn’t used to the ends it implies.

              While I was watching this film, I was sure Magnifico was going to be a redeemable villain. He can’t connect with people because he's sure they value what he provides more than they value him (as seen in “At All Costs” and the aftermath), and Asha’s asking for more was going to be framed as a mistake. His flaw was keeping his people too safe and never giving them the chance to sink or swim, and he's too far removed from his citizens to see that he is appreciated. Asha does identify this, and the culmination of her journey is giving people the right to choose their path, but the way Magnifico becomes the “true” villain and his motivations for doing so are strangely divorced from what we’re shown in Act I.  

Act II:

His song, “This is the Thanks I Get!?” furthers the idea that Magnifico’s ire—and tipping point—is the fact that he thinks the people he’s built a kingdom for still want more. Over the course of this 3:14 song, we suddenly learn that Magnifico sends other people to help his community and doesn’t personally get involved (we never see this outside of this song), and that he’s incredibly vain/narcissistic (he's definitely a narcissist). I think feeling under-appreciated is actually a very strong motivation for Magnifico as a character-turning-villain, and it works very well. It’s justified based on what we’ve seen on screen so far: he feels under-appreciated (even though he’s decidedly not—the town adores him), he snaps and acts irrationally under stress (as seen with his outburst with Asha), and he’s frustrated that people seem to want more from him (again, as seen with his conversation with Asha in Act I).

              But then… he opens the book.

Ah, the book. As an object on screen, we know that it's filled with ancient and evil magic, well-known to be cursed by every relevant character in the film, and kept well-secured under lock and key. But what does it stand for in the context of the narrative's structure? A quick path to power? We're never told that it has any redeeming qualities; Magnifico himself doesn't seem to know what he's looking for when he opens it. It feels... convenient.

I think it's also worth noting that he only turns to the book when he's alone; once again, the idea of connection and community rears it's ugly head! Earlier in the film, Amaya-- his wife-- is present and turns him away from taking that path. In her absence, he makes the wrong choice.

This decision could make sense; it contains powerful magic, and if it were framed in such a way that the people of Rosas were losing faith in Magnifico’s magic, as if what he can do might not be enough anymore after what they felt from Star, going for the book that we know contains spells that go above and beyond what he can already do would be logical. Along the lines of, “If they’re not happy with what I do for them, fine. I, ever the “martyr”, will do the unthinkable for you, because you want more.”

            It would keeps with the idea that Magnifico believes he's still trying to help people, but his motivation has taken his self-imposed pity party and turned it into resentment and spite.

 But, that’s not the case. Instead he talks about reversing that “light”, which has had no real negative or tangible consequences on Rosas. Everyone had a warm feeling for a few seconds. Again, it’s meant to paint him as a vain control freak, but… he hasn’t lost any power. The citizens of Rosas even assume the great showing of magic was Magnifico.

Act III

              Then, we get to the consequences of opening the book (and perhaps my biggest qualm with this film). The book is established as being cursed. Magnifico knows it, Asha knows it, and Amaya—who is introduced as loyal-- knows it. The characters understand his behavior is a direct result of the book, and search for a way to save him. This is only the focus of the film for a few seconds, but if you think about it, the fact that his own wife cannot find a way to free him of the curse he’s been put under is unbelievably tragic. Worse still, upon discovering there is no way to reverse the curse, Magnifico—the king who built the city & “protected it” in his own flawed way for what seems to be centuries—is thrown out by his wife. You know, the wife who's stood loyal at his side for years?

              It’s played for laughs, but there’s something unsettling about a character who’s clearly and explicitly under the influence of a malevolent entity being left… unsaved. If you follow the idea of Magnifico being disconnected from community being a driving force behind his arc, the end of the film sees him in a worse situation he was in at the start: truly, fully alone.

              They bring in so many opportunities for Magnifico to be sympathetic and act as a foil for Asha; he’s jaded, she’s not. He’s overly cautious (even paranoid), she’s a risk-taker. He turns to power/magic at his lowest point, Asha turns to her friends at her lowest point. Because this dichotomy isn’t present, and Magnifico—who should be redeemable—isn’t, the film is so much weaker than it could’ve been. The lack of a strong core dynamic between the protagonist and antagonist echoes through every facet of the film from the music to the characterization to the pacing, and I believe if Magnifico had been more consistent, the film would’ve greatly improved across the board.

I mean, come on! Imagine if at the end of the film, Asha—who, if you remember, did resonate with Magnifico’s values at the start of the film—recognizes that he's twisted his original ideals and urges him to see the value in the people he’s helped, in their ingenuity, in their gratitude, & that what he was able to do before was enough. Going further, asking what his wish is or was—likely something he’s never been asked— and showing empathy! We’d come full circle to the start of the film where Asha asks him to grant her wish.

Pushing that further, if Magnifico’s wish is to see Rosas flourish or to be a good/beloved king, he'd have the the opportunity to see the value in failing and how pursuing the dream is its own complex and valuable journey, and how not even he is perfect.

 The curse and the book (which, for the purposes of this adjustment, would need to be established as representing the idea of stepping on others to further your own goals/the fast way to success), then serve as the final antagonist, that same curse taking root in the people of Rosas who’ve had their dreams destroyed, and Asha works with the community to quell it. Asha’s learned her lesson, so has Magnifico, and the true source of evil in the film—the book—is handled independently. Magnifico steps back from his role as King, Amaya still ends up as Queen, and Asha takes her place as the new wish-granter.

This route could even give us the true “Disney villain” everyone’s craving; giving the book sentience and having it lure Magnifico in during “This is the Thanks I Get!?” leaves it as its own chaotic evil entity.

All in all, Magnifico's introduction paved a road to redemption that the rest of the film aggressively refused to deliver on, instead doubling down on weaker motivations that seem to appear out of thin air. Once the audience thinks, hey, that bad guy might have a point, the protagonist has to do a little more heavy lifting to convince us they're wrong.

Look at the big-bad-greats from Disney's library. There isn't a point in the Lion King where we pause and think, "Wait a second, maybe Scar should be the guy who rules the Pridelands." Ursula from the Little Mermaid, though motivated by her banishment from King Triton's Seas, never seems to be the right gal for the throne. Maybe Maleficent doesn't get invited to the princess's birthday party, but we don't watch her curse a baby and think, Yeah, go curse that baby, that's a reasonable response to getting left out.

What do they all have in common? Their motivation is simple, their goal is clear, and they don't care who they hurt in pursuit of what they want.

Magnifico simply doesn't fall into that category. He's motivated by the idea of losing power, which is never a clear or impactful threat. His goal at the start seems to be to protect Rosas, then it turns into protecting his own power, and then-- once he's corrupted-- he wants to capture Star. The problem is, there's no objective to put this power toward. Power for power's sake is useless. Scar craves power because he feels robbed of status. Ursula believes the throne is rightfully hers. Maleficent wanted to make a statement. Magnifico... well, I'm not really sure.

#wish #disney #review #magnifico

[baddiewiththebook]

ONE OF THE BOYS [PART 2]

-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]

-> a/n I tried to tag everyone I saw, but some of y'all weren't linking. Also, there is a part three because part two became so long. Whoops!

[Part 1] Part 2 [Part 3]

-> <-

“You're eventually going to have to talk to them,” Robin shimmies her backpack into the empty chair next to her rather than being strewn across the lunchroom table. “As far as they know, you changed your hair and your clothes and now you hate them.”

You place your lunch tray onto the open space, then sit across from her.

Distancing from your friends was cruel, and you knew that. Robin is also right. Still, you wake an hour early to get to school ahead of them. Taking windy pathways past the gymnasium that stunk of socks to avoid Eddie on his way to his classroom that is two doors away from yours. You carry all of your heaviest books now because Gareth’s locker is across from yours. You do regret leaving that sandwich in your locker though. Gross.

With a routine schedule, two months have flown by without a hitch in the plan. Robin likes sitting with you at lunch, but she does wish you chose to sit here rather than watching you screw away at a tight bond with the boys over at the other table.

Things were desperate by the first week when you shoved toilet paper up your nose in order to fib to Eddie that you were too sick to go anywhere. You missed two days of class just so you could keep away from him.

Then, there was the band performances. You never missed a single night that Corroded Coffin played music at the scrappy biker bar at the outskirts of town. The boys had stopped inviting you after “missing two,” but you snuck into the shadows in the back of the bar. No one really bothered you there. Stage lights distracted the performers enough to where they could only see the front row of drunks.

All of the practice in Gareth’s garage paid off. Corroded Coffin was good - no, excellent. You were so proud of the boys.

You wish you could tell them.

And, so, maybe Robin is right. All of this running around is silly and reckless. You miss all of your friends dearly. Even Eddie, who still you find absolutely and undoubtedly the most complicated soul you ever met in your entire life. Your friendship is more to you than desperately clinging to his ankle like a shaken chihuahua in heat.

Maybe there is a part of you that still wishes he’d see. All the effort you put into your hair, your skin and your nails isn’t just about proving that you aren’t just one of the guys. You knew this from the very beginning. Still, even after your conversation with Gareth that one night, you still play out this plot a little longer.

You like the shiny bling and the tighter clothes that get you a bit more attention. But, you didn’t have to change yourself completely - right?

“Isn’t it time for me to mingle with people who have similar interests as me?” You say finally out of your head. Snagging one of Robin’s fries, you drop down in the seat across from her.

“You've proven you can be a chick with or without that frizzy haired freak. Don't act like you don't like the same stuff they do,” she flicks your jacket, which has hours of patchwork done. You had sewn on patches of your favorite bands. Most of the bands, you had learned from Eddie, himself.

Hours of listening to music together in his trailer, while sharing a blunt. Eddie would get a wind of energy and then he’d leap onto his bed for a solo performance. Fingers stroking a guitar that never existed. You laugh as he tumbles over his mattress, and he tells you that’s when the crowd will carry him - to victory!

You warm at the memory.

Eddie is the only person at his lunch table. Kicking his foot up onto an empty chair, he lounges and he waits for his friends. He’s always the first to get there because his class is so close to the cafeteria. It takes Gareth and Jeff a longer time because they come from the gym. And, the freshman come from the opposite side of the school, so they take the longest to get to the cafeteria.

“Go on,” Robin nudges you. “I’ll see you in math later.”

By the time Robin kicks you thrice in the shin, you get over your worries. You want to patch your friendships up with the boys, but you’re not sure what to tell them. Explaining the truth felt horrific. That you like - er - liked Eddie. Gareth’s confession in the kitchen.

Yeah, the truth seems far fetched.

Your second option is to beg for them to quit calling you ‘one of the guys,’ but that too came off risky. You've never had a problem with their comments before, or their disgusting antics and habits. Once you smell a Jeff fart, then all of the other farts seem forgiving. Seriously, no one should ever give him cheese again. Yet, they do.

Anyway, talking to Eddie first feels less daunting then to come up to all of them at once. But, with your stalling, your wish comes to late. The boys rush the table, hollering and whooping like unkept animals.

You stop in your tracks fully when you see two women beeline for the table. They never invite people to their table. Or at least, they never invite just anyone.

Roxie is easy to recognize. Candy coated red lips meet that of Eddie’s pale cheek that blushes a deep crimson at the affection. Eddie hangs his head, so he can smack a wet kiss to her lips. She uses a free hand to swipe the spare lipstick from his mouth.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie cooed.

Roxie touches his hair in a way that makes his eyes droop low, and he rests his head on her chest. All while he keeps his conversation with Jeff going.

Meanwhile, the other woman is her opposite.

Brunette hair cascades down her back, and tangles amongst her woven sweatshirt. Arms wide open with her slender fingers covered by the net sweater she hid under. She sneaks up on Gareth, and hangs over his neck. Gareth cranes his neck, and whispers in her ear making her laugh sweetly. He touches her wrist with gentle fingers and he pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with his free hand, before they have a chance to slip further down her face.

“Indie!” Dustin shouts.

The girl hanging from Gareth picks her head up, and grins with a shining sparkle in her eye at the young freshman. She reaches over to ruffle his hair.

You panic.

Slamming into someone’s shoulder, you apologize and you retreat like a mouse being stepped on. Time slows down. You move around people as fast as your feet will carry you.

You can hear your breath in your ears meeting up with your heart banging against your ribcage.

Robin calls to you, but you can’t hear her. Blood rushes through you, and you swear your can feel the swimming and the tingling. Your fingertips tingle when you push open the door into the hallway.

Technically speaking, you couldn’t be out here if you're on our lunch period. A few classes still go on, but mostly the teachers didn’t want anyone to catch them smoking in their classrooms where they shouldn’t be. It’s not like the smell lingers.

Somewhere down the hallway, a classroom is having a heated debate. Voices bounce from wall to wall. Echoing into your eardrums. All. Too. Much. You aim for the big showy doors at the front of the building.

Cool damp air hits your cheeks. Trees stand tall. Birds hold meetings on their branches. They sing soft melodies. Outside smells earthy.

Immersing yourself in the sourness of the damp remains of rainfall, you slow your jagged breathing. Your heart beat regulates.

Keys trembling in your fist, you find your car parked not too far away in the parking lot. Some asshole has blocked your passenger side in, so even if you wanted too you wouldn't be able to get in that way.

Kicking yourself for taking the cowards way out, you catch a tearful glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Mascara slips down your cheeks. Your drowning in two inches of water.

Eddie's bandana sits in your glove compartment. It still remains his with the lingering tang of old cigarettes and sweat. You told him if he left that nasty thing in here that you'd wash the stink out.

You haven't.

Clinging to a tissue, you use that to pat your face dry. Dabbing at your eyes, you don't want to disturb your makeup. Funny how a few months ago, you would be scrubbing your cheeks raw to get anything off of your face.

The tapping on your window startles you because you think a teacher has seen you. However, you find only Robin with a pitiful expression on her face. She waves for you to roll down your window, then holds out your backpack and your jacket that you’ve left behind in your scurry to get out of school.

“You left your things,” she looks at your puffy eyes and your worn out makeup. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you reach out for your things, only to put them in the passenger seat next to you, “I think I’ll go home.”

“Indie is a really nice girl-,”

“I’m not worried about Indie.”

Robin winces at the sharpness of your tone slicing through the air like butter. You apologize to her.

“I’m going to go home, Robin.”

“Roxie and Eddie are only going to last for a day - I guarantee,” her shoulders bobble. “It’s Roxie.”

“Yeah,” you say thinly.

Robin taps your car. “Get home safe.”

“Will do,” you say. “Thank you.”

-> <-

When you arrived at school the next day, you're in class for less than fifteen minutes before your name blasts on the intercom to report to the main office. Robin salutes you from her seat in the back of home room like you’re taking a final walk, before they take you around the back and shoot you between the eyes. Well done, soldier.

Although not as dramatic, you were served a detention slip for after school. You suspected as such, since you left halfway through school without an explanation. Next time you'll go to the nurse, and heat up the thermometer with your tongue. Give her a cough, or a sneeze and she would send you home.

You tap your fresh manicure across the etchings in the desk. Profanities. Markings of once was, and forever will be.

Low rumbles cause for distraction. You pick a desk next to a window where you see the gray clouds clustering in close. They spit at the ground. Droplets of water slip across the glass. You guess which droplet will get to the bottom first, and silently cheer the winner.

Your eye drifts to the front of the class where your chest rises and falls at the next person to walk through the door. All those months of hiding your head felt worthless when Eddie shows up.

For a moment, you think, he’s looking right at you. You swallow, but you try waving. Eddie does ignore you and plops himself into a chair at the front of the classroom. His backpack drops with a thunk.

Tipping your attention back to the window, the rain comes down harder in flashes of wet thunder and lightening. Dark and stormy weather is your favorite. Because, after the rain stops, you like splashing in every puddle until you can’t see the color of your boots anymore.

You can’t do that in your new sneakers. Not a speck of dust on them. Barely out of the box.

“Everyone in their seats,” a man in a blazer walking with an arch to his spine tells us. He hovers at the front of the classroom with both hands on his desk, while peering just above his square framed lenses. Wild gray hairs stick out on end near his ears. You wonder if he’s done this on purpose to accentuate that despite he’s bald on top of his head, he still in fact has hair. “I’m Mr. Clark, and this will be an hour long detention session.”

You came prepared with notebooks and homework to do for the next hour.

“I’ll be taking attendance, and then you may quietly do your homework or read . . . for all I care, bang your head against the desk just be quiet,” he aims the metaphorical bullet at Eddie and misses, and hits the wall just over the top of his head.

Eddie clicks his teeth. “You got it teach.”

“Mr. Munson,” Mr. Clark groans. “Will I ever get tired of seeing your face?”

Eddie grins famously. “Oh, you know you’ll never get tired of me, Dick.”

“It’s Richard,” he clears his throat, then straightens his tie, “Mr. Clark to you.”

You miss the banter. The smart mouth Eddie that has you drooling. Oh, God, please resist getting sucked in again.

The notebook in front of you has pages of blank white paper. You focus on filling in the lines with your math equations.

“Solve for E,” you tell yourself in a hushed whisper. “What ever happened to X?”

So, you solve for E.

You raise your hand when your name is called for the attendance. Pretending that Eddie didn’t whip around at your name, instead you solve for E. You solve for E because E is the equivalent of- E is the equivalent of-

Eddie can’t help, but watch your eyebrows get closer and closer to your nose. You get frazzled easily when you know you’re close to an answer that’s on the tip of your tongue.

You’re breaking now. Keeping your head down, as Eddie burns holes into the top of your head. E isn’t an equivalent of anything. E is the most complex and confusing letter of the alphabet. You swore up and down that you would avoid E. E’s in front of you. There’s no way to escape E for an entire hour. Even when you think you've solved E, you still have to see E living in a trailer across from you. E’s lights still on. Eating. Watching TV. Changing. Sleeping. Dreaming.

Crap, you are not thinking about the fifth letter in the alphabet. And, you are certainly not thinking about math.

You throw down your pencil in frustration.

Eddie waits for Mr. Clark to finish his attendance taking. In mere moments, the old geezer passes out despite his fifth coffee of the day. He rocks back in his chair, arms at his side with a trail of drool spilling out down his chin.

That’s when Eddie moves.

“Hey,” you have your head down on your desk by now, but Eddie doesn’t care.

He doesn’t understand why you’re avoiding the group. Obviously, he misses when you would sit at the table and you correct his homework from the night before. You’re too smart for him. Eddie knows this. You’re more than a brain to him, though. The way you speak with your hands more and more when you get excited.

Eddie likes to pretend not to understand why he gets nervous when you lean over his shoulders to show him how to work out a problem in one of his classes. He pretends to not notice the scent of your soap that smells so sweet and delicious. That the smell lingers when you leave.

What he can't shake, however, is why you haven’t been speaking to him for the last two months. Darting into empty classrooms when you think he’s not looking. When your home, you'll keep the lights off or low enough that he might forget you’re home (he doesn’t). And, you think you’re clever sneaking into the back of his performances with the band, but Eddie sees you there dancing by yourself with a grin on your face that could break apart the gray days and bring back the sunshine. You haven’t missed a single performance yet.

So, where have you been?

You bring your head up from the table because you know Eddie is smarter than to think you’ve fallen asleep. Sometimes you talk, or you twitch your arms - Eddie’s seen this when you knock out after a long day. He'll let you sleep there, but he'll take off your shoes so that you're comfortable. And, he'll even place a blanket over you because you'll start to shiver. But, he never stays. He doesn't want you to wake up because Eddie is notoriously clumsy. Instead, Eddie would sneak into the living room twiddling his thumbs making no noise until you wake up. He wouldn't turn on the television. He wouldn't warm anything up in the microwave. He wouldn't even open his fridge. He would sit on the floor of his living room kicking his feet together, and plucking at the carpet fibers.

You never sleep long - thirty minutes at most.

Eddie thinks about how much time you spend together in his trailer at this moment. You’ve shared everything. Clothes. Towels. Blankets. Toothpaste. Food. Secrets. You've made a mark on him when he wasn’t looking. If there is a way to tattoo someone into their brain, into their heart, you're there.

That terrifies him.

“Hi,” your voice melts him.

Eddie stumbles over his words. “Erm-,”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I just-,”

“How are you doing?” Eddie wants you to keep talking. He’ll ask about anything to keep you here with him. Tempting you like a rabbit, and him holding onto a carrot, he waits for you to bite.

“Good,” you reply. “You?”

“Yeah, good.”

You can’t hold back. “You’re with Roxie, now?”

“Hm?” He hums. “It’s casual.”

“Casual,” you repeat. “Like I said- erm- I’m sorry that I haven’t been around. My classes-,”

“Don’t lie to me,” Eddie’s eyes swell, and you fall deeper into the trap. “What’s happening to you?”

Okay, truth time.

“I liked a boy, and he didn’t like me back,” you stretch out your top. “I even tried changing my look, but that seems pretty pointless now. But, I guess I just got tired of being compared to a boy.”

Eddie could faint. You're infatuated with someone so much that you changed your entire wardrobe. Guilt rubs at him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Eddie's denying what he already knows about himself. That if he kept comparing you to one of his guy friends that certain emotions couldn't grasp hold of the surface for air.

“Who's comparing you to a boy?”

He had to be sure.

“Seriously?” you frown. “Everyone. You. Gareth-,”

Confirmed.

“Is this about Gareth?” Eddie clenches his fist around the back of his chair. “I swear to God, I’ll pummel that little sack of shit.”

“Eddie,” you scold. “It’s not Gareth- never mind.”

“Wait, who’s the guy?”

You hum. “What?”

“You said you liked some guy?” Eddie pieces together. “It has to be one of us, right? I mean you stopped talking to all of us specifically, so which one of us is it?”

“That’s not important,” you suck in a breath. “Eddie, I’m doing homework.”

He snorts, the flips the page so he can read the question, “you’re doing it wrong.”

You roll your eyes. “Aren’t I usually the one who’s correcting you?”

“Gareth’s girlfriend has been helping me since you- never mind,” Eddie sees the tension in your jaw. “Okay, so to solve for E, you plug in this number here and then you take the square root there.”

You’re irritated, but Eddie is right and you mark your paper up how the equation should be.

“Thank you.”

“So, it’s Gareth,” Eddie presses on.

“What?”

“The boy you like that doesn’t like you back?”

“No,” you write another math equation out on your piece of paper. “Actually, Gareth liked me, and I didn’t feel the same.”

Eddie knows this, but he just needs to hear you say you don't like his friend.

“The plot thickens,” he gets comfortable. “Is it Jeff? Come on, Jeff is a catch.”

“Eddie, please drop it,” you beg.

Eddie throws a few more names out that you can ignore over your homework. But, slowly he begins to run out of ideas. You know where he’s going, and you’re not sure how to react when he says,

“It’s not me is it?”

Your pencil stops scribbling, and if you’re careful you can pretend to be thinking really hard about - what two plus two equals. Oh, damn.

“It is me.”

Those three little words trip you up more than Eddie’s jaw being on the floor right now. You stammer for a little too long. Tripping over the right words to say to him.

This is it.

The moment you’ll lose him for good.

You want him to just tear your heart from your chest and squeeze it until it pops. Make the pain of an aching heart go by so much faster.

“Mr. Munson,” Mr. Clark rose like a zombie from the afterlife. “Is there a reason that your seat is empty?”

Eddie whirled around. Still stunned, he replies,

“Uh. . . right, sorry.”

Without making too much noise, Eddie puts himself back into his original seat towards the front of the classroom. Fidgeting with his pencil, someone might mistake that he’s doing homework for the first time.

Eddie lives across the trailer park from you. How could he not see this coming? All the nights he's spent rescuing you from the clutches of your mom, who, despite being a wonderful host, has this unnecessary plea that you embrace your ‘femininity.’ That’s what you call it, he thinks.

Oh, and now to let you down.

Eddie’s seeing someone great. Roxie. She’s - she’s - she’s not as much of a slut as people say. And, he likes - no he loves that thing she does with her tongue.

Okay, he’s getting distracted.

You’re one of his closest and longest friendships he’s had. And now, you, have to go and change that.

Eddie’s mad. Angrier than angry. How dare you bring this to him.

Two months you kept away. You ran around the school like a chicken with your head cut off trying to avoid all of your loyal friends. And, you brought Robin into this mess?

Robin, at the very least, is a sweet and a neutral party. Okay? She doesn’t involve herself with anyone’s drama. She just sticks to the side of the drama like she's riding in a sidecar, and she takes notes. She lingers.

Eddie rubs his eye.

Maybe if you and he went on one tiny - the tiniest - date. As in, he doesn’t pay for food, kind of dates then you’ll get whatever you want out. You can go back to being friends, and Eddie can still see Roxie. Because, he likes Roxie.

He doesn’t like you like that.

Eddie wants nothing more than to forget the conversation you two just had. Yet, you’re lodged in his brain like a damn tumor. Yeah, a tumor. Growing at an alarming rate, he wants to smush your pretty little face. Not in a violent way - no, he’s not like that. He just wants to get out the tension, and - and hold you for a night? Does that make sense?

No, Eddie it does not.

Eddie wishes you didn’t smell so good today . . . and all the other days. If you smelled like an ogre, he could stop thinking about taking you on that ‘barely-call-it-a-date’ date. Although, if you were an ogre and you did smell as good as you do right now - ugh, that doesn't matter!

None of this matters. Why is he thinking like this?

In theory, he’ll take you somewhere romantic. To release you of your crush faster, he’ll spend the money - okay? He decides to break the bank for you.

Only once.

There’s a little spot outside of town that has the most delicious steak dinners. They have a dimly lit dining room, so Eddie wouldn’t have to see the dress you spent hours deciding on wearing. Your bare skin softened by the scented lotion you bought just for the night. He can hear your laugh like a song he knows by memory. You tilt your head back, exposing the flesh of your neck.

After your dinner, that he pays for - not you, he’ll walk you down the street where he parked his van earlier. He’ll have cleaned out and scrubbed the seats until every stain kicks the bucket. Driving you home, he’ll feel that knot in his chest that he knows from watching cheesy romantic comedy movies as practice for when that crap happens to him (he doesn't do that . . . shut up.). That knot tighten a little more by the time he gets to the trailer park. And, by the time he gets out of the car his fingertips start to shake.

Eddie will open your door, if he can get there before you. Taking your hand in his, he’ll feel the warmth of your skin against his. How right the moment feels. How nervous your breath is against his. How close you are to him. He’ll be the one to learn in first - you're too nervous to make that leap.

Lips as sweet as milk and honey. He would kiss you for a long time, always coming back for more. Eddie won't find himself getting enough of you. You’re touching his hair, and he melts.

Eddie will never want the night to end.

“Munson!”

Eddie doesn’t recall falling asleep. Yet, his eyes snap open. Mr. Clark’s slobbering from the side of his mouth. He’s so close that Eddie makes out the patches in his face where he’s forgotten to shave.

The classroom is emptying. He only catches a glimpse of you leaving.

“Go home, boy,” Mr. Clark begs. “You and I both know you don’t want to be here for any longer.”

No, Eddie does not.

In fact, Eddie would much rather be wrapped in your arms in either his bed or your bed.

Eddie shoves his notebook and his pencil back into his backpack knowing full well he heard something crunch unhappily in there. Racing out of the classroom, he sprints after you in the hallway.

But, you’ve already gone.

-> <-

tags: @hellfirenacht @queercodedcharacter @ogoc-19 @littlewinchester1 @stardustingold @ghost4love @spenciesprincess @animechick555 @foggyfooz @aactuaaltraash @loves0phelia

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson preference #angst

[yumigguk]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲| 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

summary: After finding out that you slept at Taehyung's house, a fire is burning inside him.

pairing: fwb!jungkook × reader

genre: smut, angst

description: college!au; f2l. Memories of your own involvement with Jungkook resurface, and you realize that maybe those feelings you've suppressed for so long are stronger than you thought.

warnings: intercourse, exhibitionism, dirty talk, fingering, degrading names, spanking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spit, d/s themes, ass play

words: 4k

Jeon Jungkook and you have been involved in this situation for more than four months. He's always there for you when you need someone, and you are there for him when he needs someone. But it's much more than that. Both of you are in the same group of friends, yet nobody knows the dirty secrets that you both keep.

This happened after you moped around following your breakup. From the moment he stepped in, there was an air of comfort and protection that surrounded him. He had a natural charisma that drew people in, but it was his unwavering support and presence that truly set him apart.

Whenever you needed someone to talk to, Jungkook was there, listening attentively to your every word. He offered a shoulder to lean on and a warm, reassuring smile that seemed to say, "I'm here for you." You couldn't help but notice the way he made you feel safe, like nothing could harm you as long as he was around.

Jungkook's gestures spoke volumes, though you remained oblivious to their romantic undertones. He would always walk on the side of the sidewalk closer to traffic, subtly shielding you from any potential danger. He'd insist on driving you home, no matter the distance, just to make sure you arrived safely. And his protective nature extended to small things too, like offering you his jacket when the evening air turned chilly.

His scent was another clue to his feelings. Jungkook always smelled amazing, his cologne lingering in the air after he left. It was a fragrance that seemed to envelop you in a comforting embrace, yet you didn't fully understand the significance of this lingering scent.

After a short time, you realize what a douchebag your ex-boyfriend was, and during your angry phase, you confessed that he wasn't even able to satisfy you. You think this might have railed him up because you ended bend over with a finger in your ass, screaming so hard that the whole neighbourhood heard.

It is clear to everyone that you and he grow closer when they find the two of you together in different places. For example, Jimin saw you and Jungkook at McDonald's, or your best friend, Han Soo, saw you and Jungkook studying at the library. Hoseok always seems to bump into both of you in the hallways. You deny that you and Jeon Jungkook have something going on in front of everyone because you both know things would be weird if your friends found out.

Thinking about your friends, you can't believe that you and Taehyung had so many drinks last night that your head still hurts. You received messages from Jeon, but you saw them in the morning while rushing to catch the bus to college and letting Taehyung snore:

"Han Soo told me you are alone at Taehyung's place. Be responsible and don't drink too much."

"Why don't you reply?"

"Want me to drive you home?"

"Y/N???"

"Whatever, enjoy your time with Taehyung.

Rereading the messages during your boring lecture, you reply with, 'I took the bus, but thank you.' After a short time, he responds with, 'Come to my car after.' You didn't know why, and you didn't reply because he knew that you would do what he told you.

When the lecture is finally over, you navigate through the crowd. Upon reaching the parking lot, you spot Jungkook's car. As you get closer, you notice that the windows are open, and Jungkook is blowing a cigarette, looking like a mad man. You get into the car, confusion evident on your face. 'Hi?' Your eyes focus on his lips, then his torso. You can't deny his attractiveness; he's built like a god, and seeing him smoke always heats you up. He's wearing a black oversized t-shirt, and he smells so good that it instantly flusters you, reminding you that sometimes you smell like him too. You find attractive perfume mixed with the scent of a cigarette.

“Wouldn't you care to explain why you slept at another man's place last night?" Jungkook says, looking outside the window as his body tenses in the car seat. You didn't know how to react because it's the first time he asked you these kinds of questions. You both discussed that you are not exclusive and have been defensive about catching feelings. "So?" he says again, much more stiffly than before, looking at you now as he raises an eyebrow.

“When you say 'other man,' you mean Taehyung?" You said, laughing in his face. "Why are you so serious about it, Jeon? Are you jealous?" Now you are looking into his eyes with a smile on your lips. "You agreed that it's not exclusive. You agreed." And this holds a lot of meaning because you don't sleep with other people, and you only want him. You are definitely jealous that he makes other women feel the same way he makes you feel. Your eyes appear cold to him.

He scoffs, "Oh, so you wouldn't mind if you saw me with another woman, right?" He smirks, and his gaze darkens as you feel he's challenging you. "Fine, you're right. We aren't exclusive, baby," he mocks, but the feeling you get is that he's not saying what he wanted to in the first place. A feeling of nausea washes over your body, making you feel sick.

"No, Jeon, why would I mind seeing you with another woman? I already told you we aren't exclusive." It feels like a game right now, and you feel a hole in your stomach when you say it because you wouldn't find it pleasing to see Jungkook with another woman. But the truth is that you both agreed that this relationship is no-strings-attached. Seeing that Jungkook has no reply to what you just said, he looks outside the window again and lights another cigarette. "Can you drive me home now?" you ask him, feeling the tension in the air.

He throws away the cigarette. “As you wish, babe," he says, but you're not sure if it's about exclusivity or driving you home. Then he starts the car.

The way home is quiet and tense, and you can't understand his attitude. What's wrong with sleeping at your childhood friend's house, who's also his friend? And why is it okay for him to see other women? The car stops, and he opens the door for you. "See you tonight," looking away from you, avoiding your gaze.

"See you," you whisper, knowing damn well he heard you. You close the door and walk away from the car. As usual, Jungkook doesn't leave until he sees you safely enter the building.

Tonight is Friday night, and you and your friends always go to the club to celebrate the weekend like some college freaks.

You've dressed yourself up with a short skirt and a top that flatters your chest, wearing makeup and cologne that could make any man kneel.

“Y/N, you look gorgeous” your friend Han Soo compliments you. “You're divine. You're going to catch every man's eye in the club. Hope you finally get laid tonight.” You hate lying to her, but you know your situation with Jungkook is unstable, and after the talk you two had today, you don't plan on telling her anytime soon.

After arriving at the club, you and Jungkook don't even look at each other. How immature from both of you. The music is loud, the lights are flashing, and the atmosphere is electric.

As the night progresses, after a few drink with Jimin and talking about politics “Fuck socialism” Jimin laughs.

You notice Jungkook chatting and dancing with an attractive girl, she’s grinding on him like there’s no tomorrow. You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy deep inside you. He’s grabbing her hair, whispering in her ears.

Memories of your own involvement with Jungkook resurface, and you realize that maybe those feelings you've suppressed for so long are stronger than you thought.

Seeing Jungkook with another woman stirs a mix of emotions within you—jealousy, longing, and confusion.

You watch them together, and it's clear that he's trying to make you jealous. His subtle glances in your direction and the way he touches the girl suggest that he knows you're watching. Your heart races, and it becomes increasingly difficult to deny your feelings for him.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You turn to Taehyung. "Taehyung, want to dance?" you ask without showing emotion. "Sure, let's do it," he says excitedly. You know he's drunk, and you remember that he once confessed his attraction to you when he was inebriated. You try to forget about it because he never laid a finger on you, showing that he values your friendship.

As you move to the dance floor with Taehyung, you can't help but glance back at Jungkook and the girl he's with. Your intention is clear—you want to make Jungkook jealous, just as he seemed to want to do to you earlier. As you and Taehyung dance, you can feel Jungkook's eyes on you. The tension between you and him becomes palpable, and it's clear that the unspoken emotions you both have been avoiding are coming to the surface.

You grind your hips on Taehyung, your mouth slightly parted but with a smile on your lips. "Are you drunk?" he asks, worried as you feel him getting aroused. "Shut up, Tae. It's just one dance.”

In that moment, the club's pounding music and swirling lights fade into the background, and it's just you, Jungkook, and the complicated feelings you've been trying to ignore for so long. The dance floor becomes a battleground of unspoken emotions.

You excuse yourself and make your way to the bathroom, leaving Taehyung on the dance floor without a word. In the quiet moments alone, your heart throbs with jealousy after witnessing Jungkook with yet another one of his many girls.

You shouldn't be jealous, but now you confess to yourself that you truly are. When you exit the bathroom, your heart still heavy with envy over seeing Jungkook with one of his many girls, you search for Han Soo to excuse yourself and make a hasty exit, planning to offer a vague excuse about not feeling well.

As you scan the crowd, you unexpectedly come across Taehyung, who had been looking for you. You explain to him that you're not feeling well and that you'd like to head home early.

Taehyung, concerned, asks, "Is it because of the dance?" He covers his face with his palms, seemingly regretful. "Y/N, I didn't mean to make you uncomfort-"

You quickly interrupt him, "Taehyung, don't worry, I really feel sick. It had nothing to do with you. I initiated the dance."

He removes his hands from his face and says, "I'm going to call a cab for us." He starts searching for his phone.

“You don’t need to-“ before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook suddenly appears next to you. Taehyung acknowledges his presence and says, "Hey, man, I'm going to take Y/N home now. She's not feeling well. Tell others that we are leaving."

Jungkook scoffs at Taehyung's words and responds curtly, "Not feeling well, huh? Don't worry then. I'll take her home myself. You can enjoy the rest of the party." His eyes appear flat and emotionless, a stark contrast to his seemingly rude tone.

Without waiting for Taehyung's response, Jungkook grabs your hand, and the two of you swiftly disappear from the scene, leaving Taehyung without a chance to react.

Little did you know, this night would bring unexpected emotions to the surface. Still shocked, you get in the car without saying anything.

The atmosphere was thick with tension. Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white with anger. You both had just witnessed each other dancing with other people at the club, and the realization that jealousy ran deep within both of you had shaken the foundation of your friendship.

"Fuck, can't believe you were dancing with him, Y/N. You’re playing with my patience” you’ve never seen him that angry.

"Well, you weren't exactly innocent, Jungkook. Your pretty little girlfriend was rubbing her ass against you the whole night.”

His jaw clenched, and he turned his gaze to the road ahead, his anger palpable." Didn’t you say that you were okay with me seeing other women? Are you jealous? Say it.”

"I didn't expect you to be fucking her through clothes, Jungkook. Fuck you, you are the one who’s jealous.”

The car was filled with silence for a moment, broken only by the distant sounds of the night. Both of you were wrestling with the realization that your feelings ran deeper than you had ever acknowledged. The tension in the car was unbearable as you both grappled with the newfound emotions that had surfaced. The truth was, you both felt more than just friendship, but neither of you had been willing to admit it until that jealous night at the club.

Jungkook pulled over his car without saying a word. "What the heck? What are you doing?" You asked, a mix of anger and confusion in your voice.

"Get in the back," he said sternly. You complied, thinking for a moment that maybe the two of you were going to clarify everything that had happened tonight and sort out the mixed feelings that had arisen.

Once you were both in the back seat, he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you onto his lap. He roughly grasped your chin, looking into your eyes you can see his eyes are darker, full of anger. Without a word, he cupped your face with his hands, his touch demanding and intense.

His lips crashed into yours, a rough collision of longing and frustration. It was a kiss that held a multitude of unspoken words, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between friendship and something more. His mouth moved forcefully against yours, as if trying to claim you, and your response was equally fierce.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you tasted the raw desire in his kiss. It was a passionate, almost primal exchange, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings you had both kept buried for far too long.

As your lips finally parted, both of you were left breathless, and the car seemed to hold its breath too, as if aware of the uncharted territory you had just ventured into.

"I can't believe I saw you with someone else tonight," he confessed, his jealousy undeniable. "That kiss... it drove me crazy, Y/N."

His words carried the weight of realization, acknowledging the jealousy that had flared up within him after our passionate kiss. It was a moment of vulnerability, and we both knew that things between us had shifted in a way that couldn't be ignored.

Bringing his hand underneath your skirt, his index finger to your clothed sex to gently rub all over your clit. The aftermath of that intense kiss left you feeling undeniably aroused. “Did you get that aroused from dancing with Taehyung?” He chuckles.

“Fuck off” you growl out and he slaps your right asscheek, you yelp at the pleasurable pain.

“Smart mouth, huh? I will fuck the smartness away, whore”. His fingers find their way into your core and you gasp in surprise. “Not that feisty anymore”

“Jungkook-“ your walls clenched around his fingers and he hums as he plays with his lip piercing.

“What, baby? What do my little whore wants?” he purrs, a cocky smirk spreading across his face as his fingers move faster as he wraps your hair around in a pony tail.

“Please” you plead, the unspoken tension between you two had finally erupted into the open, leaving you with an undeniable craving for Jungkook.

“Please, what?” he asks with a mixture of trepidation and desire.

“Please, finger fuck me faster” getting flustered and wetter than ever, you realized that you were always submissive to him

“Ohh, that’s my good whore. Getting this whiny only from my fingers. Moan for how long you want, bitch, you know it doesn’t even compare to what my dick feels” each word hung in the charged air, heavy with anticipation, your heart racing from the abused g-spot.

“I’m gonna cum, please” you say with trembling lips and a racing heart, screw-in your eyes shut at the feeling of him pumping his fingers.

“Cum, dumb slut, cum on my fingers”He says raspy, and you can feel the burning sensation in your stomach intensifying as he curls his fingers.

"You got the real man at home now, whore. I'm going to slide in and out of your holes slowly and torture you with pleasure.“ he says raspy with a cocky smile as he tugs his pants down his legs.

Your heart raced, and your breaths came in shallow, heated gasps. The taste of Jungkook still lingered on your lips, a heady mix of desire and longing that pulsed through my veins.

You feel the head of his dick brushing his head along your sensitive clit. “You were acting like a slut earlier so you should be fucked like one. Am I right?”

“Yes” you admitt with no shame as you feel him positioning himself at your entrance. Humming in satisfaction, spits in his hand and spreads it all over cock before he slowly begins to penetrate you.

You gasp at the feeling of his bare dick, feeling it sink into you stretching your walls.

“Feels good to finally have a thick cock stretching you and hitting deep, doesn't it?" He fucks you from the bottom, cock burried deep into your cunt. You moan and clench him so hard that you’re making him shut his eyes.

His hips snapping until the meet your ass as he continues to fucking himself in and out of your sloppy cunt, you are a moaning mess.

“You can't lie to me, cockslut. I know that’s what you wanted, being fucked in the car while car are passing, making everyone see that you belong to me”

“Fuck, yes, make me yours” he grunts at your words, his thrusts animalistic as he grabs your neck.

“This cunt is mine. Mine to touch. Mind to kiss. Mine to fuck. You got it?”Jungkook askes, chuckling as he tightens his grip around your neck

“Only yours.” He delivers a harsh thrust at your words and all you could to is to moan.

He pants, pounding into you as he puts his thumb to circle your clit.

“Let me cum, please” you beg and feeling of his cock brushing against your walls is too much, hitting your g-spot in a way that made you see stars.

“Cum on it. Show me that I’m yours” The overstimulation is way too much and it makes you feel every nerve inside. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm as you sob underneath him.

“Jungkook” you sob, tears falling on your cheeks and his trusts start getting sloppy. It doesn’t take long for him to shoot his load inside of you. He grunts animalistically, his vice-like grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, I love having you as my whore". After a few more lazy thrusts, continuously fucking his load into you, he comes to a full stop. He pulls out and rests his head.

It was a silence pregnant with possibility, a moment when the uncharted territory of our feelings lay before us, waiting to be explored. In that silence, a thousand unspoken words hung in the air, their weight almost tangible. It was a moment of raw vulnerability and a newfound awareness of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface.

It has been a week since the car encounter you had with Jungkook. That week without Jungkook had felt like an eternity, each passing day heavier than the last.

At first, there was a lingering sense of confusion and uncertainty that left a knot in your stomach. Why had he skipped classes? Why hadn't he replied to your texts?

As the days went by, those feelings of confusion morphed into a deep, gnawing sadness.

You found yourself constantly checking your phone, hoping for a message from him that never came. It was like waiting for a lifeline in a sea of uncertainty, but all you received was silence.

The empty seat next to you in class seemed to taunt you, a stark reminder of his absence. Your usual conversations and shared laughter were replaced by a hollow ache. You missed his presence, the way he made you feel safe and understood.

Nights were the hardest.

In the quiet darkness, your thoughts were consumed by questions and doubts. Had you done something wrong? Was he avoiding you intentionally? The weight of those unspoken questions pressed down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Loneliness settled in like an unwelcome guest, and you found yourself yearning for his company more than ever.

The world felt dull and gray without him, and every day without his smile, his laughter, and his presence felt like a never-ending storm.

But amidst the sadness, there was a glimmer of hope. The memory of that jealousy sex in the car, the unspoken desire between you two, gave you a flicker of optimism. Maybe, just maybe, this tumultuous week would lead to something more, something that would make the wait worthwhile.

You spotted Jungkook at the end of the bustling college hallway, and your heart did a somersault. Your emotions were a whirlwind of confusion, uncertainty, and a longing that was becoming harder to ignore.

As you approached him, you could feel the tension in the air, like a thick fog surrounding both of you. You tried to read his expression, but his face was a mask of indecipherable emotions.

"Jungkook," you greeted him tentatively. He looked up, and his eyes met yours. For a moment, it felt like the world around you had faded away, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment.

"Hey," he replied, his voice a mixture of nerves and desire. The silence that followed was deafening. You both stood there, caught in a web of unspoken feelings. It was clear that he was just as confused as you were, yet there was an undeniable magnetic pull drawing you closer.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice trembling slightly, "I've been thinking about that night, Y/N. About us."

Your heart skipped a beat as you waited for him to continue, your emotions on edge.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he admitted, his eyes locked onto yours. "I want to be with you, Y/N."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you could feel the intensity of his desire. It was a confession that left you breathless and aching for more. "I've been so confused, too," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to be with you too, Jungkook."

A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, and it felt like the sun breaking through the clouds on a stormy day.

In that moment, surrounded by the bustling college hallway and the curious gazes of passing students, you both knew that something had shifted. The uncharted territory you had ventured into was no longer a mystery but a path you were both willing to explore together.

…….

Thank u everyone for the support, I know it’s short but hope u all enjoy it. Also, English isn’t my first language so pls forgive me 😔😔. Asks open.

Tag list: @nays2112 @gxtwllsn @iluvhueningkai @canyon-lwt @kaiparkerwifes @thelilbutifulthings @omgwolfie @grltwin @armystay89

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x original character #jungkook x y/n #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jungkook smut #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook

[tkaulitzlvr]

SORRY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you were drinking your sorrows away after yours and tom’s breakup, receiving unwanted attention at the random club you are at, until the last person you expected to see comes to your rescue.

content: angst + smut

a/n: again pulled this out of my ass this is becoming a very common theme LOL. this isn’t what i wanted to post but it’s been a week since i last put anything out so i threw it together, def not my best work and i feel like all i write is angst to smut whoops, hope u all enjoy anyway and thank u for 500 followers!!

the alcohol soon takes over as i down another shot, the liquid burns my throat and only fuels my recklessness. not that i mind, in fact, it is exactly what i need. tonight i don’t want to feel - tired of the everlasting burden of my emotions. i want to be numb, nothing but an empty vessel, letting the alcohol lead the way opposed to my diseased mind. music blares through the speakers, probably loud enough to cause some serious damage to my eardrums. but i don’t know how long i have been at this club for, though it is long enough for my hearing to become accustomed to the thick bass pulsating through my body, no longer wincing whenever i would near the speakers.

intoxicated bodies encircle me whilst i make my way to the centre, some just like me - alone and drinking away their self pity. others dance with their friends, slurred giggles leaving their lips as they sloppily sway their hips to the music, covered in nothing besides their skimpy dresses. those that i envy don’t dance alone, but with a man beside them, hands on their body, faces inches apart. they are able to focus on the one person in front of them, tuning out the hundreds of people surrounding them. but, each person that i see all have one thing in common - they fit in. and i want that too, so bad, instead of feeling so misplaced - that feeling ripe within me, apparent ever since he left.

everyone knew about tom and i’s breakup, hell, how could they not? ‘germany’s biggest heartthrob - tokio hotel guitarist tom kaulitz, parts with model girlfriend after two years!’ - that’s a headline most reporters dream of, christmas having come early for them when the news came out. and it spread like wildfire, his fans - who were particularly notorious for not being entirely fond of tom finding a long term girlfriend - had hit the jackpot. they speculated, some saying that i cheated on him, some insistent on me being too controlling - others even going as far as to say i made him choose between me and the band. but when it came down to it, they were just rumours, plain and simple. no one is aware of the true reasoning behind it - only the two of us knew why we parted.

it was a mutual agreement, yet tom was the one that initiated it. the distance inevitably put between us as a result of him travelling on tours, from continent to continent, state to state, meant that we rarely saw each other, this putting stress on the both of us. i wanted us to work, more than anything, yet the way we drifted apart from each other made it impossible, being with him feeling like a chore as every small disagreement would blow way out of proportion, usually fixed by sex, the cycle repeating for the last few weeks of our relationship, until it reached breaking point. and i didn’t want to be used for my body, though i knew deep down tom loved me for more than that, fixing our problems with physical intimacy was only a temporary solution - leading to us parting ways.

that was one reason for our breakup, however the other was far more serious, and tom wasn’t even aware of it - but i had been speculating for a while. with his frequent travelling, i knew that i wasn’t the only girl in his life. how could i have been? he would go without seeing me for weeks, and whilst he had changed past his womanising ways, it would be stupidly naïve of me to think that he had moved on from that lifestyle completely. or perhaps my mind was tricking me, the loneliness i was often left to increasing the paranoia. though he had never explicitly given me the impression he was cheating, the thought always nagged in my mind, making the breakup slightly easier once he announced that we were no longer working. he promised that he still loved me, that maybe in the future things would work out, but i knew that was just a way to make our separation less bitter.

the constant articles, pictures, videos, and speculations of tom with other women each week lead me to the present, drinking my sorrows away a month after our breakup, wishing that i had never let him go despite agreeing that us parting ways would be the best solution. i was tired too, sick of fighting for a relationship that was no longer there. sometimes it felt utterly one sided, like i was the only one willing to try. tom refused to admit this, reminding me that "i know how much he loves me". however we just didn’t work anymore, his claims of our love like empty spews of desperation, but any words uttered from his beautiful mouth were words of truth to me, until i came to the soul-crushing realisation that he doesn’t adore me the way he did when we first met, all those years ago.

but god, every time i see pictures of him with a girl that isn't me, my heart wrenches at the sight, slowly tearing my insides apart as i recognise letting him go as my deepest regret. and the anger at not only myself, but him for leaving me eats me up, alcohol and temporary fixes being the only thing that can put my ill mind at ease.

but tonight tom isn’t on my mind. i’m desperate, longing for the touch of anyone who will give me the attention. that is why i left the house wearing nothing but a tight black dress that barely passed my mid-thighs. tom would never let me leave the house in such an outfit alone. he was always over-protective over me, loving the idea that I was his and only his. however he had left me, and i don’t care how promiscuous i appear, because admittedly, i am more needy than ever. my body running way ahead of my mind, i move sloppily to the rhythm of the music, feeling two hands grab my waist gently, pulling me into them as i turn around, seeing a tall-ish guy with fluffy blonde hair smirking down me.

he wasn’t tom. he could never be tom. nobody could. not a single person on this earth could even come close to him, could make me feel the way he did, both mentally and physically. right now it doesn’t matter, i don’t care who he is, because, on the surface, he is a male giving me attention, something which i have craved over this last month of loneliness.

"hi there." I utter drunkenly, slurring my words and backing further into him, the alcohol sinking more and more into my system as i no longer care who is dancing with me, this being the first time i have experienced physical touch since tom. and oh god how i’ve missed it. i’m a mess; a desperate, foolish fucking mess. if tom could see me right now, he wouldn’t recognise me. hell, i don't even know who i am anymore - in all honesty i had lost every part of what i thought i was the second he had walked out of the door. somehow, through the alcohol and attractive man behind me, tom is all my mind can focus on - his body the only clear image in there, beyond the fuzziness from the alcohol. i utterly despise the way he has such an effect on me, knowing that he has already gotten over our relationship despite the years we spent together, even before we had started dating, we had been close friends. using all the strength within me, i drown out every thought of him, attempting to enjoy the bitter-sweet freedom and get over him.

"what's your name beautiful?" the mysterious guy shouts over the crowd, tightening his grip on my waist.

"doesn’t matter." i reply. honestly, it didn’t - i probably won’t see this guy ever again, not after fucking him anyway. in any other circumstance, i would be scolding myself for giving myself up so easily, selling myself like some cheap slut. now though, i’m no longer myself, turning to face him, latching my arms around his neck. "what's yours?"

"alex." he responds, clearly not looking to make conversation, his dick appearing to be doing all the talking. "do you wanna get out of here?" he signals to the door, my head nodding eagerly in response, craving for any intimate moment no matter who it is with. part of me convinces myself that i am with tom, that it is him i am leaving the club with, as i would every single time. i imagine that it is him holding me with such adoration, that it is him soothing me in every way possible, yet i know that he is never coming back.

my body pushes its way through the crowd, uttering broken excuse me’s as i walk by, legs becoming weaker by the second as my vision slowly blurs. i soon pick up on the reality of the situation, disgust and shame echoing within me as i realise how fucked up my mind truly is. i am about to have sex with a guy who I have never met before - whether or not tom had broken my heart, i deserved to have morals. the rationality ticking in by the second, i roughly pull out of alex's grasp, his tall frame turning around in confusion.

"i- i have to get to my friends." i lie, totally aware that i came here alone, my words barely audible as my breathing becomes uneven.

"no, come with me, don't be like this baby." he smiles, pulling me along with him, tears soon clouding my vision as the chances of me escaping the situation seem to slip through my fingers before i can gather any sense of what is happening.

"let me go!" i muster all the courage and strength within me and yank my arm away, stumbling backwards into the cold brick wall behind me, the harshness causing me to shiver as i bite the inside of my mouth, praying for something, anything, to take me out of this situation. alex nears towards me, our faces inches apart as he towers over me, my body weak and defenceless against his.

"stop being such a bratty fucking bitch and just come with me-" he begins, grabbing ahold of my arm, only to be pushed to the floor in a matter of seconds, my head looking upwards in confusion to be met with a face i dreaded and longed to see at the same time.

"fuck off!" tom begins, squaring up to alex, who is useless against him, the height difference almost humorous. if i hadn’t been scared for my life seconds prior, i probably would’ve laughed, though the only thing i am truly able to process is the confusion that soon replaces any fear within me. "you ever go near my girl again and i'll break your fucking jaw. you understand, hm?" he shouts, alex smiling to himself and walking away, clearly not looking for a fight, though his cold glare moments ago said otherwise. his girl. i am everything but, closer to being the complete opposite, though i am too startled to consider questioning his words right now.

my body refuses to move, paralysed in utter shock, wondering whether the alcohol is causing me to hallucinate. i hadn’t seen tom since the day i moved out of his house, and now he is standing in front of me. and fuck, he looks good. it doesn’t matter that it has only been a month, somehow he seems to look much better, and undeniably different. his hair, usually a dark shade of blonde, the thick locks tied into a ponytail, adorned with whatever cap matched his outfit, is changed, almost so drastically it is hard to recognise him. instead, jet black braids rest on his shoulders, the colour mirroring his entire outfit - dark and cold. his cap is replaced with a small bandana, fitted securely around his forehead, the silver piercing on his lips now just as dark as his hair, matte black, making the soft shade of pink on his lips stand out even more.

though his new look is certainly a shock, the more daunting realisation comes merely from his presence. he is here - standing inches away from me. i am unable to gauge his next move, his expression still just as harsh as it had been once he had threatened that guy. however, any doubts i have are quickly put to bed, his tensed frame nearing mine, planting a calloused hand on my shoulder before pulling me into a tight hug, his thumb caressing my lower back whilst his other hand rests in my hair. i sob into his chest, failing pathetically to hide my emotions as i cling on to him, my small frame shaking due to the cold berlin weather and my irrational state.

"i’m so sorry." he mutters, resting his head on top of mine. i cannot respond, choking on my tears and unable to do anything but hold onto him as if he may slip away. my vision is slowly blurring, the countless drinks i had making their appearance as i realise how badly i have fucked up by coming here. beyond my intoxicated state, i realise that i don’t want to be this close to tom. i long to scream at the top of my lungs, something about how he made me feel, how fucked up he is, and how much i hate him, but right now i am too shaken to even stand up alone, so i save my breath and prepare to spew my feelings out when i have the energy.

"we need to get you home." he mutters, pulling away after a couple minutes. i stare into his eyes for the first time since we broke up, his immediately filling with hurt once he registers my damaged expression. "god, this is all my fault." he whispers under his breath, guiding me to his car, grabbing his jacket that he always kept in the back for instances like this, knowing that i get cold easily. it brings me some comfort knowing that he kept the jacket there, though it probably means nothing. he places it gently over my shivering frame before climbing into the driver’s side and beginning to drive to my apartment. the house that tom and i shared was in his name, meaning that i insisted on moving out. despite us breaking up, he helped me find a place, a decent sized two bedroom apartment in the heart of berlin. though it wasn't nearly as perfect as our home, it was something, and i am grateful for it.

i face away from him, not willing to forgive him despite my vulnerable state just moments before. no matter how much he protected me just then, i can’t place my trust in him, my heart and mind still wary, the thought of him discarding me for other girls so nonchalantly after we parted fresh in my mind.

"i missed you." he announces into the empty silence, his head turning in my direction whilst i scoff in response. "don't lie to me tom." his words bring anger coursing through my veins the second they utter from his mouth, sobriety soon taking over me as the alcohol quickly wares off. if he missed me, he wouldn't have fucked every girl he has seen this past month, he would have come back, or better yet, he wouldn’t have left me in the first place.

"i'm telling the truth." he begins, hesitantly turning his gaze to meet mine, my eyes filling with tears before i can attempt to collect my composure. "i regret leaving you. i need you to-"

"do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? i haven't been eating, sleeping, you've just seen me almost have sex with a guy i'd barely known for five minutes for gods sake!" i shout, my voice breaking as the tears cascade inevitably down my cheeks, unable to hide my vulnerability in this moment. he winces slightly at the mention of me nearly sleeping with alex, his grip on the wheel increasing whilst his jaw is clenched.

he is hurt. i have known him long enough to be able to distinguish how he is feeling without him saying a word. the pained look on his face almost pleases me, glad to see him guilty over the emotional turmoil he has caused me, because i long for him to grasp even a small segment of how i feel, and my small outburst has definitely achieved that.

"i’m sorry. i never deserved you, now even less than ever. i fucked up, badly. i have no idea how to make it up to you. help me, please schatz. i want to be better, for you." he finishes, pulling into his driveway as the dark grey gates open, revealing the house that i share so many memories in, yet it feels strangely foreign, like i don’t belong here, and i never did.

"sure doesn't seem like it." i begin. "from everything i've seen online you seem to have gotten over me pretty fast. thought you were better than meaningless sex, but i guess not. same old tom." i scoff, shaking my head in disbelief of his empty words.

"what are you talking about? i haven't had sex with anyone. not since you anyway." he fires back, staring into my eyes, and for some reason, i don't think he is lying, the amount of time spent with him across my life meaning i can read him like a book.

"whatever, i don’t have the fucking energy for this. besides, you said you were taking my home. this isn’t my house anymore, incase you fucking forgot.” i state matter-of-factly, not in the mood for continuing this conversation, or even being around him.

"you can barely walk. no way was i leaving you to go home alone. you can spend the night here." he replies assertively, stepping out of the car as i do the same, slamming the door shut in frustration.

"you don't have to protect me tom. we aren't together anymore." i respond bitterly, looking down at the ground, wishing it would swallow me up. his hand gently grazes mine, testing his limits as he attempts to take his hand in mine, to which i quickly refuse, pulling away and looking at him in confusion.

"what are you doing?" i hiss, looking upwards as he puts his hands up, surrendering.

"sorry just, please come inside, you're freezing in that tiny dress." not having the energy to argue, i reluctantly sigh, following him inside, taking in the all too familiar surroundings and immediately reminiscing on all the memories i have here, longing to go back to the time when things weren't so complicated.

"look i-" tom begins, however his words are soon shortened to a stop as i quickly cut him off, lethargic and carrying a lack of effort to argue with him, because i know that no matter how long i let him speak, the conversation will only end badly, turning even more sour than it already is right now.

"i'm tired, please can we talk about this in the morning." i sigh, my head pounding as i groan out in pain, massaging my temples slowly and closing my eyes.

"okay, you take our- my bed and i'll sleep in the guest room. there's some of my hoodies in there for you to sleep in." he responds, a look of defeat evident among his complexion, relief coursing through me as i nod my head, walking up to his bedroom. the countless nights i spent in this room, wrapped in his arms, the countless mornings i woke up to his affection, the countless evenings we shared intimate moments all seem to be lost as i feel a stranger here, almost misplaced without a sense of belonging.

i open the wardrobe, immediately knowing which door has his hoodies from when i would often steal one, something he is used to me doing. i pick out my favourite one. it is simple - a white hoodie with writing printed across its front. to others, it holds little meaning, however even after our breakup, it holds thousands of memories, because it is what he wore when we had our first kiss, and the first piece of clothing he ever gave me, this small act something i won’t ever be able to forget. slipping my dress off and the hoodie over my head, his scent quickly envelops me, providing with all the security i have been longing for, my mind quickly breaking down as tears cloud my vision, my desire to have him holding me taking over as i wish that we would have never parted.

climbing into the soft sheets, i attempt to fall asleep, any element of lethargy in my body fading away as i crave to be in tom’s arms like i have been each time i have laid in this bed. his side is cold and empty, my body shuffling over to it as i snuggle into his pillow, reaching out pathetically to any remnant of him i have left. seconds feel like hours of me thinking of him, wondering if he cares anywhere close to the extent that i do, finding myself longing to take a small look inside his mind, because all i want is his love. the darkness encloses me, silence echoing throughout the empty house and only fuelling my wandering mind. every thought flashes back to him, and i loathe how he can consume my entire being without even being aware of the effect he has on me.

eventually, my eyes begin to droop, almost falling into a somewhat peaceful slumber, however before i can do so, the door creaks open, light from the hallway leaking into the bedroom, before it is cast out seconds later with the soft click of the door closing, footsteps nearing the bed as i feel it dip beside me. my body is afraid to move, instead laying still in confusion until i feel a single hand brush against my shoulder, causing me to whip my head around, tom’s eyes gazing into mine.

‘i can't do it." he mutters, scanning my eyes with his own, only the seas of brown are filled with sorrow, slightly distinguishable through the darkness.

as much as i want to tell him to leave, to scold him for disturbing me when i was finally close to falling asleep, i simply can’t. i am compelled to him, silently thanking his impulsiveness and finding myself pleading for us to work things out.

"can't do what?" i respond, laying on my side and facing him, our bodies at each side of the bed as he is slightly reluctant to push my boundaries.

"live without you, i can't do it. i need you." he replies, slowly reaching his hand out until it meets mine, his fingers clasping mine in the centre of the bed, this small act of physical affection being the only thing that binds us together, yet it is more than enough.

"you broke me tom." i whisper, blinking away the tears as i refuse to cry again, tired of being so vulnerable around him. “do you realise that?”

"i know, and i’m so sorry schatz. i’ll never be able to make that up to you. but i want to try, can you let me do that? please baby." his body slowly nears mine, until our faces are inches apart. he removes his hand from mine, my face falling in disappointment, however this quickly turns into curiosity as it moves only to reach up and caress my cheek, wiping the single tear that had fallen with his thumb. i wither helplessly into his touch, feeling completely and utterly trapped within his affection. i am bound to him, left hopeless and attached. no matter how much i try fight, it is useless, my body and my mind is unable to function without him.

"it’s only you schatz." he mutters, his face nearing mine as he captures my lips in a sweet kiss, the first one we have shared in over a month. the way his lips fit so perfectly with mine, their softness contrasting with the harshness he showed me all those weeks ago, makes me wonder how i managed to live without this feeling all this time. he is a drug, his kisses addictive as i find myself longing for more, desperate to make up for the lost intimacy as a result of our separation.

"i love you." he whispers against my lips, reattaching them almost immediately with even more desire than before, sealing every unspoken apology in the most beautiful way possible. the darkness between us is a barrier, preventing my vision from witnessing the man above me. tom reaches quickly to flip the bedside lamp on, faded yellow light leaking dimly around the room, illuminating his features as i can finally see every part of him. and oh god, is he perfect. his lips plump and parted, tinted with a rosy shade of pink, adorned with that same piercing that drives me crazy each and every time, tired and shaky breaths erupting from them whilst i stare into his eyes, deep pools of brown that i could get lost in if i look for too long.

his body. crafted by god himself - concrete proof that he really does have favourites. each inch of skin soft and sheen, resembling silk itself whilst my fingers slowly trail down it, melting into the pale surface , past his chest to his chiselled abs, gently grazing the muscle and refusing to break eye contact. my hand creeps lower and lower, tom becoming increasingly flustered until they reach the waistband of his boxers. at an agonisingly slow pace, my finger slips inside, fiddling with the waistband whilst touching the skin there, refusing to move my hand any lower whilst i take in tom’s expression. his eyes are flickering between being fully closed and half-lidded, barely noticeable wrinkles lining his forehead as his eyebrows knit together, lips parted with shaky breaths uttering from them, the cold air fanning onto my face, heavy against his warm kiss.

"fuck- please don't tease." he whispers, resting his forehead against mine and beginning to slowly kiss my lips once again, my body feeling full again as i soon realise how much i missed this feeling. complying with his plea, my hand slips further into his boxers, a choked breath muffling into my mouth as i begin to gently move my hand up and down. he struggles to kiss back, soft moans escaping from his lips and mixing into mine in the most delightful way possible as i pick up the pace.

"oh my god..." he trails off, his voice vibrating into the soft skin below my ear once his head falls just below it, my movements not slowing, the slight whines emitting from his mouth pushing me further, desperate to please him. the fast and sloppy kisses being placed onto my neck soon slow down, giving me the signal that he is close. he clutches onto my waist, his fingers running up and down whilst his legs slightly tremble, his release taking over as he lets out a loud groan, a string of curses following until he slips his boxers off, regaining his composure and climbing fully on top of me.

our faces are inches apart, my ragged breathing echoing my desperation to feel him inside me, because it has been so long since i have experienced the feeling, and it is like no other. his thumb runs along my lips, pulling the bottom one downward slowly and releasing it, before moving his head to the nape of my neck, placing slow and gentle kisses.

"you have no idea what i want to do to you schatz." he mutters against my skin, nipping at it gently, these words alone almost being enough to let go, to lose any remnant of composure i have and allow him to take me right there and then. his calloused hands reach for the large hoodie draped over my frame, pulling it over my head as i am almost completely naked, my underwear being the only barrier between us and exercising those silent promises of our love on the tips of our tongues.

"so perfect." he whispers, caressing my cheek lightly. pressing himself against me, his hand reaches to caress my now exposed breast, kissing and biting at any skin he can get access to, inaudible spews of satisfaction swallowing the silence surrounding us, my hands pushing his head further downwards ever so slightly, savouring the pleasure and wishing it would last forever. he slowly pulls away, maintaining eye contact as he reaches for my panties, swiftly tugging them downward and discarding them somewhere across the room, like the rest of our clothing.

skin to skin, the warm and bare air a mirror to our nakedness, we kiss with such hunger, such desire that our need for each other is palpable, so strong that i swear if i tried, i could feel it. because he is that love, his body living and breathing evidence that this love is real, not something that can only be felt inside, though the fire that his touch ignites within me is one that will burn forever, as long as he vows to supply the heat that is his affection. my hands clutch onto his back, his roaming my waist and pushing our hips into each other, ragged breaths echoing throughout the room as i find myself becoming too impatient. although part of me wants to savour this moment as it is our first special one in over a month, one part of me, the more irrational side, wants him to ruin me, wants him to claim me as his own and do whatever his heart desires. i am his to destroy, because if it means that i can be with him for eternity, then i am willing to do anything.

"tom…i need you." i whisper helplessly against his lips, no longer able to mask my hunger.

he places one final kiss to my lips, stroking my hair gently and positioning himself to my entrance. my eyes squeeze shut in anticipation, relishing this feeling and preparing for the intense pleasure that i have been so empty without.

“then i’m all yours.” he speaks softly, sliding into me slowly before i am able to repeat my desperate plea. because if i tried, i know that my speech would be inaudible, struggling to breathe at the feeling of him filling me up.

unaccustomed to his size, or any dick for the last month, i wince in pain before he is even halfway in, gripping his bicep and giving him the signal to stop. "wait a minute." i state breathlessly, biting down on my lip as he stops his motion, gently stroking my cheek with his palm and awaiting my permission to carry on. feeling him stretch my walls fills the hole within me, once hollow and empty, however the pain takes longer to subside, tom slowly biting and kissing the sensitive skin on my jaw whilst he waits.

"c’mon baby, you can take it." he mumbles against me, the raspiness within his voice vibrating up my spine, motivating me to tune out the pain and allow him to pleasure me. "okay." i whisper, pleasure soon starting to take over as he moves into me, stopping and throwing his head back as he bottoms out, his tip hitting my g-spot perfectly, this being enough for me to cry out, my screams echoing throughout the room, the air thick with passion. his eyes are screwed shut, sweat lining along his forehead, his breathing ragged and uneven, yet he only increases his stamina, picking my leg up and placing it over his shoulder.

the new angle sends me into euphoria, my vision turning white as i can do nothing but scream his name, my fingers raking down his back. he memorises the way he hits my g-spot, doing it over and over again, bringing me closer to my release, yet i can tell he is not there yet, prompting me to hold it so i can share my high with him.

"fuck me..." his voice trails off, his eyebrows furrowing as he savours the pleasure. my legs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer inwards, if that is physically possible. somehow he is still going, not showing any signs of lethargy. he is desperate to meet his release, hips snapping against mine with such intensity, his head buried in the crook of my neck, the incoherent groans escaping from his mouth fanning over the bare skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"tom i'm so close!" i moan, knowing that i will not last much longer. i do not know if it is the absence of sexual intimacy in my life recently, or my intense desire for him, but this time around, my ability to contain myself is long gone.

"i know baby, i know..." he sighs out, the feeling him twitching inside of me silently letting me know that he is almost there too. "just hold it for me." overstimulation soon takes over, the feeling of him moving in and out of me providing me with such overwhelming pleasure that my mouth gapes open, no sound escaping as i am utterly speechless, drunk on the sensation and a complete mess beneath him. i could cry at the feeling, on the verge of tears with each stroke, wondering how this moment is reality, seeming entirely too good to be true.

"okay baby, let go." he breathes out, his voice shaky as it is soon cut off with a choked moan, his load shooting into me as mine soon follows. i swear i can see stars, my eyes not able to stay still, my whole body the same as it trembles uncontrollably, tom’s slow and steady thrusts sending me into oblivion as he rides out our highs, his lips hovering over mine. "oh my god" is all he can say, still inside me, his mouth eventually moulding with mine, the kiss filled with so much energy despite the amount of stamina that was used just seconds before.

i am not done yet, my body feeling like it has just started as i have the motivation to go one thousands times over, addicted to the way he feels. "let me be on top." i mutter against his lips, the pillowy skin battling to try continue kissing me. in one swift motion, he flips us over, moving upwards so that his back is resting against the headboard, his hands placed steadily on my waist whilst i sit on top of him. i waste no time, hovering over him and sliding downwards, letting him fill me up and sighing loudly as i do, tom tightening his hold on me and muttering a slow ‘jesus christ’, his voice low, words as sweet as honey as they sound from the back of his throat.

pressing open mouthed kisses against my jaw, neck, collarbone, anywhere he is able to access, he groans out in pleasure, his hands remaining steadily on my hips whilst i easily maintain my rhythm. with a slight change in the movement of my hips, his tip presses against my g-spot, the friction causing me to cry out, him doing the same as his head falls backwards, eyes squeezing shut, savouring the ecstasy. my hands lay flat against his chest, watching it heave up and down with each unsteady breath he takes, his muscles flexing with each squeeze of my waist, this only encouraging me to go further, the sight of him being pleasured by me almost pushing me to my release alone.

the feeling so good i question whether i have reached heaven itself, though my actions won’t get me anywhere near, my mind wanders how i survived for so long without him, without his dick inside me, without his hands on mine - because right now he is my oxygen, my sole purpose. i can barely catch my breath, my legs shaking uncontrollably whilst my hips circle around his, feeling every inch of him inside of me. my body leans forward, skin to skin, as i bite down on his shoulder, becoming increasingly tired, however i am so desperate for my release that i continue my slow and lethargic movements.

tom is quick to pick up on my change in speed, grabbing my hips once again and angling himself correctly, before thrusting into me from below, the sudden pressure causing a throaty moan to escape from my swollen lips.

"fuck…missed this, missed you so much baby." he mutters, his whole body tensing for a second whilst he begins to twitch inside of me.

"i’m close." he groans, meeting my lips in a sloppy kiss before i can respond. i don’t even bother trying to hold it, instead allowing my release to take over me, my vision turning white as i cling onto tom’s shoulders, my head buried in the crook of his neck, crying out in pleasure as it is so intense i almost feel myself slip away. his release soon follows, mouth gaping open, eyebrows furrowing and sweat glistening his chiselled frame, outlining his muscle in the most attractive way possible. he still strokes in and out of me slowly, his hands wrapped around my small frame, no space between us. my breathing ragged, hair a mess and body trembling, i pull away from his shoulder to look into his eyes, pressing my forehead against his as i can do nothing but admire him.

“shit- i love you so much." he manages to breathe out, moving a few stray hairs from my face and planting a last kiss on my forehead, slowly pulling out of me, the loss of contact making me whine slightly as i cling onto him, afraid of losing him ever again.

"i love you too." i respond, certainty uttering from every word as i find myself more in love with him, the best sex we have ever had replaying over and over again in my memory, our naked bodies pressed together.

"i promise you, i never slept with anyone else. i never even kissed another girl. i couldn't, it wouldn't have been right, not when you were the only person on my mind." he speaks slowly yet firmly after a few seconds of peaceful silence, pulling my body further onto his as he rests his forehead against mine, stroking my hair gently.

i move my head upwards, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "why not? there's so many girls that you could've had. what was stopping you?" i ask, lacing my hand with his and beginning to play with his fingers, the skin soft and smooth.

"the fact that they weren't you." he responds, gently lifting my chin upwards with his pointer finger, tenderly running his thumb along my cheek. "i never got over you. i hope you know that."

deciding that actions speak louder than words in this instance, i place my lips on his, sealing our love with a sweet kiss as he instantly kisses back, laying downwards flat against the bed whilst i am still on top of him. i slowly pull away, my entire body aching, eyes fluttering shut as a tired yawn escapes from my mouth. tom reaches over to turn the lamp off, laying down beside me and opening his arms out, my head resting on his chest, his thumb running comfortingly up and down my arm. "goodnight meine liebe." he whispers, my throat sore from our rendezvous, so i place a quick kiss on his chest in response, my eyes falling shut as sleep takes me. our legs entangled, bodies together, heartbeats aligned, i feel him now more than ever. not just physically, but i feel him mentally, spiritually, our mind and being merged together as one.

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[sweeterhoni]

i hate it when my brain functions differently when i'm in class, also, a snippet of a wip that's based on this brainrot

non-idol au . childhood friend!jake x afab!reader . R18 MINORS DNI!

a/n: this is suggestive. this isn't like me but this.. phew i need to breathe before writing more

before reading more, this fic is mixed with a religious theme and i'm so sorry bc this might just be straight blasphemy 🙇‍♀️ .

jake never knew what changed, you stayed nearly the same so there wasn’t much to highlight on you. jake never paid attention to you, he grew up with you and maybe that was enough to justify his distance. but was it? or maybe that became his favorite excuse to use when people keep asking why the two of you weren’t stuck together.

but what made him come up with excuses? what made him distant? what changed? – these were all the questions that pondered his mind. jake doesn’t have any answers despite this ‘operation: stay away from y/n’ has been going on for months. he just knew he had to have his distance when he felt himself getting hard around you.

it wasn’t hard. thanking your faith and focus in your religion to an extent where he started to attend church services again, but you were there. you were always there, and maybe his quick glances to your direction were enough to satisfy the torture he’s been putting himself through. but did he really have to go out of his way to attend your services when sunday was his only free day?

jake was a star in your university. people drool over him, they devour him and he indulges in it. you once joked he almost acted too similar to an incubus who feeds off the sexual energy from people, and he laughed and rebutted with “maybe that’s why you never felt anything sexual? is it? because i’m a, quote on quote, incubus?”

and ever since that day, jake could never put you out of his mind. you were devouring him unknowingly.

﹉﹉﹉

it was a sunday.

jake suited up, wearing his white long sleeve polo shirt that perfectly hugged his broad shoulders. he tucked it in his grey slacks, defining the inverted triangle shape he hides under sportswear and his uniform. it always felt like a sin to show up to the church subtly flexing every woman’s dream but does he still have any shame? when his mind defines lust when you show up in your dress that reminds a nun. you were always picked to pray for any services, requiring you to wear the white dress and veil the ‘baby nuns’ wear.

seeing you in it, jake always wanted to start a religion. a religion where you praise him, and devote to him the same way you devote to christianity. it wasn’t like him at all to have these sudden urges that just revolve around you, his life was soccer and academics– but you were becoming a part of it if you won’t stop whatever this is.

he was an hour earlier, just in time to watch you pray.

he wanted to defile you right then and there when you kneeled, your eyes closed, and your head perfectly angled as if you were doing this for the entirety of your life. he struggle to sit properly when you show no struggles in kneeling upright with your head bowed, and with the way the veil only shows a bit of your well-kept hair, jake knew he had to keep himself from acting out the events playing in his head.

he wasn’t even praying, all he did was fantasize about you.

a half of an hour passed, and he watched when you rose with ease. jake had his eyes fixated on you, it mesmerized him when you didn’t wince from kneeling that long and oh did he want you kneeling before him. he ached to see you be obedient when it wasn’t for him.

he wanted to shrug off these thoughts, maybe the praises were getting to him, but maybe it’s just you when these same thoughts never occur towards anyone else. he sinned again. you were his childhood friend, both of you grew up following the same religion, you were too religious and it would physically hurt him if he continue to think of you in that light but it just felt right.

“jake?” thank god then for your calming voice who snapped him out of the trance. “yes?” he replied, masking the lust he now clearly feels for you, “are you alright?” he was. he was alright before all these thoughts come to him, now he wasn’t. he watched how your lips rested in a pout, waiting for his answer with furrowed brows that show worry “of course, why wouldn’t i be?”

jake realised how he might have looked when fixating on you, not an ounce of guilt in his body as he chased a high.

“your brows were furrowed, it looked as if they’ll be sewn together.” you spoke with worry laced in your voice, you watched as he drew in a sharp breath. you figured he was just worried for the captain tryouts next week, so you nodded in understanding “ah! nevermind, you might be too worried for next week’s tryouts, but i’ll cheer you on jakey!”

and there it is.

even if you never tainted dirt, you were sultry. the way you said his childhood nickname felt as if it was the last straw, he had to get out of there. he had to get away from you. so he shamelessly used it as an excuse to leave, leaving you a pat on the head– “you’re right, you were always so bright my dove! i have to go, there’s an unscheduled practice today, be a good girl. for me, okay?“ and oblivious to the second meaning, you nodded your head.

“i’ve always been a good girl, for you and for the church.”

that left him hanging. it was true that you were always good, you were the epitome of an angel. some even call you that when you turn your back, you were always good. you were too innocent.

and it drives him insane how you agree to everything he says. it drives him insane how easy you comply to him. jake just wanted you, and if he wanted– you would already be in his bed but it all felt wrong when he caught sight of the pastor the two of you grew up with.

“i’ll go then. i’ll see you on wednesday, and wear the jersey i gave you, alright? that can be your way of cheering me on.” of course it was just another excuse to drive people away from you. he wanted you to wear it as it acted like a silent agreement, albeit one-sided, that you were only his to devour.

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen #enhypen smut #jake x reader #jake sim #jake sim smut #jake smut

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐮𝐢 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 6.1k

chapter summary: you and joel take your relationship to the next level.

warnings: themes of grief and loneliness, hurt/comfort, fluff, body painting, joel being a very lousy nude model, oral (male receiving), heavy petting, fingering, shower sex, edging, dirty talking

a/n: aaaaand we're BACK-- the hiatus is officially over and I am so ready to focus on this series. I've missed them so much and I hope you guys all did too 💗 also special thanks to @undercoverpena for cheering me on while I was writing this, love you to the moon and back bby xx

Chapter Eleven || Chapter Thirteen

Loneliness had never been a stranger to you. You had your own brand of it, like a homemade fig preserve. Being so close with it, you’ve added something from yourself, and in return, it has branded your personality in such a way that it has become hard to think there was anything but. 

For the longest time that special brand of loneliness had been your closest friend. During adulthood, you noticed how tired you were of asking for people to be emotionally aware of your needs, your wants. You were tired of spelling it out for them. Your parents weren’t like you, neither was Auggie. No one around you was emotional like you were, so you learned to keep it locked tight in your heart. You cried at night. You smiled during the day. You felt off and weird when family members hugged you and wept on your shoulder, you dissociated. You’ve noticed this, especially at your grandfather’s funeral. He was gone and you hadn’t shed a tear among the dark black fabrics. 

Auggie knew you did this, but alas, it didn’t really matter. 

So when you found a family emotionally rich despite not having much, it came as a mild shock to you. Sarah didn’t have these issues. She didn’t care if she was emotional or not, or if what she said came off as needy. The only emotional constipation you noticed was between brothers, but even that didn’t stop them from addressing what they felt during an argument. 

You were no stranger to emotional outbursts. Reading a book and eyes welling before you could finish a sentence. 

Now, you feel less lonely thanks to Joel, Tommy, and Sarah, each filling a different gap in your withered soul. But even that doesn’t stop the old habit of sewing your mouth shut. 

You wake with a heavy weight on your chest. It’s still dark, the sky a dark shade of royal blue. It’s actually a beautiful night. However, your eyes are blind to it. Your skin is damp with sweat. If you saw a nightmare, you don’t remember what it was. You remember going to bed uncomfortable, Tommy’s sad eyes branded into your lids like tattoos you both want to and don’t want to get rid of. 

You gradually rise from the bed, the thin summer quilt sliding off your now cold body. You shudder. It had been a long time since you last felt this way. Empty and lonely. It always feels like you have to suffer through these emotions on your own, your need to smile through it more prominent than anything else. 

You smack your lips together, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You need water. Ice cold water. 

Going down the stairs you don’t think how dark it is, or how some particular shadows remind you of your childhood when you would wake up thanks to the jarring sound of mosquitos, looking for comfort downstairs where your grandparents were usually up. Fuck, your chest is even heavier now. The muscle in your chest more like a cannonball than heart. You’re hyper-aware of the way your chest rises and falls with every breath and quickly, you make your way to the kitchen. 

The light of the fridge momentarily blinds you but despite your burning irises you manage to wrap your fingers around the familiar handle of the old jug. You pour yourself a big glass and take small swallows.

A soft wind caresses the outer skeleton of the house. The shadows of leaves dance over the walls, again, a familiar sight that drags you back and makes you sick simultaneously. 

“You a’right there, sweetheart?” 

You jump at the sound of a voice deepened with sleep. Tommy is staring at you from the entrance, brows furrowed, the crease between them so much like his brother. Taking another small sip of water, you swallow and place the cold glass on the counter. 

“I’m fine,” you grit out, your voice leveled. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.” 

Before you know it, Tommy’s warm hands are on your face, cradling your cheeks. His thumbs move over your cheekbones, pressing and applying pressure over the bone. Your heart skips a beat. It takes you everything not to lean into his touch, to seek out that comfort only he could give. But you think of Joel, you think of him, and you stop yourself. If Tommy knew about you and Joel, if you were completely honest with him—an open book, you would’ve taken that comfort to yourself, not a worry in your heart but he doesn’t know and that alone makes your stomach clench with guilt. 

“You don’t look fine,” his hands slide down to your shoulders. “Was it a nightmare?” 

You blink heavily, your eyes locked on one another. Two broken people in a dark kitchen. It pains you that a nightmare is Tommy’s first guess. You wonder how many times he’d woken up to the faux scent of gunpowder and screams only to be comforted by the darkness of the ceiling. 

“Something like that. I. . sometimes forget that they’re gone,” your eyes drop to his chest. “And then I remember that no matter what, in the end, I’ll be lonely.” 

“Lonely?” he spits out the word, shocked, hurt and baffled. “What are you talkin’ about? You have Joel—You have me.” 

You know you do. You really do. But after years of going through it all alone, to see your friends have their own support systems and people to protect them, care for them, it’s hard to believe you’ve found your people. It’s hard to believe that years of solitude where you had to take care of yourself was over. Old habits die hard. Your heart shatters piece by piece. Your heart nothing but a heavy weight in your chest. You want to collapse, to scream, shout and cry. Salty tears sting the corner of your eyes. Suddenly you’re drowning in your past like it’s still your present, the thickness of it goes all the way up to your neck and you can’t breathe— 

“Hey—hey,” Tommy cups your cheeks, thumbs running down where tears would be but your skin is dry. “Come back to me, it’s a’right. I’ll always be with you, you know? Even if you move far away, I’ll always be a thorn in your ass.” 

You crack a smile and manage to nod, placing a hand over his own. You think a tear finally falls, maybe even two. You hate feeling like this. Hate it. Tommy doesn’t look convinced by your expression. 

“Do. . .do you want me to call Joel?” 

His words freeze you to the bone. Of course, he would ask that—Tommy Miller, always thoughtful, always putting others first. They both do. You even think to some extent Sarah does the same thing. All of them throwing themselves in front of a moving train in different ways. 

You don’t know if he’s noticed something. Or if he just thinks that Joel’s presence would be more soothing, since he’s used to relying on his older brother. 

Either way, you want him to know that he’s enough. 

And he’ll always be enough. 

You shake your head, “No,” he furrows his brows when you part your arms. “But I wouldn’t say no to a hug.” 

Strong arms sneak under your armpits and broad palms press against your back. Tommy pulls you incredibly close. Holds you indescribably tight. His scent fills your lungs. A bit of sweat mixed with a day-old deodorant. He smells nice. He always had. His skin is warm against your cheek and you smile widely this time but he doesn’t see. 

“Thank you, Tommy,” you whisper into the darkness. “I would be lost without you.” 

“Are you sure you’re a’right?” 

“Yes, Joel.” 

“Hundred percent sure?” 

“Yes, sir,” you declare, your gaze fixed on Joel as you peer from the side of the canvas for a better look. “Now stand still.” 

Joel grumbles something inaudible and straightens his neck, attempting to keep his limbs as still as possible. Your eyes rove across his broad shoulders, the expanse of his chest, you take in the shadows that appear between every sinewy muscle and think about how to convey it into your painting. You still haven’t dared to look further down. Looking down means that you’ll definitely be distracted. 

You sketch a couple of lines that vaguely resemble his shape. You’ve missed painting nudes and when you mentioned it to Joel, he was eager to accept without actually realizing he had to stay still for a generous amount of time. 

“You should’ve called,” he grumbles. “I would’ve come straight over.” 

“I know,” you sigh. “But it was late, and Tommy was there.” 

He doesn’t say anything but you can sense his displease. 

“He’s my friend, Joel,” you answer, observing the thick contour of his neck. “And your brother.” 

“I know that. I just don’t like the idea of not being there for you.” 

“Tell him then,” you say a bit harshly. He doesn’t seem affected by your shift in tone. Another line joins the others. “If it was anything serious I would’ve called, hell, I would’ve come to you but it wasn’t that serious. I was just in a. . . mood.” 

“Tommy sure don’t think so.” 

You don’t say anything and focus on drawing the rest of his torso, he clicks his tongue in frustration, “I hate when you do this, you know.” 

You raise your eyebrows, “Do what?” 

“Downgrade your problems. It’s okay if you’re still grievin’. It’s okay if there are some things you’re still workin’ out. I just don’t want you to think you’re alone, I can be your rock, sweetheart. I’d be happy to.” 

“You are my rock, Joel—and keep still.” He huffs and straightens again, your lips twitching into a smile. “I’ll try to open up more. Promise. I do feel really lucky I have you. And Sarah—and Tommy. Some nights I just wake up feeling bad. Yesterday was just a bit more intense.” Joel grunts in approval and you add. “Also hasn’t Tommy heard of the phrase ‘snitches get stitches’?” 

“He wasn’t snitchin’,” he pouts, you want to take his bottom lip between your fingers and kiss him. “I actually asked how he was doin’ but he quickly brushed it off and told me about you instead.” 

“Of course, he did.” 

He nods but still seems wound up like a toy. His head drops a bit, the click of your tongue reminding him to keep still. 

Your eyes trace the contours of Joel’s body. He’s an excellent specimen, everything about him so human, so raw. Every freckle, every crinkle you want to eternalize onto your canvas. He’s not looking at you anymore. Eyes glued to the legs of the easel. You still haven’t fully taken in the sight of him. Sometimes you’re truly afraid of how strongly you feel for him, how much you’d be willing to lay down just to be with him. 

Honestly, a pocket of time would be ideal. That way you could spend eternity in this peaceful moment, living in bliss. 

You place the pencil down and walk up to him. His gaze is drawn to your once more, “Sorry, sweet tea, did I move again?” 

“Maybe a bit,” you lie, standing an inch away from his naked body. You press your thumbs against his cheekbones then slide them down, feeling the roughness of hair tickling your skin. His eyes flutter shut momentarily, before opening again. 

You don’t say a word. Time is still around you and you believe if you try hard enough this can be your forever. You trace the outer lines of his lips, then trace the seam. His lips part, a bit of tongue showing in between—you touch that too, shallowly dipping one finger before moving on to his neck, “To draw is to feel,” you muster, the ball of your thumb grazing firmly over his Adam’s apple. “Will you let me feel you?” 

“‘Course,” he chokes out. “Whatever you need.” 

His words make your chest swell with affection. Joel’s words make you feel brave enough to allow your gaze to venture down. You press the flat of your palms over the swell of his stomach, something trembles within—life, you think, he’s so full of it. Your one hand dares to go lower, playing with the dark curls that lead to his soft cock. 

However, he doesn’t remain soft for long, it twitches and grows, the head gaining a reddish hue. 

Joel tilts his head, gradually leaning in to claim your lips with his own. He stops when your fingers bite into his bare hips, lodging into that delicate spot between bone and muscle, he swallows thickly, cock raising with attention. 

“Stay still,” you whisper. “And maybe I’ll reward you.” 

“Oh, we’re playing that game now?” he says with a crooked smile that makes your stomach twist delightfully. You only smile as your hand slides lower and lower, until you cup his semi-hard cock. His breath hitches. 

I love you like this, you want to say but remain silent. You stroke him slowly until he’s fully hard, the warm muscle throbbing in your palm, you press your lips against his neck, sucking on his skin until his hips jerk. 

“I’m not playing any games,” you mouth into his skin. “If you let me paint you, I’ll let you fuck my mouth. Does that sound like a fair deal?” 

Joel thrusts into your hand once more, groaning as you lick the vein that throbs under his skin, “I won’t lie, sweetheart, that might be hard if you keep your hand where it is.” He exhales a shaky breath, the warmth of it fanning your skin. “But sounds fair enough, I’ll try.” 

You press a quick kiss to the small patch within his beard and pull away before he can follow the heat of your lips. He’s as still as a statue when you get behind the canvas, but instead of resuming sketching the rough outline of his body, you grab two tubes of paint and a brush; though you have your doubts you’ll be using the tool, you’d much prefer to feel the heat of his skin softening the paint between your fingers. 

When you come back to him, confusion crosses his face. 

“I thought you were gonna be paintin’?” 

Your lips twitch into a sinister smile, “I am.” 

As cliche as it might sound, Joel has always reminded you of a deep, rich shade of red—the color of blood—but he also reminds you of an earthy purple, the type of shade that makes you want to bury your fingers in it as if you might actually feel the earth itself.  

You shake two tubes of paint in front of his eyes. He’s still confused, yet remains still. You pop the red paint open first, squeezing a generous amount over his shoulder. You watch it trickle down, drops of crimson staining his torso, the color so deep that it looks too real. Your heart jumping, you quickly smear it down his chest and all the way to his stomach. Just like you predicted, the brush is forgotten, slipping from your fingers and onto the carpeted floor. Joel shudders, his breath caught in his throat, you see him clench his jaw. 

“Darlin’. . .” he rasps, voice full of gravel, and your hand stops where it follows the V of his lower abdomen.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” he answers quickly, breathily. “Don’t ever stop touching me. Don’t ever stop looking at me like that—like I’m the most valuable thing you have. Like I’m worth a damn.” 

“You are.” 

Slowly, your fingertip traces an invisible path upward, leaving a trail of red paint in its wake. Joel shudders and gulps loudly. You draw meaningless shapes, circle where his tattoo is, and draw shapes of ancient alphabets you vaguely remember from when you read a book about the Late Bronze Age. Joel shudders, twitches, and tenses under your touch but never actually moves, keeping his stance. 

After the red pigment is nothing more but a fading shade of pink, you pour some purple paint into your palm and apply it directly. You press your hand directly above his heart, leaving your handprint over it before moving to his back, “Fuck,” he groans. 

Looking down, you notice him clenching his buttocks and slightly swaying forward, you smile, his cock must be dripping. You can’t wait to take him in your mouth, for him to use you however he pleases. You need him to be desperate when he takes you, sliding his length down your throat as he berates you for taunting him with sinful touches in the guise of making art. 

You press your hands together and smear the remnants of red with the purple, the fresh paint overwhelming the other. When both hands are fully coated, your cup both his ass cheeks, sliding your hands up, you kiss the taut skin between his shoulder blades. You leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses all the way to his neck and lick the sensitive spot behind his earlobe. 

“I’d wrap my hand around your cock but I’m afraid the paint isn’t edible so you wouldn’t be able to fuck my mouth,” you tease. “Tell me what you want to do to me, Joel?” 

He groans, “Keep this up and you’ll find out, sweetheart. I’m not a patient man, you should know.” 

“But isn’t the wait fun?” you challenge, your hands sliding up to his front, right above his pelvis. “The taste of sex on your tongue, the way your cock throbs with the thought of my warm cunt tight around it? Don’t you feel that tingle. . .” you gradually lower yourself, dragging your tongue down his spine, a choked out sound rips from his throat, “going down your spine, reminding you of how good it’s finally going to feel when you push down my throat, cutting my airflow and taking me however you want?” 

Joel breathes heavily, his stomach clenching with every whispered word, “Darlin’, please.” 

“Turn around.” 

You look up as he does, you gently take his hand and place it on your cheek, your heart dissolving into something thick and sweet like honey when his thumb strokes your skin. His gaze grows soft, the arousal in them dimming, splitting away like waves to show the emotion. 

“Your knees are gonna hurt,” he says, voice dropping. 

He’s right, they are going to hurt. “I don’t care.” 

You lower both hands to your lap, obediently parting your lips, sticking your tongue out. Joel wraps a hand around his cock and jerks himself until he’s fully hard, he holds you by the hair and drags you closer. 

“You want me to fuck that pretty mouth?” 

“Please,” you repeat his own plea from earlier. 

The heft of his cock on your tongue almost feels like a blessing from above. Your eyes flutter shut. Joel slides himself torturously slow, inch by inch, as he fills your mouth, your lips stretching wide to accommodate his width. He moves down your throat, awakening your gag reflex, you hold it down, choking around his cock. 

“Fuuuuuck, that feels good,” he groans, throwing his head back. With shallow thrusts, he works your throat open. Your one hand slides between your thighs as the other braces against Joel’s thick thigh. Right now, you’re relieved you’re wearing your favorite flannel pajama shorts instead of something uncomfortable like jeans. “That’s it, touch yourself, sweetheart. I want you to come while I’m fuckin’ your throat.” You whine filthily at his words, pressing your fingers between your clothed folds, you stroke your aching clit. Joel doesn’t stop running his mouth. “You must be soaked down there, poor thing.” 

Tears sting the corner of your eyes and you manage to slip your fingers down your shorts. His thrusts become rougher, sliding all the way out before fucking himself even deeper into your mouth, down your throat. You swallow helplessly around him and the groan that slips from between his lips forces the clench of your cunt, you breathe heavily through your nose and draw vicious circles around your clit. 

“Look at you—you like me fuckin’ your mouth, honey?” You nod, his lips curling in the most devastating way. “You gonna come while rubbing that pretty pussy of yours?” 

You nod again, this time accompanied by a moan. The reverberations of the sound trembles against his sensitive cock and he rocks into your mouth harder—this time tears do slip past your fluttering lashes. You can’t breathe, your vision is blurry, yet this is everything you’ve ever wanted. Your heart feels so full, so content. He fucks every thought out of your head, overwhelming your senses.  

“Shit, shit, shit—Don’t look like that, sweetheart, don’t cry, if you do I—I’ll—” Spit trickles down the corner of your lips, everything a wet, sopping mess. With every thrust, he manages to go down your throat, his mouth constantly muttering words you can barely hear. More tears flow freely down your cheeks, mixing with the saliva and precome going down your neck. His hips move in a constant stammering motion, balls heavy on your chin as he snaps shallowly into your throat without pulling back. 

You look up to him. Your eyes shining and glimmering, Joel meets your gaze, his eyes going wide, hips stilling—

He spills down your throat, hard. 

You swallow, swallow, and swallow, gulping everything that he gives. But it’s still not enough, there’s too much, some of it spilling from the sides from where his cock stretches your lips. Your body jerks, your fingers move slowly around your clit and you press harder, your feel the warm slick dripping down your fingers, making a mess of the rug underneath. 

“Sorry, sorry—” Joel mutters over and over again almost like a chant. His voice hoarse as his chest raises with quick shallow breaths. He then lets out a deep exhale, his cock throbbing in your mouth as he pulls out. “I wanted to last longer.” 

You kiss the tip of his spent cock, “Come here,” you mumble and he quickly drops down, you take his hand, pulling it between your legs. His eyes snap to yours, pupils eating away the color as he presses two fingers into your soaked cunt. Your eyes roll and your hips immediately grind down. “I came too. I came from you fucking my mouth, Joel. That’s how good it felt. You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Fuck, you’re really makin’ it hard to stay soft darlin’.” You smile as you cup his flaccid cock, feeling the weight of it in your palm, he hisses. “You’re gonna pay for teasin’ me, neighbor. ‘Should take you on my fuckin’ knee as punishment.” 

A fresh gush of wetness spreads around his fingers, “I think I would like that,” you say, kissing his neck. “But now I think I should actually finish sketching you for my painting.” 

“I don’t think I have much strength left in my legs,” he says with a chuckle. 

“Who said anything about standing?” you stand up, taking him with you. “I’m going to paint something else and for that, I want you on the bed.” 

You hadn't realized how much paint you managed to cover yourself in when you were pouring purple and red down Joel's shoulders.

He actually managed quite well when you asked him to lay on the bed instead of standing, and you’re fairly certain he dozed off for a moment or two. You didn’t mind. You loved how the painting had ended up, a sensual silhouette of a working man sleeping with sun cascading down his skin. 

“Surprise surprise, pourin’ paint on me got you dirty too,” Joel coos playfully, following you into the dimly lit bathroom. He stuffs your bedsheets into the washing machine, your eyes catch the smear of red and purple paint. “Want us to take a shower beautiful? We still have time until Sarah comes back from school.” 

“Someone’s cheerful now that they’ve taken their nap.” Joel holds you by the waist and pulls you close, unlike him, you’re still fully clothed—dirty, but clothed. His cock presses against the swell of your stomach. 

“I’m mighty tired of bein’ the only one bearin’ my naked ass,” he tugs off your shirt, the motion so quick that your protest dissolves on your tongue before it can materialize. “Also you owe me a nice back scrub with all those fancy soaps you have.” 

“I thought I paid my depth when you came down my throat.” 

“I don’t recall sayin’ exactly how much you owed me for this.” 

Your lips split into a grin. Without moving away, you bend over and slip out of your shorts, throwing them towards the washing machine. The flickering lustful specks in his eyes make your heart jump, they look like gold. Despite coming down your throat about forty minutes ago, he still wants you. He’s not tired of spending time with you, talking to you, humoring you in your endeavors— he’s not even mildly annoyed, which is something you thought everyone would feel eventually if they spent enough time with you. It was only a matter of when. 

You suddenly slap your palms softly against his cheeks, cradling his scruffy cheeks. His eyes rip away from your naked body to meet your gaze. You take in a slow breath. And out. Your heart rams painfully within your chest. Joel’s eyes widen slightly as he takes in your expression, observing you slowly as if he’s tasting what you’re feeling like aged wine. His fingers slither around your wrist and sliver down your forearms. 

“Darlin’?” 

“I love you, Joel.” 

His lips part, not with surprise, but with relief. You’re smiling giddily now, not a feeling of worry in your bones, just happiness, eagerness. You don’t care if it’s too early. Too late. It’s what you feel. And all you feel is love love love. 

“I love you too, Tea.” 

Joel brings your palm to his lips and kisses the curve of it slowly, he moves up to the middle, his mustache tickling you when he lays another kiss, “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

You close the distance, slanting your lips together, you drink him. His lips move to the beat of the moment, tickling down tenderly and smoothly like molasses. Joel’s tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open up for him. He tastes you quickly before pulling back. He exhales deeply, his breath fanning your swollen lips. 

“Let’s get cleaned up.” 

You grin, raising an eyebrow, “So you can get me dirty again?” 

“Somethin’ like that,” he huffs. 

Joel leads you to the tub, acting as if you’re his guest and not the other way around. He turns on the shower, allows the water to run down his fingers until the temperature is just right, and then carefully helps you step in. You moan happily at the way warm water moves down your skin, softening your body and chipping away at the paint. Joel stands right behind you. You want to turn around, clean him of the colorful mess, but he doesn’t budge. His hands touch your shoulders, then skims down. 

“You first,” he murmurs, fingers washing away the paint. You lean back. His hands follow a trail to your front, kneading your breasts. 

“I don’t have any paint there,” you hum. 

“My bad, these eyes aren’t what they used to be.” 

He gives them another squeeze before going lower and lower. . .  until he’s pushing his hand between your pressed tighs. You laugh, “I definitely don’t have any paint there.” 

His teeth suddenly sink into your shoulder. The blossoming pain makes you gasp and your body reacts by bending over, rolling your hips towards him. With a soft growl, Joel grips your hips and pushes you up against the glass panel. You moan with your breasts pressing firmly against the glass, the constant shower of water making you slip. 

Joel’s lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck you with my fingers,” he rasps. “Want you to come all around them, sweetheart.” 

Your body flushes from the inside out, “What if I can’t?” 

“You don’t have a choice,” he pushes forward, notching his cock between your folds, you whimper. “If you want me to fuck you with this cock, you better show me how desperate you are for it by makin’ a mess, honey.” 

When you don’t answer he grips your neck and forces your head back, he kisses your forehead, “Are you gonna be good for me?” 

Your stomach bottoms out, “Y—Yes, I’ll be good.” 

He kisses your forehead once more before releasing you. You fall forward with a whimper, bracing your hands against the slippery panels. Joel slides two fingers inside of you with embarrassing ease, “You like it when I’m rough,” he states, thrusting the digits in and out. You nod. “I love you,” he then says, catching you but surprise. You clench around his fingers and he chuckles darkly. “God, you’re gonna make me go insane—I love you—” 

You clench again, a loud moan dropping from your lips. The sounds you make are drowned by the water, yet he can hear you crystal clear. Your body reacts viscerally to his words, a flame that won’t ever go out burning wild in your gut—between your legs. He whispered the words into your skin, into your mouth, against your tongue. You push against his fingers, urging him to go deeper. He does. He holds you by the neck while fucking you with thick fingers, you cry out his name, whimpering those three little words that make him go inside just as much as it does to you. 

“Come for me,” he grunts. “Come for me so I can fuck you for real.” 

“J–Joel, fuck—” 

Your back arches, your orgasm rips from you, he takes it. It’s violent, earth shattering. 

Your jaw drops as he squeezes your throat lightly, the pressure adding to the intensity. You can vaguely hear him muttering ‘That’s it’ over and over, but you can barely hear the rasp of his voice. 

Joel kisses your cheek, drags his lips down your neck, “How’re you feelin’?” 

“Good. . . great actually.” 

Pulling out his fingers, he pushes them between your lips, you lap at them hungrily. While you’re busy devouring your own taste, Joel buries himself deep in your cunt. You whimper around his fingers, brows furrowing with pleasure. He pulls the digits out and grips your chin. His chest heaves as he pulls almost all the way out before snapping forward again, burying himself into the tight warmth of your pussy. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles, rocking back and forth. With every thrust, your lungs convulse. You desperately grip his forearm, but your fingers slip thanks to the water droplets that surround his skin, him letting out a sudden chuckle before pulling you towards his mouth. “Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t think I’m gonna last long now either. You make me feel like a teenager again.” 

Throwing your arm back, you tug the damp locks and force your lips together. You lick hungrily into his mouth. Joel moans loudly and you swallow every little sound he makes, your cunt fluttering and clamping around his length. He pounds into you sloppily, no coordination, no calculation—just need. 

To be wanted. To be devoured. What a wonderful feeling it was.  

Joel pulls out with a grunt, you hear the slick sounds of his fist as he jerks himself over the curve of your spine. You shudder when you feel it. Warm spend trickling down your skin, mixing with the water. He spreads your ass cheeks and pushes them together with his cock between them, he grinds once—twice, before heaving and dropping his head between your shoulder blades. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, but you hear no regret behind the apology. It makes you glad. 

“Don’t be,” you turn and pick up the shower head, holding it right over his shoulders, you wipe the remaining paint away. Your stomach growls in protest, your lips twitch into a crooked smile. “God, all that worked an appetite. I’m starving.” 

“Want me to cook you somethin’?” 

Spraying the water over his other shoulder, you meet his gaze. He’s so sweet like this. His hair wet, curling at the ends. His body finally relaxed. You can’t help yourself and quickly press your lips into the corner of his jaw. 

“I have a watermelon in the fridge, you can cut that up for me.” 

“‘Course, darlin’. Anythin’ for you.” 

Crickets chirp loudly. The wind pleasant, yet a bit too warm for your liking. You fan yourself with a hand as you lean back into the chair. Despite just taking a shower, you’re nearly dry. Summer is definitely not a good season for you. 

“Should I be offended you look so miserable right now?” Joel asks, sitting next to you. He bites into one of the watermelon slices and when a drop of sweet nectar escapes, he makes quick work of licking himself clean. You swallow, your insides pulsing. 

“No,” you sigh. “I just don’t like the heat very much.” 

“Well. . that might be a problem considering summer is basically here.” 

You groan and throw your head back, “Don’t remind me.” 

“Here,” he says, extending you a slice. “Eat.” 

You take the slice without objection, biting into the fleshy fruit. The cold juice of the watermelon feels good as it goes down your throat. You look over to the lawn, thanks to the heat most things have dried out. 

“I helped him a lot you know,” Joel says, his voice soft, as if afraid to spook you. “With the garden that is. He talked a lot about you.” 

“Did he now?” you muse, you chew the watermelon thoughtfully. Your eyes are glued to one of the butterflies in search of a flower. “I miss him.” 

“I know you do, sweetheart. I know. I wish I could ease your paint, but truthfully I have no idea how to do that.” 

“You do enough,” smiling, you turn to him and find that he’s already looking at you. “The silver lining is that I met you.” 

He parts his lips, eyes glossed over with emotion but before he can, both of you hear small steps approaching at the same time. 

“Oh, watermelon,” Sarah chirps, throwing her backpack to the floor. “Don’t mind if I do.” 

She takes a slice and sits down, eyes flitting between you and Joel. You try not to look at Joel then, your heart beating a bit too loudly for your liking. Sarah raises an eyebrow and locks her eyes with Joel, their expressions are similar when they’re about to wreak havoc. 

“What?” Joel snaps, angrily sinking his teeth into his watermelon, finishing it off. Both you and Sarah laugh, your heart feeling a bit lighter now. 

“Oh, nothin’,” Sarah rolls her tongue, mimicking her dad. “What have you two been up to?” 

“Your dad was helping me with the kitchen sink,” you answer quickly. “It’s been leaking all morning.” 

“If my dad is good at anything, it’s fixing stuff.” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Joel grumbles. 

“How was school?” you ask. 

Sarah’s shoulders fall a bit, but she quickly shakes it off and smiles, “It was good, nothing interesting happened.” 

You raise an eyebrow but don’t pry. Joel doesn’t seem to notice Sarah’s mood change. “We should better head off,” he says.

“But I’m still eating,” Sarah whines. “Can’t we stay a bit longer?” 

“We don’t wanna overstay our welcome.” 

You almost laugh at such an absurd thing. Him, overstaying his welcome? Never. But you also understand why he does it. Sarah is smart and by the looks she was giving you and him, she’s probably already suspicious. 

“You guys should take half of it,” you say, standing up. “I’m only one person anyway. If I eat this much watermelon I’ll end up growing one inside of me.” 

Both of them look at you deadpanned, you laugh, “You both have no humor!” 

Sarah turns to Joel, “Dad, I think you might wanna check if her water is laced with something.” 

“I think you’re right, baby girl,” Joel nods seriously. “There’s no other reason she would find that funny.” 

“If you guys keep that up I’m not giving you squat.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” they say at the same time. 

You shake your head, snorting at the father and daughter duo. Both of them were ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. 

However, you can’t seem to stop smiling as you head inside to get them a container to put the slices into. 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #joel miller smut #stay in bed series #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #scheduled

[celestialtarot11]

Synastry that was difficult + my two cents 🌙💌

Hi friends! I decided to make a different post about synastry I felt was uncomfortable, but of course I want to offer an in depth discussion of it. Feel free to like, comment and reblog 💖

Venus in the 8th house 🌷🍵- With this synastry I felt intertwined and connected on a soul level. But the transformation started, as known with the 8th house it has the ability to transform wounds that need healing. Alchemy, essentially. Transmuting energies. I’ve noticed whilst this synastry can create an everlasting bond, it is tested a lot. Whether that’s through influence from third parties (family, friends, exes) or the two in the connection go through mental challenges. There’s a theme of outsiders wanting to get into the connection. When we weren’t able to heal and come together properly it ended in separation, or no contact. However long we needed. But when we did return, we returned wiser and resilient. We shared 12h synastry as well, denoting physical distance, and soon that turned to be an issue with developing the connection into reality. Things took a left turn when it couldn’t develop properly, and it ended in jealousy, competition and ego on their end. Whilst this synastry created an amazing bond, I wouldn’t prefer to revisit it.

12 house moon/sun 🧘‍♀️🤍- Disclaimer, sun/moon and 12h synastry is widely misunderstood, so I will say, any 12h synastry you have is a soul connection requiring inner work. And not necessarily a connection where there is fantasy, and dream-like experience, although part of it is, it encompasses facing reality on a deeper level and yourself. The person you are dealing with is a reflection of who you are at the time, reflecting wounds and patterns to you. Married couples do have this yes, and it most of the time it took constant inner work to develop the connection.

But this synastry often was difficult, because it introduced wounds and patterns hidden in my subconscious. Many others with this synastry feel tested, because they are meeting themselves in another person. I’ve had this synastry multiple times, the person involved was hard to get to know due to walls being up, and guarding. But it taught me I did as well. It was the start to me understanding where I was rejecting myself. The sun person is elusive, escapist just as much as moon synastry. And has a tendency to play it nonchalant, and underestimate their feelings in the connection.

Moon conj. Chiron synastry 🍵💘- Another tough one, it produced a lot of healing. Chiron is the wounded healer and in the connection taught me the process to liberation. And to understand the journey of healing is never truly over. It’s easy to project unhealed wounds on the moon person, especially if there is a lack of awareness. Easily, the connection can remodel the past if both people don’t consistently work on themselves. The moon person can also struggle to speak up and find their voice, and because of their past can ghost the connection, because they are avoiding healing.

12th house mercury 🪷✨- The mercury person tends to go silent, avoids and represses communication due to fear. On the receiving end it’s taught me to set boundaries and give myself closure, instead of waiting for the other party. Communication is hard for the mercury person, but when they are able to work on that, communication is deep, connecting, and revitalizing. Communication becomes easier over time. Lots of visions are shared between the two, and dreams. If anything its funny how its easy for them to talk to me in my dreams, in reality its different

Pluto in the 10th house 🌟🤍- The house person can easily think the pluto person is intimidating, scary and hard to approach. When in the early stages of a relationship/friendship, it’s easy to idolize the other because of projections. It can feel like one is better than the other, and lead to competition or one upping. Or avoidance, insecurity and self doubt. Projections have to be understood as to why they are coming up. Its easy to think the pluto person is “bad” or “wrong” when the house person is dealing with insecurity.

Thank ya’ll for reading 💗🌟 I hope this resonated! Feel free to comment like and reblog 🤍

Paid Readings 🌟💗

#devi post #astrology community #astrology #tarotcommunity #divination #tarot deck #tarot #witchcraft #tarot reading #astrology observations #astro posts #astrology notes #astro notes

[moonydustx]

The Night of Confessions.

masterlist | requests

Summary: After finding the ship's crew member who was invading the kitchen at night, Sanji and the reader become friends. What can please a cook to thank for the good friendship?

Warnings: lots of flashbacks (all in italic), takes place a few weeks after part 1. reader with some insecure thoughts. a hint of a sad reader, fluff in general. sorry for possible errors, story not proofread.

WC: 3.3k

Pairing: Sanji x F!Reader (more thought of as OPLA!Sanji, but I've been loving the anime, so feel free with your choice).

A/N: A total of zero people asked and I still did it! In fact, I had thought of 3 parts for the story (the last one would be a smut that I'm still really thinking about, since I have an idea for the same theme for Zoro). That's it, I hope you like it and who knows, maybe I'll come back with more of this soon.

Read part 1 here

Before you even opened your eyes, your hands involuntarily searched for something on the other side of the bed, unfortunately finding only the unoccupied sheet.

"Good morning, Miss." Sanji's voice reached your ears before you could even open your eyes. "

Good morning. Wait, is it daytime?"

"Yes. I believe someone managed to sleep well tonight, no nightmares." he turned towards you. Even though you were drowsy, you leaned on one of your elbows, getting closer to him.

"Yeah, I believe so." You didn't know where your eyes would go, to the disheveled blonde locks, to the almost shy smile or the clear eyes that stared at you.

You could see his eyes looking at you too, but neither of you took the right action. At least the attitude you expected. Sanji could feel your breath on his face, your eyes shone when you looked into his, enough for him to come to his senses and move away.

"I-I..." he stood up, adjusting his shirt. "My dear, I will prepare breakfast and as soon as it is ready, I will call you." he headed towards the door.

"Sanji?"

"Yes mon amour."

"Thanks."

You were unused to sleeping alone, at least compared to before. Not that you would accept any company in your room.

It was just a few nights that he spent in your company. With each one, you discovered a new thing in common.

It was difficult to understand what you felt, it was strange. It was as if all the breezes coming from the sea surrounded your stomach, or even as if it didn't matter that they were still far from the Grand Line. It was okay to take longer to achieve your goals, as long as you stayed with your crew, everything was okay. What you didn't expect was the distance.

Damn, damn distance. Little by little you noticed him moving away from you. He wouldn't leave you alone, ever, but something was slowly cooling down and that was much more intriguing than anything else the other seas could bring to you.

Even though you weren't ready to face the day, you stood up and walked to the kitchen, finding the person responsible for so many doubts in your mind. How could a damned cook leave you lost like that? Had you asked too much of his help? Or had he simply gotten tired of being your friend? What was that strange feeling again? Damn, this wasn't the time to think about that.

"Good morning Ji." Your voice caught his attention, and he smiled in your direction.

"Good morning darling. I hope you slept well." you sat in front of him, watching him cut some fruit. An idea, perhaps not the smartest, crossed your mind.

"Too much. And you?"

"Good." He remained silent for a few seconds, focused on something that looked like just a simple apple.

"Finally fell out of bed." Zoro walked past you, sitting next to you and grabbing some breakfast.

"Look who's talking, you're a walking mummy. You're constantly bandaged up and sleep everywhere." you retorted, laughing at his face.

"Let's see if you say that later." Zoro's words immediately reached Sanji, who no longer insisted on pretending not to be listening to the conversation.

"Let's see who lasts longer, cucumber head. Don't forget my order." you lightly elbowed the swordsman, who just grunted. "You promised!"

"Why don't you take it yourself? I was thinking about spending some time on other things."

"I don't think I'm going to disembark today. I'm not feeling very well." As soon as the words left your lips, Sanji's attention became all yours.

"Is there anything I can help with, ma'am?"

"No, no Sanji. Women's problems."

"One more reason for me to win today!" Zoro returned the elbow, this time making you groan. Before Sanji could curse him for the measly push, he had already left you alone.

"Maybe I can make some tea, get something ready. All you have to do is tell me, darling."

"Don't worry about it. I'll rest a little longer." You left, leaving him alone, watching you and questioning why you refused help.

You just couldn't say it was part of your plan. As they were already used to, whenever they anchored in a town or city, they would spend a day exploring the nearest areas and return to the boat at dusk - if they weren't lost in a bar - to decide whether to stay longer in the place.

You waited until you were sure everyone had left the boat to put your plan into action. Would it be a good idea to cook to please a chef? Maybe not, but it would be worth a try. At least, you already understood a little of the recipe you needed to make.

"You won't eat cold lunch food again." once again, you were scared by Sanji's presence in the kitchen. He soon stood next to you, taking the plate. "What do you want?"

"To cook!"

"Now I'm surprised. The night's sneaking out for a snack really inspired you. What are we going to do then?"

"How about some pasta?" you suggested, already eager for the answer. "I know this isn't the best time to eat this, but..."

"If it's pasta my girl wants, we'll make pasta. What will we need?" He left it up to you to respond, laughing loudly when he noticed your confusion. "You really don't do well in the kitchen, do you? I'm glad I'm here."

Flour, eggs, salt. Okay, the first ingredients were easy. Maybe it was too early to start the recipe, but you didn't want to run the risk of him arriving early and catching you in the kitchen.

It took hours for you to get the right doneness, but the pasta strands looked perfect, now all that was left to do was cook it and add it to the sauce, which you had a vague idea of ​​what to do.

"How much longer do we have to wait?" you indicated to the pan full of water.

"Until it boils." Sanji warned, adding generous spoonfuls of salt to the water.

"Wouldn't it be too salty?"

"No, honey. When we make this kind of pasta, the water needs to be hot as hell and salty as the sea." he took a spoon and poured in some of the liquid, blowing gently as the smoke dissipated. "Try it."

His laughter upon seeing your disapproving face filled the entire ship and certainly must have disturbed the other crew members who were sleeping there.

"Hot as hell, salty as the sea. Got it."

"I knew someone sweet like you would hate this, but in the end, the recipe will be delicious. Someday, I'll make the seafood version, you'll love it, it's my favorite."

Tomatoes, shrimps and tuna. It was enough to make the sauce. You didn't want to invent much more than you knew how to do and even so, you were already feeling afraid of what might come out of it.

The day was already ending when you finished making the dish. Pasta with seafood sauce. Probably a much simpler version of what the crew cook would make. You arranged some cutlery on the table, prepared a juice with tangerines and tried to get as many things ready as possible.

"What are you doing?" the scream that came out of your throat was almost involuntary when you heard Nami.

"What, are you guys back already?"

"Just me for now." she explained, coming around the table. "Who did all this?"

"Not the official cook."

"Weren't you feeling bad?" She laughed when she saw you disconcerted. "I knew it was a lie. You asked me for help with that two weeks ago, remember?"

"Okay, maybe I was just trying to get the boys off my back."

"What I don't understand is that we already have a cook..." she put her hand on her chin, analyzing you "Do you want to take his place..."

"Never! I love Sanji's cooking!" you responded almost immediately, leaving her euphoric with the conclusion.

"I knew it! You want to impress him. You like him! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, more money for me."

"What do you mean Nami?"

"You didn't deny it, so I'm right." trying to leave the topic of money aside, she turned you around, pushing you towards your room. "And for that, you'd better take off your soaked clothes. Get ready, I'll cover you if any of them show up."

Before you could question anything, Nami was already leading you into the room. And she was almost right, in every proposition. Firstly, you didn't just want to impress Sanji, you wanted to thank him for the time he spent being a great friend and maybe make it up to him for you upsetting him so much the last few weeks. And second, you didn't just need to change, you would need a shower to remove all the shrimp smell from your body.

With a speed you didn't yet know, you managed to do everything. Take a shower, fix your hair and choose your favorite outfit. You were ready, which made you even more nervous.

As soon as you left your room, you could see Nami breathe a sigh of relief, at the same time as the other crew members rushed into the kitchen.

"Finally. I thought I was going to need to yank you away from the door." Zoro was the first to enter, soon followed by Luffy and Usopp.

"What's that smell? Sanji, did you leave a feast ready for us?" Luffy already went straight to the table, earning a slap from Nami. "I'm hungry."

"With that smell, it's impossible not to be." Usopp added, getting slapped as well.

"Everyone eat together." she warned.

"What does it smell like..." Sanji was the last to enter, finding the table set. "What is that?"

"Well, um." you took the lead, feeling your legs tremble. Your eyes were lost in Sanji's "You've been... I mean, you've all been great friends. I wanted to prepare some delicious food for us."

"But Sanji already does that." Luffy spoke and you knew it was in the best interests, which made you laugh when you saw Nami's face at him.

"I know, I just wanted to maybe surprise you with something different."

"Then let's fill our bellies, because later I intend to fill myself with drink." Zoro settled down, picking up one of the plates. "And if it turns out good, your drink is on me today."

"Oh, of course." you replied and despite smiling, you were focused on something else.

Sanji was still standing at the door, observing the table and almost without meaning to, his gaze crossed yours. You could see them glow from afar and at the same time, you could feel your stomach churn with anticipation to know if he had liked the little surprise.

Everyone sat down to dinner and from what you heard, you were satisfied with the food and eager to tell you everything you had seen in the village. Except Sanji. He seemed intent on eating from his plate, savoring every bite.

"It was incredible!" Luffy said, finishing turning the plate into his mouth "It's good to know that we have someone who knows how to cook besides Sanji."

"Best food I've ever tasted." Zoro said and it didn't take much for you to know that he was just saying that to provoke the other cook.

"You never said that about my dishes!" Sanji's grumble made everyone at the table laugh, including you, partly because of the comment, but mainly because he had finally said something.

"You've never done anything good like this. I think now you can go back to being a waiter."

"Both foods are amazing, maybe you'll work well together." the malicious tone didn't go unnoticed in Usopp's words, making your face burn with embarrassment.

Before you could find words to respond, Nami noticed your little desperation and stood up.

"Belly full, time for Zoro to buy our drinks."

"It wasn't you I promised. Let me go, woman!" he grunted as Nami pulled him to his feet.

"We go ahead and they find us later." she suggested, hoping everyone would understand who should remain on the boat.

"But I'm still hungry." Luffy complained and one look from Nami was enough for him to stand up. "Okay, I'll go with you, but I better have some snacks."

"I'll stay here, help our cook organize things and we'll meet you there." Sanji spoke, causing Usopp to also get up and follow the three others.

As they left, you took the opportunity to start taking the dishes off the table and as soon as they were alone, you saw Sanji leave the kitchen. The anxiety that maybe you had been too clingy gnawed at you.

"Have you seen Sanji?" you asked Nami, who seemed distracted doodling something.

"Nah, he's probably stuck in the kitchen, inventing something."

You hurried along, playing cards dancing between your fingers until you found Luffy attacking the fridge. "

Ah, hi! I was just checking to make sure everything was ok here." He spoke with a mouth full of meat, making you laugh.

"Have you seen Sanji?" "It must be in his room. If you can, please don't tell him what you just saw." he smiled, amidst the pile of food.

"Leave it captain."

You went to his room, gaining the courage to knock on the door three times and hear a "Come in" from inside.

"Excuse me." you hung your body inside the room. "Everything is fine?"

"Of course, miss. Is there anything you need?"

"I wanted to know if you wanted to play cards with me. I almost didn't see you today." you proposed excitedly, a feeling that didn't last long.

"I'm sorry, I think I'd rather be alone for a bit."

After that, the late-night cooking trips stopped, and he seemed to flirt less with you, which gave you less space to respond. Maybe you were a very clingy friend, and maybe Sanji didn't like that.

The water ran while you stood still, immersed in your thoughts. What you didn't expect was to feel two arms around your body, turning off the tap and pulling your arms away from the sink.

"Leave it, mon cher." He turned to you and with some gentleness, took off the apron you had just put on. "You already made dinner, I'll take care of it later."

"Did you like it?" The words left your lips involuntarily, leaving you disconcerted under his gaze.

"Pasta with seafood sauce?" he waved with a smile, as he picked up two glasses.

You leaned against the counter opposite Sanji's and only then did you notice the bottle of wine next to you. Now his little disappearance made sense.

"The best dinner I've had in a long time." he placed the glasses next to you.

The two of them were alone there, just the two of them in the entire huge ship. Why was he so close to your body? Only a few centimeters separated them as he filled both glasses.

"Serious?" Sanji could melt right there when he saw the light in your eyes when he heard the praise. And he didn't make a point of hiding his smile because of it. "I mean, I just followed your recipe from that day."

"You said..." his smile faded, taking on a more serious tone as he took a sip of his drink. You, a nervous chaos, had almost completely turned the glass over. "You said you did all this, that it was because we were good friends..."

"Let me explain." you interrupted him, touching your hand to his chest involuntarily. Again, your brain seemed not to follow your feelings. "I know I didn't explain it well at the time, but you've been a great friend. Helping me with my sleepless nights, teaching me new things. I mean, I know I'm a little clingy and I understand you wanting some space . But today I just wanted to do this to thank you for everything you've done for me these days. You've been an incredible friend."

Before answering, he immediately put his glass aside. The hand that held the drink soon found your chin, gently lifting it so he could look you in the eyes. His hands gently cupped your face, in an affable gesture.

"I don't want to be just that. I don't want space either." he laughed, as if it were a joke that only he understood.

Your eyes were lost on Sanji's face. It was as if something pulled you and left you immersed in it, almost hypnotized.

"I don't want to see you awake at night scared, I don't want to have to leave you here alone on the ship when you're not well. I-I don't want to see you making appointments with that idiot swordsman. I-I..." all the his euphoria seemed to fade, the end coming out as just a whisper. "I don't just want to be your friend."

No warning, no permissions or no questions. Almost immediately his lips found yours softly. A long peck, testing the waters ahead. Your hands, previously hanging, found the face of your favorite cook, giving him the little courage he still lacked.

You could feel his kiss invading your mouth and heavens, that was what you expected. His hands dropped from your face and ran down the side of your body, until they reached your waist. The small cry of fright was muffled by Sanji's lips as he grabbed you by the waist and placed you on the counter, fitting himself between your legs.

You could sink there, you could let the air escape from your body and you would still die happy, but soon you felt it invade your lungs in a quick sigh, as Sanji's lips descended towards your neck, proving a path of goosebumps.

"Sanji." the damn heaven was there, hearing your voice calling him like that. Not even All Blue itself would be better than that. "Ji, wait."

His lips moved away from yours, but he didn't make a point of taking you off the bench, or taking his hands away from your body or at least disguising the fact that he couldn't stop looking at your lips, or your eyes, or any part your.

"So, you're not tired of me?"

"I just needed to get my head straight." he replied, his fingers exchanging some misunderstood pattern on your hips. "All I could think about was you and I was afraid that maybe it would go too far. That's why I took distance."

Instead of responding with words, you just sealed your lips with his, who seemed unable to contain a smile with such action.

"Even though I like it here, I think we should go. They're probably waiting for us." you warned, but Sanji just pressed your body tighter against his.

"We have drinks here and from what I remember missus, the herbal tea worked that day, so you owe me a drink."

"You have no proof." you teased him, already anticipating the comment he would make.

"If you don't remember, I slept next to you that night." he replied, as you predicted. "If you prefer me to remind you, I can sleep today, and tomorrow, and then..." with each word, he stole another kiss from your lips.

"But, I believe we should stay here, from what I remember, you weren't feeling very well today."

"Haven't you realized yet that it was a lie to stay alone on the ship? It seems easy, but that dough gave me a hard time, it took me all day to make it and..." you saw him threaten to open his lips for a laugh or some comment sarcastic about his culinary skills. "One word about this and I will now accept the drink Zoro was going to buy me."

"Lucky for you, your boyfriend is a great cook and you'll never have to worry about that."

"Boyfriend, hm?"

"For now. I don't plan on letting you go anytime soon." your lips were captured again and you finally understood that damn feeling. The sea breeze inside your stomach, the tremor in your hands and the heat in your body.

"Better not let go, cook."

#opla!sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji imagine #one piece sanji #one piece #reader insert #fiction #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji

[soapisahimbo]

Their S/O Already Has A Kid - 141 (+Alejandro & König) Edition

Anonymous asked: Your work is god tier, absolutely slaying rn. I'm not sure if you're taking requests but if you are... hear me out- can I please get the mw2 boys with an s/o who already has a kid? How would they interact with the kid?

So I wasn't entirely sure on what angle to approach this from, but I've written this as if reader has been a single parent who has worked with 141 for a while (not necessarily a soldier), the other parent isn't really in the picture and the kid is somewhere around 4-5 years old. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I sincerely hope you enjoy!

warnings: none! couldn't find a good gif to use though :(

John 'Soap' MacTavish:

From the second he finds out you have a child, way before there's even any suggestion that you will one day be a couple, he's on a mission to become The World's Best Uncle. It's like he's participating in a competition that no one else signed up for - he wants to be your kid's absolute favourite and he'll be damned if anyone else tries it. Will frequently ask you about the kid; "how're they doin' in school?", "do they have friends to play with?", "what do they want for Christmas?", "are they growin' well?", and even checks up with you to see if they need new clothes or anything. He will always have something for them for their birthday or Christmas and will happily say to you, "this is from Uncle Soap, all right? Take pictures when they open it, I wanna see how they like it!"

He has a natural desire to look after the people around him, and since he considers you a close and fast friend, he'll want nothing more than to help you out if he can. The closer you grow, the more he gets the urge to prove himself worthy - to prove that he'll be good to you and that you can trust him - and it's a sentiment he keeps long after you get together. You and your child become like a family to him, and it's a family he's keen on keeping.

The two of them will be like two peas in a pod. He'll play around with them near constantly, tell them stories from his job (adjusted to be more child-friendly) and teach them how to play football. He asks them about school, helps them with homework and he will happily treat the kid as his own. You're the love of his life and this child is his best little friend. He loves you both dearly and it fills him with immense happiness to have you two to come back home to once you live together. If he's available for it, he'll go with you guys to events and theme parks, and hopefully longer vacation trips. He doesn't ever expect them to call him "dad" (although if it were to happen, it would probably have him sobbing uncontrollably), he's just happy to be with you, and to be The World's Best Uncle Soap.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

It's worth mentioning that he'll be hesitant to get any closer to you than necessary at first, not because of any sort of disdain towards you or towards kids, but because of who he is. Simon has been through some terrible shit, and his work consists of doing even more terrible shit, and so he thinks that being any sort of role model to a child is way out of his range.

This doesn't mean he doesn't care, though. When you first get to know him, he seems cold and aloof and he doesn't seem to show any particular interest in you. What with you being on his team though, and him knowing that you're a single parent, he might approach you with the intent of at least showing some sort of support, whatever support he might be capable of showing.

He'll get something for the kid, like a stuffed animal or some sort of toy, but he doesn't hand it to you personally; he'll leave it somewhere where he knows you'll find it, like on your desk if you have one, and pretend like nothing happened.

He wants to keep his distance, but he can't deny the strange urge to look after you. It starts slow. He never asks, but he'll listen when you tell him about your child; how they've been doing lately, what you've done during the weekend, something funny they did or said. At first you might think he's ignoring you, but then one day he hands you a little trinket and tells you it's "for the little one, figured they might like it."

Growing closer and realizing that he has feelings for you is a complicated ordeal for him and he tries to keep it locked away deep down, but he's unable to stop himself for some reason. Once together, he cares greatly about you and your child, even if he might not always know how to show it.

He makes an unspoken promise to never let anything harm either of you, and so he keeps you under the radar as best he can. His team might know that you're together, but that's as far as they're informed. You won't hear much from him while he's out on missions, and he rarely mentions you or your kid to anyone, keeping any information about you sealed up tightly in the back of his mind, and if anyone asks he'll only give short-clipped answers, if he even bothers to answer in the first place. It's all to keep you safe.

With you, though, he's much more loving and gentle than others would even guess he's capable of. If you live together, he'll pick your kid up in his arms when he gets home and plant a gentle and loving kiss on your lips in greeting. Never raises his voice at anything if one or both of you are near, even if he's aggravated or annoyed. He plays ever so gently with your kid, even if they're play-wrestling and he's tossing them around because he's incredibly aware of his strength, and he sits patiently and quietly while they doodle on his arms or even his face and tells them bad (child-friendly) puns to get them to laugh. You and the kid are practically the only ones that get to see him smile.

His own childhood was incredibly traumatizing, and he tries his damnedest to make sure that that doesn't bleed over onto you or the kid, even if it means that he has to step away for a while. He's working on it, you might just need to give him some time. If this is as serious as he thinks it is, he wants to be the absolute best that he can be for you.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

He is oh, so gentle with your child. He's the dude that calmly and casually follows your kid around to make sure that they don't get in trouble while they explore. He's done it since the first time they met, and he still does it now, only interfering when they're headed somewhere they shouldn't be, or when they turn to him to play or talk. The type to offer to take care of them so that you can rest or focus on other things, and tells you "it's no skin off my nose" when you tell him that he really doesn't need to. He lets the kid approach him rather than try to get them to interact with him, and it's because of this exact mindset that kids usually love him. If they want to hug him, he'll happily wrap them up in a big and warm hug, but he's not going to convince them to because kids deserve their own bodily autonomy just as much as any adult.

He's one of those people who just magically makes kids fall asleep even when they're in that "I am dead tired but I refuse to sleep for some ungodly reason so I'm just gonna scream and cry at everything"-state, and it baffles you every time, but you're certainly not complaining. He has this air about him that is just very calming, and he makes both you and your kid feel immensely safe just by his presence alone. He starts out as just a close and caring friend, and the transition to more than just friends to an actual couple is a smooth one; one day you just kiss and you're not even surprised. It feels natural to have him around and when you see him interact with your child, it's like he's supposed to be there. You can't imagine anyone else, as if whatever empty space was there had been Gaz-shaped all along.

Gets your kid to laugh delightfully without even trying, wipes their tears gently and kisses their cheeks when they've scraped their knees or bumped their head, listens intently when they talk, even if they're just speaking nonsense ("but of course, all superheroes are from Norway."*) and will absolutely not laugh when they call Soap a dumb stinky poopyface.

Despite his calm demeanour though, Gaz is still a soldier, and very well-trained one at that. Should anyone approach you or your kid with the intent to harm you or threaten you, rest assured that he will not just let that slip by. He would give his life to protect both of you without even a hint of hesitation.

*based on an actual conversation I had with one of my nephews

Alejandro Vargas:

He doesn't care what anyone says, doesn't care what anyone thinks, doesn't care about what the kid looks like or how old they are, he is Dad™ now. Will wholeheartedly claim your child as his own and fight anyone who questions it. What the hell do you mean they look nothing alike, that's his fucking kid, are you blind?

He's so eager and willing to help, even long before you start dating. Takes any chance he gets to invite you and your child over, be it for food, for movie nights, to go to the park, or simply to talk. Before you know it, he has clothes and toothbrushes dedicated to both of you at his place, reminding you again and again that his door is always open for you; no need to even knock.

Let's be real, as generous and charming as he is, it's his sincerity that has you falling for him. He offers to take care of the kid while you rest, or to come over to clean up your home (Rodolfo might join as well, partly because of his goodhearted nature, partly because Alejandro roped him into it), and he looks you deep in the eyes when he tells you that his family is your family, be it Los Vaqueros or his own blood relatives. It's how he confesses to you as well, telling you that even if you don't reciprocate, he'll still be there for you.

If you didn't know any better, you yourself would start to question whether or not Alejandro is somehow the actual father. It's like they have some sort of telepathic connection, almost. The only one who knows that kid's moods and mannerisms and habits better than him, is you. He works with you like a team to make sure that you're always on the same page and make sure that you know that he only ever wants the best for you and the kid. Teaches them Spanish if it's not already their native language, and if they happen to pick up a curse-word from somewhere, he'll be horrified (kid said "puta" once and you thought he'd have a heart attack).

Much like Ghost, he'll keep you under the radar to keep you safe. Sends letters and gifts in secret when he's deployed, and now has a stronger determination than ever to stay alive. He doesn't ever want to imagine that one day might be the last he'll ever see you, so he'll walk through hell and high water to make sure he will return to you.

König:

He doesn't really know how to handle kids, but he sure does try. He is huge compared to this tiny little human - his calf alone is almost the same size as the entire child - so he tries to shrink himself down as much as he can. They might be a bit intimidated by him at first, but once that passes he is practically given the role of a human jungle gym. He stays alert, making sure that he's able to catch them should they fall off, and as awkward as he might feel, he would never let this little one come to harm. When you tell your kid to leave him be or be gentler with him, he quickly assures you that it's no problem and that he doesn't mind it at all; thinks it's quite fun actually. Before you know it, this tiny being less than a quarter of his size will be like his little sidekick, and it's honestly the funniest thing you've seen.

He's nervous around you though, not only because it's your child, but because over time the harmless little crush he's had on you grows stronger and stronger and stronger, and he's not sure how to handle it. When he tells the kid to be good to you, it's partly directed towards himself as well, as if he's telling himself to look after you. The idea of holding the child in one arm and you in the other fills him with such warmth that it almost catches him off guard. You're the one who tells him how you feel, and it kickstarts a full avalanche of stumbling words out him, because he's trying to find the right way to tell you that he feels the same and that he wants to be a part of your life.

He will be incredibly gentle with that child - he'll fuzz over the tiniest little bump or bruise or scrape, even if they're not bothered by it in the slightest. Picks them up very carefully while they can pull and tug and jump on him with all the strength their little body can muster without him ever budging - play-wrestling and tickle fights will be very carefully done because he would hate to accidentally hurt them. Loves teaching them German if they don't already speak it, and much like Alejandro, he will practically see his life flash by his eyes if they ever happen to learn a curseword from somewhere - especially if they accidentally picked it up from him.

Will keep any semblance of violence away from you and your child to as far of an extent as he can, but if anything happened to either one of you, he'd crush the skulls of everyone involved with his bare hands, that's for sure.

#cod x reader #cod mw2 fic #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 2: Home & Heartache

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.7K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Longing. Sexual themes. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

You’re standing on the docks overlooking the spanning vista of Deepwater Habor. A pale crescent moon is reflected in the glassy surface of the still water. Your hair blows in the slight breeze as you stare up at the heavens with tears streaming down your face. 

Having to tell Astarion that you could only be his friend had been a kind of torture you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemies. The love of your life was standing in front of you, telling you he wanted to be with you, making all your dreams and fantasies a reality, and you had shied away from him. 

It was the last thing you wanted to do. You wanted to be swept up in his comforting embrace and spend the rest of your life with him. A life with him was all you had desired since falling in love with him, but could you trust him not to leave you again? 

“Do you always come here at night?” 

You jump at the disembodied voice emerging from the inky darkness, nearly losing your balance and plunging into the bay water. 

Astarion struts casually out of the murky twilight. 

“Do you always sneak up on people?” 

“Darling, you wound me.” he says with a dramatic sigh, “If I were sneaking, you wouldn’t have heard or seen me until I was right behind you.” 

You know he’s right. You’ve seen in him action more times than you can count. His ability to move silently and blend into the darkness was uncanny and, honestly, a little disconcerting - if you were not his friend. 

I am beginning to loathe that word, friend. 

You roll your eyes at him, “I come here when I can’t sleep.” 

“Which is often, it seems. I’ve seen you standing here every night since… since I saw you last.” 

He’s been watching me? 

“Astarion,” feigning irritation, “have you been following me?”  

“Following is such a crude word,” he shoots you an innocent grin, “I prefer… admiring from a distance.” 

“You always did find a way to twist things into a more glamorous light.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, my dear.” 

You laugh, turning away from him and looking back out at the vast ocean. 

“It is beautiful out here.” 

When you turn around to answer him, you realize he’s staring directly at you. 

Concern spreads over his face, “You’ve been crying. Again. What’s wrong?”  

“What do you mean again?” 

There isn’t a point in denying you have been crying tonight. You can feel your eyes are swollen and red from nights spent weeping. Trails of tears stain your rosy cheeks.  

“Did you truly forget how good my hearing is, darling?”  

Throwing him your most innocent smile, “No, I just wanted to hear you admit you’ve been stalking me.” 

“Oh,” he tuts, “cheeky tonight.”  

Laughing, you hold out your arm, “Walk with me?” 

“Anywhere. Lead on.” 

You spend the night walking around the sleeping city. Reminiscing about old times and laughing at shared memories. 

“Do you remember the bugbear in the barn?” 

He chuckles, “How could I possibly forget? I don’t think eternity is long enough to burn that image from my mind and the grunting,” his face twists in disgust, “Gods below.” 

You laugh, “You wanted to open the door.” 

“Darling, you were going to open that door regardless.”  

“I was,” you admit.  

“Thank you for allowing me to do the honours.” 

Dawn starts to sprawl across the sky too soon. 

You try to sneak into the manor, but Gale is waiting for you, pacing around in the foyer. 

“Where have you been? I was worried sick!” 

“I…I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.” 

You still have not told him about Astarion, but you can’t exactly put your finger on why. 

I want to keep him all to myself… just for a little while. 

“All night?” 

“How did you know I was gone all night?” 

He looks around as if you’ve caught him with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.  

“You’ve been entirely too reserved the last few days, even for you. I came to check on you, but you weren’t in your room.”  

You feel a light annoyance grate at you, “I don’t need babysitting, Gale.” 

“I’m just worried about you, my friend. You look like hell - no offence intended. You barely sleep, barely eat, and barely speak. Something is clearly troubling you.” his face softens, “Let me help.” 

You know in your heart that Gale is genuinely concerned about your well-being but having him fuss over you is making you feel entirely too suffocated.  

“I’m sorry, Gale. Please just give me space.”  

He sighs, “I’ve been trying to give you space for months. It hasn’t helped.” 

No matter how genuine Gale’s concern is, his reluctance to give you what you so desperately need drives your anger further. You had felled Gods, an army of mind flayers, countless creatures hellbent on killing you, and he dared to think you could not take care of yourself? 

Turning, you grab your coat and open the door, “I can’t do this, Gale. Not right now.” 

“You’re leaving again?” 

You look back at him, “I’m so sorry.”  

The morning air is crisp, and your skin prickles with goosebumps at the chilled, damp breeze. The sun is half-risen, splaying a beautiful blend of yellows, pinks, and oranges high into the brightening sky.  

You wearily walk through the increasingly loud and crowded street. Your eyes are lidded heavily as your exhaustion sets in. You pass shopkeepers starting their daily stocking of goods, street vendors wheeling their carts out, and the children selling the daily paper screaming their sales pitch.  

Before you’re even aware of where you’re going or what you’re doing, you find yourself standing in front of the Golden Harp Inn.  

Fuck it. 

You climb up the creaking staircase and stand in front of room 2. Glancing both ways down the hallway, you check for any sunlight peeking through the windows before letting yourself in. 

I probably should have knocked. 

The room is dark, nearly pitch black, but you hear bare feet pad on the wood plank flooring. 

“You’re lucky I can smell you, darling. I very nearly took off your pretty little head.” 

A match ignites, and Astarion lights a small candle on the bedside table. He’s shirtless, his trousers hanging loosely around his waist. The candle flickers, and the shadows frolic on his silvery skin. 

He stares at you, confused by your intrusion, “What can I do for you?” 

The words tumble out before your mind catches up to your mouth, and you have a chance to stop them, “Get in bed.” 

He chokes, “I’m sorry. What?” 

Your face goes flush, “Sorry, that was brash. Let me try that again - may I please sleep here?” 

“You…I mean, of course, but why? What’s wrong?” 

You whisper, so low that you know only his ears would ever be able to catch it, “Because I miss my home…” 

“Oh, my love. Come here.” 

You take long strides, closing the distance between you in a frantic rush. Wrapping your arms around him, you push your body against his as closely as possible, nuzzling your cheek into his cool chest. 

His arms wrap around you in that tight embrace you remember well, and you breathe in his scent. 

You’re exhausted. So many nights have been spent fretting over his sudden reappearance, wondering what you should do and trying to stop yourself from doing exactly this. 

You release him reluctantly and shrug off your coat, throwing it over the chair sitting by the bedside. 

“May I?” Motioning to the buttons on the navy dress you’re wearing. 

You want to be close to him, as close as possible, with no more barriers between you, as long as he is comfortable with it. 

At least, just for today.  

You tell yourself it’s just for today. After this, you will have to return to being “just friends” as you requested, but do you truly believe you could ever be just friends with this man? 

You know this could be a mistake, but you’re too far gone to stop yourself.  

He smiles slyly, “Allow me.” 

His hands move to the buttons, and he undoes them quickly. You barely even feel his hands at work before the dress slips from your shoulders and pools to the floor, leaving you in your undergarments. 

“Beautiful.” His voice is breathless, with just a touch of hoarseness, and his eyes slither over you hungrily. 

Astarion whisks you off your feet in an easy, fluid movement, and you wrap your arms around his neck instinctively. He eases you onto the bed before slipping off his trousers and climbing in with you. 

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” He eyes you quizzically. 

“It’s nothing.” 

You don’t want to tell him about your disagreement with Gale.  

“Surely, you didn’t come all the way here to break into my room, delight me by letting me undress you, and climb into my bed over “nothing,” darling.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” 

His eyebrow cocks up, but he nods, telling you he will let it go… for now.  

You reach out to him, laying your hand gently on his chest, “Can I come close?”  

He replies simply by wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him with a happy sigh.  

You lay your head on his chest and slide your leg over his in a careful, slow motion, watching for any of the usual signs he’s feeling uncomfortable. You pray that you haven’t gone too far. He’s deliciously close now, and you want nothing more than to stay like this as long as he will allow. 

He doesn’t tense up at all. He seems perfectly comfortable. Dare you say, delighted even at the closeness of your body.  

Astarion plants a soft kiss on your forehead and rests his cheek against it, stroking your hair in the same comforting way he used to. 

Your eyes feel heavy and begin to drift closed immediately as your exhaustion envelops you. Your mind floats in that dreamy expanse between awake and asleep.  

“I’m too cold.” 

He tries to shift away from you, but you hang onto him tightly as if he were the lifeboat that was stopping you from drowning. 

“No, you’re perfect.” 

“Foolish woman,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval, “you’re trembling all over.”  

“Perfect,” you repeat quietly. 

He chuckles, shifting more blankets over you, “Rest now, my love.” 

Astarion blows out the bedside candle, blanketing the room in darkness. He rests his cheek on your forehead and starts to hum like he used to, lulling you into your trance.  

“Astarion?”  

“Hmm?”  

You can hear sleep starting to permeate his voice. 

“I missed you.” 

He kisses your temple softly, “I missed you too.” 

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you fall into a deep and dreamless trance.

When you awaken, you’re still comfortably entangled with Astarion. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders, but he’s awake with one knee bent, reading a book by candlelight. 

You untangle yourself from him and shift away. 

“I’m sorry.” you feel suddenly shy, “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”  

A low laugh escapes his lips, and he smiles happily, “Darling, this sad excuse for a bed has never been more comfortable.”  

You can’t help but grin back at him, “What time is it?”  

“Hmm, I’m not entirely sure, but from the absolute ruckus coming from downstairs, I assume it’s late evening, possibly early night.”  

You’ve slept through the whole day, and you feel like you could sleep through another one as long as your body is intertwined with his. 

“Are you going hunting tonight?” 

“No, not tonight.” 

He typically went hunting at night for dinner of the four-legged variety, or at least he used to years ago. 

“What were your plans for tonight?”  

“Oh, you know me, darling. I skulk around in the shadows, stalk a charming sorceress until she retires for the night, and then I see how many drunkards' pockets I can pick before I get caught. The usual.” 

You giggle and roll your eyes at him. He’s being honest, and you can’t help but wonder how many citizens of Waterdeep have awoken with a bad hangover and their coin purses mysteriously missing. 

“Let me guess, you never get caught?” 

He chuckles, “You know the answer to that.” 

Yeah, he never gets caught.  

You remember his deft hands well. They always moved with precision and purpose. 

Especially when they were exploring my body.  

You flush at your thoughts.  

A wicked smile tugs at his lips, “Oh, don’t keep your dirty thoughts to yourself. Do share.”  

“I was having no such thoughts.”    “Your body is telling me a different story, but I digress. Are you going to tell me what this was all about now?” 

You knew he wasn’t going to let it go for long. 

You sigh, “I had a… disagreement with Gale. I didn’t want to be there.” 

His eyebrows pull down in a slight scowl, “Did the wizard harm you?” 

You laugh, “No, Astarion. Gale would hardly swat a fly unless he had to. You know that.” 

“Good. I would’ve hated to have to kill him. I’m sure even his death would be boring.” 

You nudge his shoulder slightly to show your disapproval of his joke. He merely laughs at you. It was a gesture he knew well, of course. 

“Then what did the wizard do that made you come all the way here?” 

“He… He was being Gale. He’s worried about me, but his particular style of worry can be so… overbearing.” 

His eyebrow cocks, “Why is he worried about you? Did you tell him of my return?”  

“No. I haven’t told him about you yet.”  

He leans forward, finally closing the book he’s been holding, “Curious. Why’s that?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know, Astarion. I just… didn’t want to.”  

“I see…” He looks at you skeptically as if trying to read your mind.  

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.”  

You get out of bed and whisper a cantrip, lighting a small fire in the little fireplace, warming yourself by it for a second. Nights in Waterdeep were chillier than you were used to.  

Moving to the little window at the end of the room, you glance at Astarion to make sure he’s far out of the way of any potential sunshine that could stream in if he were wrong about the time of day. 

Once you see he’s safely away, you push the heavy fabric curtain out of the way and glance outside. The sun has already set far below the horizon, cloaking the city in darkness. It’s cloudy, and the moon shines brightly behind the thick cloud cover, but that pale light doesn’t reach the streets. It gives the city a rather eerie feel.  

“It’s night.” 

You glance at Astarion, and he’s eyeing you with a seething scowl.  

“What in the Nine Hells are those?”  

You give him a confused glance.  

What is he talking about? 

He jumps off the bed and crosses the room in quick, long strides, grabbing your arm and holding it out for you to see.  

“These. What the fuck are these?”  

Oh… 

He’s looking at the scars that mar the flesh of your arm. The telltale puncture wounds of vampire bites. Similar to the one adorned by his neck.  

“They’re nothing.”  

You pull your arm away from him swiftly, your hand trying and failing to cover the scars he’s so hawkishly inspecting.  

“Those are certainly NOT nothing. Tell me.”  

His tone is commanding, almost forceful, and his face is twisted in a rage you haven’t seen on him in some time.  

There’s no point in hiding it. 

“When you left, after I was sure you weren’t coming home, I tried to find you. I searched for you in every place I could think of.”  

His brows slowly rise, softening his expression, and you can see the anger slowly dissolving. 

“I returned to the Underdark to see your siblings. I thought maybe you had gone there to help the other spawn we set free, as you had mentioned before. The spawn in the Underdark are... shall we say, less in control of their impulses than you are." 

The anger flares back up in his eyes, and his mouth sets in a hard line, but it's anger born from concern. 

“Let me get this straight,” he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “you, quite willingly, wandered into a den of 7000 feral vampire spawn? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is!?” His voice is raised, harbouring a sharp edge. 

You square off with him, standing tall, anger pulling at you.  

Why does everyone think I can’t take care of myself? Make my own decisions?  

You scoff at him disapprovingly, “I was well aware of the risks, Astarion.” you cross your arms over your body, “I would do it again and again and again, indefinitely, if I thought I had even a slim chance of finding you.” 

He scoffs back at you. His eyes squeeze shut as he reins in his anger. When he opens them again, his face is softer, with a hint of sadness tugging the edges of his brows downward.  

“Gods, you’re stubborn, as you always were.” 

He reaches for your arm again, stretching it out and places gentle kisses on every scarred bite before pulling you into a tight hug. 

“I’m so sorry.”  

You hug him back, happy to be in his arms again, “It’s okay.” 

A lie. It’s not okay. You haven’t recovered from the first time he left, and now you were setting yourself up for another grand disappearance.   

Will I ever recover? 

Astarion’s scarlet eyes harbour cavernous regret as they linger over your scarred flesh.  

“I should probably tell Gale that you’re back… If you plan on staying in Waterdeep, that is.”  

Please don’t leave. 

“I’m not going anywhere, darling. Unless… unless you tell me to leave, of course.”  

“Then, he needs to know. I can’t keep this from him forever.”  

You don’t want to tell Gale. He and Astarion had a tumultuous friendship at the best of times, and that was before Astarion abandoned you in the dead of night.  

He sighs, “Allow me to come with you.”  

“You want to come with me?”  

He groans, “I don’t relish the idea, but you should not have to bear this alone.”  

You hesitate, knowing this is probably not a good idea, “You really don’t have to. I can manage this.”  

“Beautiful, I have no doubt you can manage it, but alas, if we must tell him, the least I can do is be there for him to scowl at.”  

Having Astarion there could make things easier or exponentially worse. It was a coin toss to know which though.  

“Fine. You can come, but don’t expect a warm welcome.”  

“Hm,” he snickers, “has the wizard lost all of his decorum?” 

You give him a disapproving glower.   

“I guess I should probably get dressed then.”  

You look him up and down, relishing in that glorious view, “Oh, I don’t know. I rather enjoy you like this.”  

He chuckles, “Well, darling, we can certainly arrange more… viewings. Although, I do wonder if this is something friends do. It has been such a very long time since I’ve had a friend.”  

You realize he’s referring to the fact that you told him you could be his friend but nothing more. Yet you had come crawling into his bed, nearly naked and completely unannounced.  

“I suppose that depends on the kind of friends we are.”  

“Oh, there is more than one kind of friend? Well, tell me, do you and Gale fraternize in nothing but your undergarments?”  

Your eyebrows raise as you redden, embarrassment heating your face, “Gods, no!”  

You can barely get the words out fast enough, and they jumble out of your mouth chaotically.  

“I thought not. We must be special friends indeed.”  

The walk back to the manor is relatively silent as you try to work out what in the Nine Hells to say, how to explain this, and why you hid it. 

Upon entering, the foyer is dimly lit, with only a few candles burning. Gale is nowhere to be seen, but Tara notices you and hops down from her resting place.  

“Good evening, Tara. Where is Gale?”  

“Mr. Dekarios is in the library, pacing about. That oaf forgot to give me my milk tonight!”  

You giggle at her vexation. She did hate it when she didn’t get milk. Spoiled little thing she was.  

Tara glances behind you, eyeing Astarion wearily.  

“I remember you, vampire. Keep your distance.” Tara’s back arches slightly.  

Astarion cocks an eyebrow at her and then looks at you, “Charming creature, isn’t she?” 

You shake your head. He probably thought of her as an amusing snack. 

“I’ll tell you what. If you tell Gale I need to speak with him in the kitchen, I’ll get your milk ready.” 

“You will warm it?”  

You nod to her, “Of course, just the way you like it.” 

“Fine. I will fetch Mr. Dekarios. Be warned, he is in a foul mood.”  

With that, she hops off, bounding up the flights of stairs.  

Astarion sighs dramatically behind you, “Great. A dour wizard.”  

You walk further down the hallway before you hear Astarion’s voice ring out.  

“Darling! Are you forgetting something?” 

You look at him puzzled for a second, before the realization strikes you.  

Right. He needs to be invited in. Does it even work if this isn’t my house? 

“Sorry… Wait, can I invite you in, or does it have to be the owner of the house? How does it work?” 

It was never something you two discussed in much detail since it had never been an issue before when you were infected with the tadpole.  

He looks at the doorway, and his eyebrows furrow, “Shall we find out?”  

“Come in, Astarion.”  

He takes a tentative step into the foyer and smiles, nodding, before following you down the long hallway.  

Astarion sits in one of the lavish chairs, unimpressed, “So, you warm milk now for cats?”  

“Tressym.” You correct him.  

“Cat with wings.”  

“Say it with me, Astarion. T-ress-ym.”  

He rolls his eyes at you and looks out the window overlooking the bay, “Quite the view.” 

You hear Gale’s footsteps bounding down the stairs at a breakneck pace before you see him.  

“You’re back. I was worried. I wanted to apolo-.” Gale’s voice cuts off as his eyes fall on Astarion, stupefied.  

“Astarion?”  

“It’s nice to see you too, Gale.” 

Gale looks between you and Astarion, bewildered. Tara trots out happily from behind Gale as you lower her bowl of warm milk to the ground. 

Gale shakes his head and plants his hands on the back of a chair as if to steady himself, “It makes so much sense now.” 

His expression is nearly unreadable, pointing to Astarion, “When did this happen?” 

“About a week ago, give or take a few days.” 

“And you didn’t tell me!” 

“I needed time to figure out what it meant, Gale. How I felt about it without external influences biasing my judgement.” 

Gale eyes you warily. He would have tried to talk you out of ever going to meet with Astarion in the first place.  

“And you, Astarion, what are you doing here?”  

Astarion is calm and collected, just staring out the window, not at all perturbed by Gale’s harsh tone, “Looking for her, of course.”  

“And now that you’ve found her? Are you planning to stay, or are you just going to run off again?” 

Astarion’s eyes narrow, and his jaw tenses at the accusation, “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless she tells me to.” 

Gale looks to you for answers. 

“I’m not telling him to leave, Gale. If that’s what you’re wondering.” 

Gale shakes his head disapprovingly and rubs his face with his hand. 

“Astarion, do you have any idea what you put her through? What state she was in when she arrived here?”  

A mixture of embarrassment and anger floods you. You had been in rough shape when you showed up here - thin, injured, and haunted. Gale had supported you, fed you, and housed you, allowing you to regain your strength.  

“Gale, enough!”  

You shout at him a little louder and harsher than you mean to. There were some things Astarion didn’t need to know, and Gale was about to spill it all. 

I am going to have to answer for this later.  

Astarion’s eyes narrow, “I have a feeling you were about to tell me, Gale. What state was she in?” 

You scowl at Gale as his mouth opens, and he immediately snaps it shut again. This information wasn’t his to tell. 

“That’s up to her to tell if she chooses to do so.”  

Astarion caught the critical glare you shot Gale, effectively shutting him up. It was a feat you were relatively proud of. Not many people could shut Gale up with a look.  

“Is that so?” Astarion’s crimson eyes are on you. 

Yup, I am definitely going to have to answer for this later.  

Gale throws up his arms in defeat, “Well, my friend, if you’re planning to stay in Waterdeep long term, then I think it best if you stay here, in the manor.” 

Astarion’s eyes widen, and he laughs loudly, “Thank you for the offer, but I will have to decline.” 

“The citizens of Waterdeep aren’t stupid, Astarion. Someone will notice your… nocturnal habits and eventually piece together what you are. It’s not safe for you to stay wherever it is that you are currently residing. I assume a cheap tavern.” 

Astarion scoffs, “It’s not cheap.” 

Gale rolls his eyes, “Be reasonable, my friend. The last thing she needs is for you to land yourself in a pile of trouble, where she needs to bail you out… again. I can have heavy curtains installed on the windows posthaste.”  

Astarion thumb comes to his chin in his usual “I’m thinking” manner before abruptly turning to you, “And what do you think of this… proposition, friend.”  

The way he says “friend” is almost seductive. Astarion always did have a way with words and could make almost anything sound as if he were making love to your ears with his voice.  

This is a bad idea.  

You, Gale and Astarion living in the same place is begging for trouble. Gale had feelings for you once upon a time. You had tried your best to be gentle with your rebuff of his advances, but he had been hurt that you chose the man who admitted to manipulating you over him. Whether those feelings were still alive and well was a mystery to you.

Regardless, Gale was correct here. Astarion staying at an inn was a bad idea. Someone would notice his peculiar schedule and eventually put 2 and 2 together. 

You sigh, “Gale is right. You’ve already made quite the impression on the innkeeper from what I gathered from speaking with her. It would be smart for you to stay with people who know about your… predilections.” 

He chuckles at you, “That is one word for it, I suppose.”  

Astarion runs his fingers through his hair, sighing.  

“Well, it appears I have been out-voted. I humbly accept your most generous offer, Gale.” He says in a pompous tone, “It will be like old times, but with exceptionally better lodging by the looks of it.”  

You have to hold yourself back from groaning out loud. You wanted to keep Astarion close, but this close?  

“Excellent! I shall have the room amended for your particular needs immediately. You should be all set to move here tomorrow night.”  

Astarion groans, “Lovely.” 

Astarion leaves the manor close to dawn. You retire to your room, hoping to get some rest, but rest is not for you. You toss and turn in your bed, missing Astarion and the comfort his presence provides. Eventually, you give up and move to the terrace to watch the sunrise. 

Tara comes to curl up in your lap, and you’re thankful for her company.  

“You sleep much less than the other humans I know.” 

You gently glide your hand down the soft fur of her back, eliciting a pleasant rumbling purr, “You are quite astute, Tara.” 

“I am.” She agrees confidently.  

“I have a lot on my mind. Sometimes I can’t get it to rest.” 

“Hm,” she thinks for a second, “have you tried warm milk?” 

You giggle at her. Warm milk was Tara’s cure for every ailment.  

“Is it the vampire that keeps you up?” 

She really was astute, smarter than most of the people you’ve met in your life.  

“Yes.”  

There’s no point in lying to her. She would take your secrets to her grave as she would Gale’s. 

“You care for him, yes?” 

She eyes you with those large green eyes, the first light of dawn dancing over them. 

“Very much so.”  

She cocks her head, “And this is a problem for you?” 

“I’m not sure I would classify it as a problem exactly. He means well, but he hurt me gravely not long ago. I fear he will do it again.” 

“I see. Why do humans fear that which has yet to happen?”  

Good fucking question. 

“Hm, you know how you avoid sleeping in walkways or being too close to someone walking because you’ve had your tail stepped on before, and it was painful?”  

“I do.” She nods her understanding.  

“It’s kind of like that, I suppose. We anticipate pain we have already experienced and try to avoid it.”  

“Hmmm,” she thinks long and hard, “I’m not sure I understand. I do avoid you humans when you’re walking about. You can be so clumsy with your feet, but I do not lay awake at night fearing it will happen.” 

Damn fucking cat… Damn it, Astarion! Tressym. 

She was right.  

Why am I anticipating pain that has yet to come or may never come at all?  

It was a pointless endeavour. Its only use was torturing yourself further. Yet here you were, every night, torturing yourself.  

“You’re smarter than I, Tara.” 

“I know.”  

You laugh at her utter conviction and watch the sun rise above the horizon, casting a brilliant yellow reflection over the water’s smooth surface.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  

You sense a note of hurt in Gale’s voice, and your heart drops into your stomach. He was your friend, and you had intentionally kept this from him.  

“I should have. I don’t have a good excuse.” 

“Yes, you should have. We could have talked about it.” He scolds you. 

I guess I deserve that.  

“Therein lies the problem, Gale. I didn’t want to talk about it.”  

“Well, I could have at least provided some comfort. Gods know nothing can make you talk when you don’t want to.” He scoffs, annoyed, “What colour do you think the drapes should be in Astarion’s room?” 

You shake your head at him, “Honestly, no matter what colour you pick, he’s going to complain about it.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell him you picked them out when he does.” 

Laughing, “Be my guest. If you’re lucky, he might believe you.” 

He won’t. 

“As long as they block out all sunlight, I’m sure he will live.”  

Gale’s hand comes to his chin, and he looks around, assessing the surroundings, “I suppose I should adorn most of the manor with these heavy drapes. I wouldn’t want him to feel confined to his room all day.” 

Despite the often-sour animosity infecting their friendship, Gale truly does care for Astarion, and it shows plainly. Although, you weren’t so sure about Astarion’s true feelings on the subject. He could be impossible to read, even to you who knew him better than anyone. 

“That’s nice of you, Gale, but I doubt he expects that.” 

Gale continues looking around, evaluating the rooms, probably working out how to cover the large stained-glass windows, “Well, you lived with him. What did he do during the day?”  

Your mind wanders back to the time you and Astarion shared loggings in your little house.  

What did we do during the day? 

You can feel yourself flush with the memories. Heat rises to your face, turning you red.  

“Perhaps, I don’t want to know.”  

The embarrassment only deepens at Gale’s obvious notice of your hesitancy, and you blurt out things in a rush to fill the awkward silence, “He mostly sleeps, reads or fusses over his clothing.” 

Gale nods, “I’ll have drapes hung in the library then.” 

Gods below. 

You excuse yourself, desperate to get away from the awkward mess the conversation has become. You spend the day fretting over useless things just to get your mind off the fact that you will once again share space with Astarion.  

Why does it make me… nervous? 

You have shared much more than space with that toxically handsome man, yet the prospect of living with Astarion again made your stomach flip around in your abdomen uncomfortably. 

Night falls over the city, slowly blanketing it in dim silvery moonlight.  

“Should we go fetch him?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer Gale before you both hear the knock, heads snapping towards the sound. Gale opens the door, and Astarion is waiting with a small pack slung over his shoulder. 

“Darling! I’m home!” He announces in a cheerful, albeit fake, voice that rings with sarcasm.  

“Where are the rest of your belongings?” Gale eyes the little pack, glancing around Astarion to see if he’s brought anything else. 

“Waterdeep is quite the trek. I had to travel light.” 

Gale’s eyes widen, “You NEVER travelled this light before. You always had us hauling around that damn mirror!” 

You nearly snort, making the sip of tea you just drank shoot out of your nose.  

The mirror. How could I forget?  

Astarion always lugged around that clunky, gold-rimmed mirror he loved so much. It had been a pain in the ass to travel with, and almost everyone complained about it at one point or another, not understanding the point of carrying around a heavy mirror he couldn’t even see his reflection in. 

It has been one of his most precious possessions, and it was one of the things he had left behind when he left you. 

Astarion’s crimson eyes find yours knowingly, “Careful, darling. Don’t choke.” 

His eyes return to Gale, “I have relinquished unnecessary sentimental attachments.” 

“Certainly convenient timing.” 

“What can I say? I’ve grown as a person.” 

Gale groans. 

This is off to a wonderful start. They are already annoying each other. 

“Are you going to make me stand out here all night? Where ever did your manners go, Gale?” 

“You’ve already been invited inside, or do you need to be invited in every time?”  

Astarion chuckles taking a step into the entryway, “I was being polite.” 

“I will show you to your room.” 

You follow Gale and Astarion up the stairs. Gale had chosen which room Astarion would stay in, and it just so happened to be the furthest room from yours. He had touted that it was the room that got the least amount of direct sunlight, but you weren’t so sure that was the real reason. 

“So, tell me, Astarion, what kind of trouble have you been getting into the last couple of years?” 

Your heart slams against your ribs. Naturally, you have wondered the same but refrained from asking because you aren’t sure you truly want to know the answer. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

“I would actually.” Gale’s tone is icy and confrontational. 

He’s trying to spur on Astarion. 

You stare at Gale with a skeptical look, but he is too busy glaring keenly at Astarion to notice. You had never known him to incite arguments. He was more likely to try and stop them before they started than to actually go searching for one. 

Odd. 

Astarion stares back at Gale with an easy, relaxed smile. He won’t be so easily enticed into an argument, “You know me, a little bit of this, a little bit of that.”  

You know that’s all the information he will divulge. He’s being intentionally vague, giving nothing away. 

“This room is yours.” 

Astarion walks in, looks around and whistles before smirking, “Nice curtains.” 

On cue, Gale points to you, “She picked them.” 

Astarion’s eyebrow cocks up in a clever glance, “Oh, I don’t know about that. They scream dull wizard more than draconic sorceress.” 

You laugh, and Gale groans loudly.  

“She told me a little about what you like to do during the day.” 

Astarion eyes you with an amused look, one that screams he’s about to say something he probably shouldn’t. 

Don’t do it. 

“Did she now?” His finger comes to his chin, and his eyebrow cocks handsomely, “I’m curious. What did she tell you I like to do during the day.” 

You feel yourself redden again, and he stifles a laugh, knowing he managed to fluster you. 

Ugh.  

Gale looks at you with a furrowed brow but continues, gracefully skipping over the awkwardness, “She said you like to read, so I’ve had the library windows draped, as well as most of the lower floor so you can move around freely during the day. I’d stay away from the upper floors unless you would like to be a pile of ash.” 

“Your generosity truly knows no bounds, Gale. Thank you.” 

Gale laces his hands behind his back and bows shallowly, “You’re welcome, my friend. I shall leave you to get settled then. Make yourself at home.” 

Gale strides away and disappears down the hall, muttering to himself under his breath. Your ears can’t pick up what he’s saying, but from the look on Astarion’s face, he definitely can.  

“He’s certainly in a tizzy.” He chuckles.  

“You goaded him, Astarion.” 

His hand comes to his chest dramatically, “I did no such thing!” He mewls, “How should I know what you told him about what, or rather whom, I like to do during the day?” 

You feel that familiar flush rush up to your face again. 

This Gods damn man! 

He snickers at you, “You’re too easy, darling.” 

“You should be nicer to him. He did change his home to accommodate you, after all.” 

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “I never asked to stay here. I was perfectly content to stay at the inn.”  

“It’s dangerous, Astarion.” 

“Darling, I’ve spent two centuries learning how to blend in. I can take care of myself.” 

You roll your eyes at him, “You couldn’t blend into a crowd if you tried.”  

“Is that so? Care to tell me why not?” 

He knew why. He was well aware that he turned heads everywhere he went. He thrived on the attention. It had often been a point of contention between you and him. There weren’t many places to go during the night, but you two would often go to the tavern for a drink to get out of the house, and he was constantly being fawned over. 

People would “accidentally” bump into him, "trip” in front of him to elicit a response and all other manner of convoluted attempts to get his attention. The most exceedingly brazen individuals would simply try and push you out of the way or wedge themselves between you. 

It didn’t phase him, of course. His eyes were always on you, and only you, but you had a fiery jealous streak, and no matter how well he disregarded all advances, it drove you crazy. 

“You know why.” 

He smiles devilishly, “Yes, but I do enjoy hearing you say it.” 

“Goodnight, Astarion.” 

“Goodnight, my dear.” 

Your bedroom door closes with a quiet click, and you take deep breaths, trying to steady your frantically beating heart. 

Why does he have this effect on me? He barely has to look at me before my heart is trying to leap out of my throat. Worse yet, he can hear it. 

You curse your body for being so obvious to read. You’re an open book to him. All he has to do is listen to the racing of your heart, the hitching of your breath, or oftentimes, all of the above, and he will know what you are feeling. 

Foolish, foolish woman. 

Changing into your night clothes, you crawl into bed and fall into your trance fitfully.  

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. It really does brighten my day, and I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.

Small Notes:

- Thinking about giving Tav a name, and as I don't generally like to use "Tav" (feels too generic, but I suppose that's the point), it would be something else. I can understand that it might be a little jarring at this point in the story though, so let me know how you feel about the idea. Hate it? Love it? Don't care either way? Let me know!

- I promise we are going to start spicing things up soon, but expect a rather slow burn... if I can convince Tav to keep her pants on.

If you're interested, I also write a fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 1: Abandonment

AO3: [Crossposted]

#astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #bg3 #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion

[thatmrmiller]

Give an Inch, Take a Mile

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Death, alcohol consumption, drugging, manipulation, significant age gap, noncon, virgin!reader, forced breeding, likely other very dark themes throughout. Read on at your own risk.

-

When Joel found out your dad had left you here alone when he went on a supply run, he checked in on you now and then.

It was relatively innocent at first, partially out of genuine concern.

The more he dropped in, the more this changed. He started to grow interested in you in a way he wasn’t before, noticing things like your wide eyes and mature figure.

He wasn’t sure how old you were. Probably in your 20’s, but things were different here in the QZ. People didn’t experience as much as they used to. So you likely seemed younger than you would be for your actual age in the outside world.

He came to the door one night after curfew, knocking quietly to avoid drawing attention. You answered in sleep shorts and a large oversized tshirt. Probably belongs to your dad.

“How you doin’, hm?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe intrusively.

“Fine, Joel, thank you for checking on me. But its late.” You rubbed your eyes a little. He found it quite endearing.

“I know that darlin’, past curfew, you gonna leave me on the step for FEDRA to find me?” He challenges, his voice remaining soft and gentle.

“Um, no.” You say, frowning a little and moving out of the doorway and allowing him access to your home. You don’t know why he does this, you don’t know if your dad asked him to.

You don’t think so, your dad trusts you and plus, you don’t really know Joel that well. There are other friends of your dad’s who you would be more comfortable checking in on you.

He settles himself onto the couch without permission and you watch him carefully. He reaches into his jacket and removes a small pocket flask.

“Come sit.” He beckons you to the sofa.

It’s a little unnerving, the way he comes into your home and commands the space so easily like it belongs to him.

You perch nervously on the edge of the sofa trying to keep your distance from him.

“When did your dad say he would be back?” He asks you kindly.

“Saturday at the very latest.” You respond quietly.

“And what day is it today?” He muses.

“Tuesday.” You murmur.

He hums in response.

“I know that route well.” He says. “Never known someone to take this long. It’s an easy one.”

You frown at him. Obviously, you were already aware that he was late and you are nervous about his return. You don’t know why he is telling you this, as it only serves to make you even more anxious.

He smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes and is a bit unsettling. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon, honey.”

You don’t answer. He continues drinking his whiskey in your living room even though you don’t talk to him.

After a while, he gets up to leave. “You need anything?” He asks.

You do actually need more food, but you don’t want to rely on him, so you tell him no and he leaves. You would find some other way.

Another week passes of Joel dropping in every few nights. You managed to get some rations without telling anyone that your dad was gone, as you knew that made you more vulnerable. It seemed only Joel knew you were alone.

He hadn’t brought up the topic of your dad since last time, but he did tonight.

“He been gone two weeks now, sweetheart?” His tone is like a question but he obviously already knows the answer.

You don’t answer him.

“Aren’t ya’ gettin’ worried?” He presses.

“Obviously.” You murmur back.

“What was that?” He says, turning his head. You had noticed he had a good ear and a bad ear.

“I said, obviously.” You repeat with more attitude.

He laughs a little at your tone. You don’t like the way he acts towards you a lot of the time, talking down to you or chuckling away to himself like you were a child.

“Whose gonna keep you out of trouble then, huh?” He says, taking a sip of his drink. He is always drinking.

“No one else.” You say. “He’s going to come back soon.”

He pats at your thigh. You almost shiver at the feeling. He’s never touched you before.

“Yeah. I’m sure he will, sweetheart.” He says, with that wry smile again that makes you shift nervously in your seat.

He doesn’t remove his hand from where it rests on your thigh. You sit in silence until he leaves.

You dream of him that night. You dream of the feeling of his hand touching you like that, and in other places too. In your dream, you are crushed by his scent and his heat, all overpowering and overbearing.

You wake up a little ashamed and confused.

Nearly four weeks since your dad left, and Joel is round nearly every night. You have started to get used to his company. It’s at least a little bit of a distraction from the sadness that has enveloped you, the worry that consumes you each day for your father, the guilt and torment you experienced when you felt your hope resigning itself to grief.

Joel brings food and other small things for you, books, usually. You sit and read, and he drinks, usually in silence. It starts to become slightly comfortable. Or at least, it is no longer necessarily uncomfortable.

The next day, Joel arrives around noon with a solemn look on his face. He was supposed to be on shift burning bodies.

“I think you should sit down.” He says, guiding you by your lower back to the sofa.

You follow his instructions, crossing your legs, tucking them under you and looking at him, expectantly.

“It’s about your father, sweetheart. You know I was dealing with the bodies today. Well-“

“No.” You cry out.

He pats your head, an awkward rehearsed move that shows no compassion.

“I’m sorry.” He says, but he doesn’t sound very moved.

You wail and he sits down beside you. You feel weak as he pulls you closer to him until you’re almost on his lap. You appreciate the feeling of his arms around you, you think he really is trying to be sensitive, until you feel his erection pressing into you.

How can he possibly be having that reaction to you wailing in his arms? You try to push him away and crawl away from him but he locks his arms tighter around you, keeping you stuck there. You try to free yourself again but you hear him grunt slightly and realise that the feeling of you wriggling against him must be pleasurable.

Because of that, you resign yourself to sitting still in his lap and even let him stroke your hair and kiss your head gently. You eventually drift off to sleep, having exhausted yourself from crying.

After that day, Joel starts coming over straight after work, not bothering to wait until its dark before joining you in the late evening.

You struggle with your grief, barely eating or sleeping. Never reading. Most days you sit near the window and just look out. Joel drinks on the sofa. Some nights he offers you food, and most nights he leads you to bed. You stay where he puts you in your room, but usually you don’t sleep.

You’re not sure when, but he starts sleeping over. First on the couch and then more often, in your father’s room.

One day you ask him why.

“You should have someone here to watch you. Keep you safe.”

“I don’t need someone to watch me. I’m not a kid.” You protest.

He looks you up and down and smiles. “Of course you’re not.”

He comes towards you and kisses your head. You have gotten used to him doing this and while you don’t like it, you don’t bother trying to avoid it any more.

Slowly you begin to start keeping yourself busy. You start preparing food for him, just for something to do. He never thanks you verbally, but you assume that he is showing gratitude when he sits with a hand on your thigh.

One night after he eats, he offers you to drink with him. You have tasted beer before, but not whiskey. You don’t like the smell of it.

He encourages you and you eventually give in, taking a sip. It makes your throat burn and churns your stomach.

You shake your head when he offers you the glass again, but he puts it in your hand somewhat forcefully.

“Come on. It will make you feel good.” He urges.

You don’t know how that could be true but you don’t have the energy to argue so you do as he says anyway.

You continue to sip at it and force it down, pushing the glass back towards him when you are done. He fills it up.

“No.” You say, but he ignores you and slides you the now full glass again.

You haven’t been drunk before. Your dad was quite protective and would never have let you go to one of the illegal bars inside the QZ where people like him and Joel did business.

He offers you a book, and you take it. It’s a welcome distraction from the strange feeling coming over you, but you can’t really focus on the pages.

He must notice, asking you how you feel.

“Weird, I guess.” You admit.

He just nods.

“Take one of these.” He says, offering you a packet of pills from his pocket.

“No.” You say.

“It will make you focus again. It stops you from feeling weird.”

You aren’t sure how that might work but he obviously knows more about this than you and you don’t want to seem stupid so you choose to believe what he says and you take one.

He tells you to wash it down with the rest of your second glass of whisky.

After a few moments, your focus on the book is even worse. The words are blurred and you feel tired. You put it down.

“It didn’t work.” You say. Your voice sounds different, quieter.

He hums. “Strange.”

He lifts your legs and places them on his lap. Your body feels unusually pliant, like you don’t have much control over the way he moves you.

You wriggle and you feel him harden under you. You try to take your legs away but he holds an arm over them so you can’t.

His other hand moves up your leg. You are just in shorts so most of your leg is bare. His touches start gentle, drifting across your skin, almost tickling, but then he starts to grip you harder.

You can’t form words to ask him to stop, you feel like the connection between your brain and your body is broken.

He lets go of your legs and you try to move them but you don’t have any strength. His hand that is on your leg travels closer and closer to the hem of the shorts, eventually slipping under them and touching at your underwear.

You want to yell, to tell him to get off. No one has touched you like this before. But when you open your mouth only a feeble moan escapes you, and you realise you are unable to form words.

He presses at your underwear and you feel it start to dampen. It must be involuntary because you know you don’t want him touching you in this way.

You hear the sound of a buckle and look down to see that his free hand is taking off his belt and unzipping his jeans.

He takes out his cock, it is large and aggressive looking, with an angry red tip and prominent veins running down its length. It looks like a tool to cause pain, not pleasure.

He continues to touch you, only through your panties, and begins to touch himself simultaneously.

He rubs up and down the shaft of his cock roughly, and the pressure with which he is touching you becomes rougher too.

A different sensation runs through you and you look down to see that his hand has now slipped inside your underwear. You raise a hand to try and push his away, but you find your muscles are weak and you don’t succeed. Your hand falls back to your side.

He starts to grunt loudly and then something warm trickles onto your legs. It’s his cum, spurting and leaking from the tip of his cock all over you. He continues to play with your pussy for a few moments before taking his hand away.

He doesn’t bother to clean up your legs, he just supports your weight and takes you down the hall in the direction of your bedroom. He deposits you onto the bed, covers you with a blanket, and leaves.

You couldn’t really remember what had happened that night, you just remember what felt like falling asleep on the sofa.

Joel started to be more and more close to you afterwards though, all the time. Pressing into your ass when you stood in the kitchen. Guiding you onto his lap when you were on the sofa together. Sometimes, when he took you to bed, he stayed in your room. You just accepted this new way of him behaving, you knew that without your dad here, you were powerless to stop Joel.

He tries to encourage you to drink whisky with him more often, but you refuse with more conviction now after the unusual night you feel as though you had last time.

You are reading and your eyes and head start to hurt so you put your book down.

“What’s wrong?” He says.

“Headache.” You respond, closing your eyes.

You hear him rustling in his pocket and then he offers you a pill. You shake your head.

“It’s just pain medicine.” He says. “It will help your head.”

You say no again but he goes to get you water and then hands it to you along with the pill.

“It’s just pain medicine.” He says again.

He stares at you intensely and you agree to take it. He only looks away after he sees you have swallowed it.

To be honest, he was telling the truth about the fact that it took the pain away. But it replaced it with that uncomfortable fuzzy feeling you remember from before.

The next morning, you woke up in your room alone. But you were wearing different clothes from the ones you had on last night. You try to avoid him for the rest of the day.

One night, you have a nightmare. He storms into your room when you yell out in terror.

You find yourself apologising to him for disturbing him.

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’ll stay, make sure you’re OK.”

“No, Joel, I’m fine.” You say, but he ignores you and climbs into your bed anyway.

You don’t know how long you have been sleeping when you are awoken again. He is sliding your shorts off of your legs.

“What are you doing?” You say.

“They’re uncomfortable.” He asserts.

“No, they’re not.” You respond, but he keeps going anyway, taking them all the way down your legs and then tossing them on the floor.

The length of his manhood presses into your asscheeks, now only covered in flimsy underwear. You try to ignore the feeling, especially when he locks his arm around you to try and keep you pressed closer to him and starts shifting his lower body, grinding against you.

He stops and eventually you fall asleep. Next time you wake up, it’s because he is touching you. His hand is stuffed inside your panties and he is rubbing you, sticking fingers inside you, touching you everywhere he can reach.

You say no and try to grab his wrist to take his hand away.

“Come on, baby.” He says. “I’ve got to look after you.”

You don’t know how that’s related to what he’s doing, and plus you never wanted him to ‘look after’ you anyway.

“I care for you. I go to work to bring you food. It’s only fair, come on.”

You struggle against him again but his grip is like a trap, the more you fight against it the tighter it becomes.

He starts to pinch and nip at your clit, rolling it between his thumb and finger. It’s such an intense feeling that a little cry escapes you.

He groans loudly in response to the sound you make and presses his erection harder into your ass. You feel grateful that at least he isn’t trying to put it inside you. You suppose you can put up with the touching as long as he doesn’t try that.

He takes his hand away from you and lets go of the tight grip around your middle. He takes your underwear off entirely. You try to protest but he just shushes you. He spreads your pussy and spits, a large amount of saliva landing on your folds and dripping down. It feels dirty and intimate. You didn’t want to do this with Joel, but you didn’t know how to get him to stop.

He uses his hands again, spreading the spit around as lubrication, and it made filthy sounds. He then put his fingers inside you, three long thick ones that stretched you out and hurt a little. He hammered them into you for a few moments, the force of his arm pushing you up the bed and making your shirt roll up. With his other hand, he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pushed it up roughly to expose your breasts. You weren’t wearing a bra and he stared at your nakedness, his mouth falling open and his eyes grew heavy and hooded as he looked at you. He was rubbing at his own cock through his boxers.

He started to play with one of your breasts, twisting and pinching at your nipple. It hurt a little and you squirmed, you don’t know if he saw that as a sign of pleasure or pain, but he kept doing it anyway.

With his other hand he started applying pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles. Then he let go of your breast and took his cock out from his boxers, you looked away. He grabbed your chin and forced your gaze back in his direction.

He fisted himself and continued to rub at your clit and finger you. It didn’t feel good but your body was having it’s own reaction, a knot of tension building inside of you that you had felt yourself a few times but never with someone else.

You couldn’t help but start to pant and whine a little as the feeling started to overwhelm you. This emboldened him and he paid more attention to the hand that was on you, rubbing your clit vigorously, making you clench and shake under him.

You wished you could stop it from feeling good, you wished you could inhibit your body’s natural reactions as you knew if he got any sign that you enjoyed this that he would start to do it more frequently.

But you couldn’t stop that tension building low in your stomach, your legs seizing up and then it snapped with a cry and you felt your orgasm coming over you.

You clenched around the fingers he had inside you, gripping them tightly. He grunted and spilled his load of cum all over your stomach and cunt.

He plays with it a little, spreading it all over you. You find it disgusting and a little animalistic. You try to get up to leave and clean yourself off but he grips you tightly and doesn’t let you get out of bed.

Joel does this with you twice more before trying anything else. You had grown numb to it and let him do as he pleased without protest. You started to believe him when he said he deserved to get to do this because he earns you your rations and brings you things he trades especially for you. His gifts become more valuable, rarer items like scented soaps, even a perfume.

You know he is trying to earn your favour, that there is no real kindness in his actions, but you do start to appreciate them for some reason.

He has taken to sleeping with you every night now. On the nights when he doesn’t touch you, he usually holds onto you and jerks off, sometimes when you are awake and other times when you are sleeping and you only notice in the morning.

He tells you off for wasting water when you try and wash the sheets every day.

You are both still a little damp from showering, his curls slicked back with water and your wet hair splayed out on the pillow beneath you. You lie there as he kisses and licks at your neck, chest and stomach. He starts to go lower, putting his hands to your underwear. You reach out to push him away but he lets out a disgruntled sound, practically a growl, so you stay still again.

He takes off your underwear and then his own, and situates himself between your legs. You try not to look at him as he ducks his head down between your legs, his stubble burning your legs as he inhales your scent deeply and licks at your inner thighs. He has never used his mouth on you before and you try to squeeze your legs together to stop him, but his hands reach up to pin your legs down and keep them spread.

He kisses and licks at your cunt hungrily. When you reach out to push his head away, he gives a harsh slap to your clit and you cry out, so you stay still and let him continue his actions.

After a while, he uses his fingers. It hurts less than usual, but you still don’t like it. Then, impatiently, he stops and moves up, positioning his cock between your legs.

He starts to grind it against your cunt, gathering up all the wetness and then rubbing it down his shaft. He nudges it at your entrance and your hands fly out to his chest to try and push him away.

“No, I’ve never- I don’t-“ You begin to protest, but he interrupts you.

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. You’ve saved yourself for someone who cares about you.” He says.

You think the opposite, but he pins your hands above your head and continues to massage your folds with the head of his cock. You are worried that if he does this, it will somehow connect you to him forever.

When he breaches your entrance, it hurts. The stretch is unlike anything you have ever felt and you don’t like it. You feel tears forming in your eyes as he continues to push in, forcing you open.

As one rolls down your cheek, he leans down and licks it. He is grinning. He likes that he has made you cry.

You focus hard on not crying so he can’t enjoy it, holding your breath and trying to withhold your tears. But this makes you wrack with a sob, his pace increasing furiously.

He watches in delight as you cry and sniffle. Everything about this is wrong. It hurts as his stubble scratches at you when he leans in close, the force of his cock driving into you is too harsh, the grip of his hands on you is too rough.

He indulges selfishly in his own pleasure and it hurts. You assume he likes the sounds you make so you try to be as quiet as you can. The only sounds are his grunts and the wet skin slapping together.

You expect him to pull out eventually and jerk off onto you like usual, but it goes on and on and he doesn’t stop. He becomes particularly forceful and then stops suddenly with a loud groan and you feel his warm hot cum releasing inside of you.

You cry, understanding what he has done.

He rolls off of you and you lie in silence for a while.

“Can I ask you something, Joel?”

“What is it?” He says, uninterested.

“If my dad died out on the supply run, how’d they have his body here. Don’t they only have people who die inside the QZ.”

He flashes that wry expression. That deceiving smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. That unnerving, cold look that still makes your skin crawl.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t have all the answers.”

Something in your gut tells you not to believe him. You start to wonder if your dad had made it back, after all, and met his fate inside the walls of the QZ.

There would be no way for you to find out.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

#joel miller smut #tlou smut #joel miller fanfiction #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you

[wherevenusholdssomeofficespace]

Why the Llama Incident works

The noodle incident is a trope done in A LOT of shows (PNF has a whole TV tropes page dedicated to its noodle incidents). Technically getting disowned and raised by ocelots is a noodle incident in pnf... we never do know what gets him officially disowned and how he ends up in the care of the ocelots). The noodle incident is meant to just showcase that this character has a history of some sort.

Generally speaking, explaining a noodle incident is a bad idea because the unknown has infinite potential. The intrigue is part of what makes it interesting. People can come up with ideas that are absolutely out there themselves. Usually, coming up with something that will live up to the hype is impossible because the hype of the event has built it up to impossible levels.

Emphasis on the usually.

They literally called it a llama incident. They knew what a noodle incident was, and were purposefully playing with our expectations that it would be an unrevealed event. And, as I said before, PnF has already dealt with its fair share of noodle incidents that go unexplained.

And as a noodle incident it served its purpose. Generally a noodle incident will provide context on what the status quo is without spelling out the details. In Rollercoaster the Juggling Monkey's noodle incident tells us that this is not the first time Phineas and Ferb have had a Big Idea (in fact we never do get what Phineas and Ferb's first Big Idea was). In Milo Murphy's Law the Llama incident tells us that Milo and Melissa were getting into Murphy's Law shenanigans long before Zack came into the picture. Showing us that they're so familiar with each other that situations that might require more context to another person doesn't.

Now bear with me as I go on a bit of a tangent that I promise is related.

The main cast of Milo Murphy's Law is a trio, and one of its members is defined by being the new guy. Zack is kind of an audience surrogate. Melissa is Milo's childhood friend and Milo has lived with this all his life. Generally, they don't need to explain anything to each other, nor do they need to explain anything to their class who is already at least passingly familiar with Milo. But they do to Zack.

I don't necessarily think MML NEEDED the audience surrogate character per se. Quite frankly I think audience surrogate characters are rarely necessary. You can always just start with a group of friends and fill in context via implication. I think it's just significantly harder, because you run the risk of alienating your audience by not allowing them to get settled in what is going on or having your characters talk about things like they don't already know what is going on.

But I don't think its at all an inherently bad storytelling method. I personally find outsider POVs delightful, and a good audience surrogate character is an outsider POV, at least at the start. Zack being new to the whole Murphy's Law allowed him a story about choosing to engage with the hazardous kid, winning him loyal friends and a set of skills he never would have dreamed of before. We get to see him grow, and we wouldn't have seen that if he was Milo's friend the whole time.

On the other hand he also has a bit of a wild background, as the former lead singer of a locally famous lumberjack themed boy band. Which gives Milo and Melissa the chance to join a band. Or for Milo to have a real birthday party. A change in status quo provides opportunities for growth and change, for the whole cast, which is useful in more overarching stories... like MML. It's not NECESSARY of course. Zack could have been a classmate that had always kept his distance before he accidentally got tangled up with Milo and decided he was cool. But there's nothing wrong with him being straight up new either.

And at the most basic level, Zack's complete unfamiliarity provides a nice contrast to Melissa's familiarity and Milo's day to day life. Zack is starting from 0 while Milo has been dealing with this every single day of his life.

So Zack isn't going to know what the Llama Incident is. And while noodle incidents being unexplained is fun for the audience, it isn't going to be so fun for someone who is constantly living with people who know what this Llama Incident is. Of course they could have told Zack the noodle incident off screen, it would have made for a good gag to cut into the story with Melissa and Milo finishing telling Zack the story. But instead, we are treated to an episode that has Zack really beginning to slot into his life as Milo's friend.

Back to the main point.

MML is one of the only shows with enough sheer chaotic energy that it could actually pull off making a group of seemingly unrelated references into a cohesive genuinely interesting story. The whole show is things that could feasibly be noodle incidents, which makes it easy to get a baseline for what could have happened. Milo uses stuff in strange ways all the time, getting tangled up with weird animals and ending up in strange situations. There's no REAL reason to feel like we're missing out on too much. It sounds like a normal Milo situation, just with only him and Melissa... and the fact they keep bringing it up.

And really, if you think about it, its just Planned in Advance Meapless in Seattle. Meapless in Seattle was meant to be a bunch of unrelated clips meant to be a noodle incident of sorts. We wouldn't know what exactly would go down in that fake episode. But they managed to bring everything together into a really fun episode that made sense and honestly lived up to the hype. (At least for me). I mean. They somehow made it work. That's a feat in of itself.

The episode "Llama Incident" starts out implying a completely different noodle incident. We never learn how the kids end up on that branch. That's not important. That stuff happens all the time. Is the Llama Incident more interesting than the other stuff Milo gets into? Not particularly, but it DID involve him using more stuff he didn't normally use.

And the Llama Incident is told in the format of a story. Changing up the format of the episode is always a good way to make an episode feel fresh. I mean, look at The Remains of the Platypus. It's just an episode told backwards but its delightful chaotic fun. Or Delivery of Destiny. Really the only difference is the day follows the perspective of a delivery guy, but we get all our normal plot beats. But both are some of my favorite Phineas and Ferb episodes. If you remove their gimmicks they're pretty basic. Phineas and Ferb build a cheese themed amusement park, and Doofensmirtz's plan is only slightly more novel with brainwashing Perry. Phineas and Ferb building a ride and Doof juicing city hall are pretty typical of them, but Paul's semi-outsider POV (and being one of the closest characters we get to having the full picture of the story we the audience see), makes it feel fun and fresh. It makes the Llama Incident feel special. Even if it isn't my favorite unique episode format, it's still something fresh and fun.

So Milo and Melissa sort of tell the story a bit out of order, because they forget what pieces Zack would and wouldn't have context for or would or wouldn't find interesting. And, again, it's told as a story to Zack, so he asks questions. It's told while they are hanging from a branch, where they cut back to every once and a while to remind us that hey, the group is in the middle of a whole other Murphy's Law incident. We're getting two for one today.

But through the episode we get a bit of a Zack character arc. We've already established that Melissa and Milo are used to this, even if you weren't aware the way they were casually rating it at the beginning of the episode should tell you all you need to know. But Zack isn't completely used to this yet, so he's just nervous. He spends the episode using the story as a distraction, but being genuinely invested. In the end, the story acts as an inspiration to Zack, and he's able to help the group get out of the situation. AND for his trouble, he gets his own mysterious incident to reference. After half a season, he's truly part of the group now. He will continue to grow of course, trying to become braver and cleverer, and he's already made strides since the first episode. But even if Zack isn't really any less part of the group before or after its still a significant moment in Zack's character arc.

And then the Llama Incident comes back the next episode. The date was memorable to Milo, even throughout all of the other chaos in his life. And sometimes that's just how life is. And he uses his knowledge of the event, the way it stuck in his mind, to save him, Dakota and Cavendish from Pistachion's in Missing Milo. What we thought was going to just be a noodle incident, a running gag that functioned to establish just how used to this stuff Milo and Melissa were, turned out to be a plot point. To be fair we didn't NEED to know what the Llama incident was for Milo to choose to go there. We didn't need to know about the Llama Incident to know it was typical Murphy's Law shenanigans. It could have just been more out of context llama stuff. But now we the audience are in on the joke, so when Cavendish and Dakota express confusion, we can revel in the fact we know something they don't. Especially about two characters who themselves were slow revealing information about themselves to us... sure by that point we know their deal but at one point they were as mysterious and out of context to us as the Llama incident. And now we know what the Llama Incident is, and what their deal is.

The Woodpecker incident also is vaguely referred to later with the woodpecker whistle. We may not know the full story there, but it is still satisfying to see Milo's adventures giving him the skills and tools to deal with bigger, actually hostile, threats.

And at the end of the day, even if the Noodle Incidentness of the Llama Incident is ruined, it was immediately replaced with the Woodpecker incident. Which admittedly is never mentioned, but it doesn't need to be. The point of the Llama Incident was to draw attention to a specific incident to make a gag out of it. But they have incidents all the time. And we're privy to most of them. We sometimes get references to other incidents that we never fully get the context for. But we don't need context. We know how it'll go anyway because we have a whole show of effective noodle incidents.

#mml #milo murphy's law #zack underwood #I talk a lot about him specifically so he gets special mention

[grandeoatmilklatte]

Fire in the Frat House (Modern College AU Ominis Gaunt x F!MC) 🔥

Another mood board challenge from my wonderful friend @ellivenollivander . She sent me another mood board to base a fic off of, with this one being Ominis themed. So I decided to revisit my modern college AU Frat boy Ominis.

Tagging @little-emerald-snake cause you were excited when I posted the snippet to this one! Apologies it's not hella spicy but I have some spicy Ominis on the way!

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but with a brief moment of dry hump!ng || characters are in college and over 18.

Word Count: 1.9k

The girl groaned as the webpage loaded, displaying a measly 70% on the essay she had submitted last week, the one that had taken her hours of research to complete. 3 months into it, and her first semester wasn’t turning out to be the fun experience she thought it was going to be. Granted, she knew there was more to college than parties, but she also didn’t think her classes would be this difficult, especially having done so well in high school. 

Right now, there were only two things bringing her joy in her freshman life. The first thing being her Sorority - her sisters being some of the best people she had met in her time in college so far. Although the Sorority president, Imelda Reyes, absolutely hated her, she mostly left her alone. The second thing was her relationship with sophomore, popular boy, and campus Fraternity’s president - Ominis Gaunt. 

On the surface, Ominis seemed like the most stereotypical hot, rich, Frat boy - His family donated tons of money to the university over the years, and were friends with the Dean’s family. All of the male Gaunts had attended the school, and they all served as Fraternity president the entire time they were in attendance. Everyone respected Ominis and his social status. Nobody dared to cross him, or even think about making fun of his blindness, which he had since birth. All the boys wanted to be his friend, and all the girls wanted to be his girlfriend (hence Imelda’s hatred). 

Being Ominis Gaunt came with a lot of power, and being Ominis Gaunt’s girlfriend came with a power of its own. She met him on a Friday after her first week, was in his bed by Saturday, and was in the Sorority by Monday. There was no bullying or freshman hazing for her with Ominis on her arm.

Despite the quickness at which their relationship developed, they were very happy. Ominis was an amazing boyfriend - never afraid to show her off, and being supportive during her first semester of college. Of course there were some things he could not prepare her for, and this crappy grade was one of those things. The girl slammed her laptop shut, grabbed her jacket, and left the Sorority house. 

She walked the short distance from the Sorority house to the Frat house, where she let herself inside with her key; another perk of being Ominis Gaunt’s girlfriend. As she passed the kitchen, she found Garreth Weasley, her friend from high school, raiding the fridge. 

She shot Garreth a smile before she made her way upstairs to Ominis’s room, which she found empty. She knew he had a big exam today, so this wasn’t surprising. Between this exam and her essay, the couple had barely seen each other the past few days. She tossed herself on his bed, which was dressed with emerald green satin sheets, and waited, eventually dozing off. 

She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep for, but she was violently awoken when she heard the sound of Ominis’s room door slamming shut. She sat up to see her boyfriend tossing his school bag on the floor in frustration. 

“Babe, are you okay?” 

Ominis looked up in the direction of her voice, seemingly having not noticed she was there. “Oh, darling! I didn’t realize you were here. I…I didn’t do so great on that exam.” There was sadness in his voice. Despite Ominis’s status, he was incredibly smart and took his studies very seriously, so not doing well on an exam was not easy for him.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry!” She threw her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t do well on my essay either. Why don’t we do something fun tonight, to get our minds off our terrible day!”

Ominis pulled back, a smile now gracing his beautiful face. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, my dear! Let me take a shower and then we can plan our evening.”

She looked on as Ominis began to strip down, fighting the urge to pounce on him right then and there. Her eyes studied his body as he undressed - his toned arms, fit stomach, the trail of dark blonde hair below his belly button, lower. 

She shook her head to pull herself out of her inappropriate thoughts, grateful that he couldn’t see the way she was ogling him as he wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the room. Not wanting to wait around in his bedroom, she headed downstairs, where she found Garreth in the common area, devouring a bowl of pasta. 

“Is everything alright? I saw Gaunt seemed pretty upset when he got here.” he asked with a mouth full of food. 

She rolled her eyes at Garreth’s terrible manners, and went on to explain the horrible day they both had. As she spoke, Garreth continued to eat his spaghetti, and it gave her an idea. 

“That really sucks!” Garreth said through another mouthful of food. “A few of us guys are going to the movies tonight, and then we’re going to get some beers. I know Ominis can’t actually see the movie, but he likes to listen to them. You’re welcome to tag along!”

“Thanks for the offer, Weasley but we’ll pass. We have plans tonight anyway!”

“Well, make sure nobody catches you here after 10. You know you’re not allowed to be here after 10!” Garreth said the last bit in a mocking tone while she laughed, knowing full well that Ominis never followed that rule. 

When she made her way back upstairs, she found Ominis getting dressed. She once again ogled him as he put on a satin black button-down, which he paired with black skinny jeans. He paused for a moment before chuckling. 

“You know, I can feel you staring at me again.”

She let out a bashful laugh. “Sorry baby, I can’t help it, you’re just so pretty to look at.”

Ominis smiled. “Heard that a few of the guys were going out to a movie. Figured we could go and then I can take you to dinner afterwards.”

“Actually, I thought maybe we could stay in. We’ve got the entire house to ourselves after all! I thought I could cook us some dinner!”

She didn’t have much skill when it came to cooking, the roles of house chefs belonging to Garreth and a girl named Poppy in her house, but she was eager to do something fun for Ominis, and she hoped it would take both their minds off their bad day. 

“Oh darling, that would be lovely!”

–

It was not lovely. Twenty minutes in and she had already shattered a bowl, dropped raw chicken on the floor, and spilled pasta sauce on herself. Despite the chaos she declined help, Ominis having shouted “Darling, are you alright? Do you need any help?” three times in the short time she had been in the kitchen. 

Her luck began to turn around, or so she thought, when she successfully had two chicken breasts cooking nicely on the stove. She then turned her attention to a pot she had filled with water that was starting to boil. She grabbed a handful of spaghetti, not bothering to measure if it was an appropriate amount for two people, and tossed it into the water. Figuring she had some time before she’d need to return to her pasta, she headed over to the common area to find Ominis on the couch. 

“How’s it going, my beautiful chef?” 

“It’s FINALLY going alright!” she giggled as she straddled his lap, her arms coming up around his neck. 

“I’m so glad. I can’t wait to taste what you’ve got cooking for us!” Ominis placed his arms on her back, pulling her against his chest as his lips found hers. Their tongues danced, and after a few seconds, her hips started moving, grinding against his lap. She began to moan softly against his lips as Ominis’s hands shot up her skirt, taking hold of her ass. He guided her as she grinded her center against the growing bulge in his pants. 

Her hands moved from Ominis’s neck to his chest as she began to open the buttons on his shirt when he abruptly pulled away from her lips, sniffing the air around him. “Darling, do you smell that? It smells like - “

“Oh shit!” She shouted as she jumped off of her boyfriend’s lap, running to the kitchen. The fire alarm began to blare as she was met with the sight of her dry spaghetti on fire. She began to panic, frantically opening cabinets until she found the pot’s lid, slamming the lid on to the pot, forcing the flames to smother. It took the pair several minutes to free the room of smoke, the girl bursting into tears once they had finished. 

“I’m so sorry Ominis! I just wanted to do something nice for us after the horrible day we had. I’m so sorry I ruined dinner and made things worse!”

Ominis planted a kiss on her forehead before pulling his sobbing girlfriend into his arms. “Nonsense darling, the effort alone was more than enough. No matter how bad my day is, once I’m with you, it all fades away. I love you, sweetheart! It’s okay! I promise. We can always order a pizza.”

“I feel the same way. You make even the worst days amazing.” She sniffled. “I love you, Ominis.”

–

One hour and one pizza pie later, the couple was snuggled on the couch watching tv. Drowsiness began to overtake the girl, as she let out a yawn. 

“Do you mind if I hop in your shower? I’m getting sleepy.”

“Of course. Just give me a moment!” 

Without another word, Ominis walked off, walking stick in hand, leaving her on the couch. She thought nothing of it, figuring he just wanted to use the bathroom, or perhaps clean it up before she went in; that is until she heard Ominis calling her name from the bathroom upstairs.

She pulled open the bathroom door to find a bubble bath waiting for her, the smell of lavender and roses wafting through the air, and Ominis already in the tub. 

“Ominis!” she exclaimed, the sweet gesture almost making her cry.

“Get in darling, before the water gets cold! And before the rest of the guys get back.”

She was about to undress when she was hit with another, less dangerous idea than her last one. She left the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a bottle of wine and a carton of strawberries. 

The couple soaked in their bath, playing with the bubbles, drinking the wine straight from the bottle, and feeding each other strawberries. As Ominis began to massage shampoo into his girlfriend’s scalp, she reminisced about the terrible day she had, and how it turned around so quickly thanks to Ominis. She was so grateful for him and she found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him with each passing day. Ominis felt the same, wondering to himself what he would do without her in his life. He loved her more than anything else in the world.

They finished in the bath just in time to hear the sound of the boys returning home. Not wanting to hear their complaints of “why are you allowed to have a girl here after hours and we can’t?”, Ominis quickly brought her back to his bedroom, where they got ready to call it a night. 

After changing into one of his oversized shirts and nothing else, she joined him in bed, nuzzling into him as he wrapped his arms around her. As they snuggled, Ominis forgot about the exam he failed, and she forgot about the paper she bombed. They both just focused on each other’s breathing until they drifted off to sleep. 

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