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christinesficrecs · 1 year

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Hey do you know any fics that explore the hale family and their dynamics as a pack? Of course sterek but I’d love some world building…

There is this tag and also this one. Also, The Searching Ceremonies by KouriArashi

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi | 156.7K | Mature

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn't expect and aren't sure they approve of....

Weave Soft Spells Over My Sight by AgnesBlue | 51.4K | Mature

Derek had blossomed steadily over the past year, growing into his ears and turning even more handsome, if that were possible. But instead of going out and melting the panties off the girls, suddenly he was coming to Stiles all bashed in, demanding that he patch him up like Stiles was some freelance nurse. It was a familiar pattern by now.

Bonds of Blood, Bonds of Family, Bonds of Love by TyReed | 44K | Mature

After being beaten up by a door, werewolf Stiles Stilinksi finds himself bonded to Derek Hale, of the Hale Noble Bloodline. For a scrawny, wimpy, Tainted Bloodline werewolf, Stiles runs away, embarrassed and humiliated as he worries about bringing shame to the Hale Family, and even more shame to himself. Because the Nobles and Tainted just don't mix, never have, never will.

Except, things aren't exactly what they seem.

With the help of the (meddling) Hale family, his adoptive (meddling) human parents John and Claudia Stilinksi, and one very persistent Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles might come to see himself as more than just the blood that runs through his veins, and open his heart to find the happiness, friends, pack, and the family that he'd always wanted.

Hale’s Modern Encyclopedia of Playing Cards (and Dating Humans) by thepsychicclam | 49.6K | Mature

Wolves don't date humans. And Derek's okay with that. He's got his Pack, his friends in the Pack network, and lacrosse. Plus, he plays cards with his grandma all the time. Stiles Stilinski definitely doesn't factor into his life - no matter how much of a crush Derek has on him.

But when bird creatures attack Derek, Stiles, and their friends in the Preserve, Stiles finds out about werewolves and things get pretty complicated. For Derek at least. And he thought school was his only problem, but now he's grounded and Stiles is hanging around way too much for Derek to ignore him any longer.

Now as Ever (All That Is and Has Been) by venis_envy | 52.2K | Explicit

Stiles can't remember what happened to rearrange the time-space continuum, or how he ended up being pulled into the past. All he knows is that he's there now, in 2003 Beacon Hills, with a teenage werewolf and a possibly-crazy veterinarian as his only allies.

Ain't Nothing so Good as the Cake and Eating it by sofonisba_found | 51K | Mature

Derek thinks he's doing alright in life, with his family at his side and a job he loves. Despite his family's concerns he remains adamant that he doesn't need a mate, afraid to take the risk of letting anyone close enough to try to hurt his family again. That is until he realizes that his true mate has been right under his nose for years, and that now through his inaction he may lose him.

Gravity's Got Nothing on You by zosofi | 83.9 | Explicit

Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

Safe Place to Land by Green | 19.2K

The Hales have been tracking a group of hunters who've targeted small packs with the help of a magic user. When they finally attack the hunter compound, they aren't expecting to find Stiles, a Spark who's practically a slave, and his young werewolf son. Derek isn't expecting the Spark to be his mate, either.

Northern Blues by kaistrex (weishen) | 40.6K | Explicit

When the Hale pack transitions to a new Alpha, Stiles is thrilled to be assigned to Beacon Hills to try out as their new Emissary. He and his dad are immediately enamoured with the idyllic little town, fitting right in with the rest of the Hales – except for Derek. The new Alpha shows no signs of welcome, but it will be hard for him to stay stubborn in the face of his family’s encouragement and a sentient house that has plans for the two of them whether Derek likes it or not.

Of Course It's Fairies by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | 100.2K

While still suffering from the after effects of the Nogitsune, Stiles and the pack stumble upon and save a trapped fairy. The boy's parents, not wanting to be in the pack’s debt, offer each member of the pack who assisted in the rescue, the opportunity to bring a loved one back from the dead.

Having been blissfully reunited with several of their once-lost friends and family members, everyone must work together to figure out how to function as a new pack, and how to defeat a new incoming threat.

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #alive hale family #ivtpwk #pack dynamics #werewolf culture

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danceylancey · 1 year

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In an attempt to help each of them work with each other better they decide to do a mind meld. It will, at random, put all of them into one of their memories. The five of them agree at various levels of confidence, Lance the most uneasy and only agreeing after Coran gave them a device that would signal that wanted to leave and swore to respect it. It starts of well enough, they get to see Hunk with his family as his dad works on a car and tells his son he doesn’t have to do manly things to be a man. His dad tells him that being a man means good and kind, decent to those around you. He tells his son that he doesn’t give a damn if he wants to cook or fly or whatever, as long as he’s true to himself his father will always be proud of him. Next they see Pidge having argument with her brother only for him to spin it around and comfort her. The memory ends with them getting into a tickle fight. Shiro and Keith have a similar memory of their first meeting, though for Shiro it’s Adam joking with him about picking up strays and having a teachers pet and for Keith it’s the jump on their bikes. When the next memory forms they find themselves in an abandoned street looking at a corner store. It’s window is smashed and it’s clearly been looted, the rest of the street is in a similar state. A car nearby looks as if it’s been exploded. They all look around, wondering whose memory they his could be. Before they can question anything aloud, two people come sneaking out of an ally and behind the burnt up car. There’s a girl who looks like she’s close to eighteen and a little boy who could be eight, both have dark tanned skin and rumpled, torn clothing. Pidge asks if it’s Lance, but the other doesn’t respond. They’re all too caught up in the scene before them to notice his uncharacteristic silence. The boy and girl go into the store while looking around, as if waiting to be spotted. The girl starts grabbing objects, mainly canned food, tape and some other odds. The boy crouches behind the low wall and peeks through some broken glass, on watch. He’s breathing heavily and his little hands are shaking as he wipes his face from snot and dirt. The girl suddenly drops her bag, contents clanging down. They watch as she backs ups it’s her hands in the air, a man with military like uniform stumbles forward with his gun drawn. He’s grinning but stumbling, possibly drunk. He speaks in a language they don’t know, but by the way he grabs his crotch it’s clear what his intentions are. Their all watching in shock, waiting for something to happen. The girl speaks, a few tears going down her face as she does. Then, so suddenly it makes them all jump, a shot rings out. It’s silenced but still clear. The man cries out and falls back, looking at his slowly bleeding shoulder and looks towards the shooter. They all turn to look at where the little boy had been and find him holding a large pistol, bugger than his forearm. The man shouts something and stumbles away as the girl rushes over to the boy and grabs the gun, pointing it at the fleeing man and shooting again. The man falls instantly, like a rag doll. A headshot. The girl turns to the boy and pulls him ive to her bag as she works faster to recollect her things so they can flee. This time when she speaks in its English, “you shot his shoulder.” It’s both a statement and an accusation. The boy, now silently crying, looks ashamed as he says, “I’m sorry, I missed.” The girl scoffs but then turns serious and tells him with a cold voice, “you never miss. If you can’t kill someone, they will kill you. That’s how the world works, Lance.” The boy, Lance, nods and looks over at the dead body. The two flee, the girl getting the soldiers gun and spitting on his body. By then their all looking at Lance, whose face is blank but eyes are filled with a deep sadness. Without a word, he presses his panic button.

#lance mcclain #lance centric #langst

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contrivedchaos · 1 month

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So Sera and Carmilla after Carmilla falls keep seeing each other why let a little thing like treason and banishment get in the way of a good relationship. Sera makes portals and sneaks to hell they spend some time together usually in bed it's pretty casual it's not like they can do that much but it goes on for a few thousand years till Carmilla breaks it off someone in hell asked her out and she likes him and well she knows what she and Sera has can grow into something more. Sera knew it would happen eventually and doesn't hold any bad feelings to Carmilla she deserves to have a real relationship not a once a month liaison. They go their separate ways Sera raises up the ranks of heaven gets Emily to care for and is very successful if a bit lonely while Carmilla starts dating this guy and marries him they have Odette and Clara and she grows her empire. Than suddenly her husband dies somehow (stares at Sera. I'm kidding she wouldn't murder her ex's husband that is too evil and would make Carmilla sad. She was happy when she heard the news than felt guilty about being happy.) More years pass Carmilla adjusts to being a widow and single mom while running her empire and Sera keeps climbing the ranks of heaven. Carmilla starts to feel lonely and eventually askes Sera if she would like to meet up. (Sera has a similar reaction to the phone call as Lucifer had to Charlie's though she doesn't answer the phone like he did.) They meet up and well get back together as they had been before though now they occasionally do dates as well either Sera disguised in hell or Carmilla disguised going back to heaven. The girls all suspect something is up with their mom/sisters her monthly night where she can not be distributed but have no idea.

Yeeeeeeeessssss! We love a good covert rendezvous between lovers-who-should-be-enemies. If anyone powerful in Heaven found out, they would probably face serious consequences, but they do it anyway, because they love each other! They always have! 😭😭

Carmilla probably thought she was doing the right thing by ending things with Sera. When they were lower on the totem polls of their respective societies, it was easier to get away with seeing each other. But once Sera started taking on more responsibility as a Seraphim, and allowed Adam to do his Exterminations every year, it drove a rift between them. Carmilla thought that it would be better to go their separate ways -- she couldn't justify continuing a relationship with the person allowing her people to be slaughtered.

Eventually she met Clara and Odette's father, another overlord who was allied with Zestial, who was also rising up in the ranks in Hell. They started a relationship and were able to cobble together a comfortable life. They started Carmine Industries, she took his last name, and they had the girls. Maybe at some point he got careless and was killed during an Extermination, and Carmilla never fully recovered. That's why she's so tough on her girls to always be careful, never takes risks, and rules over her empire with an iron fist. She doesn't want to lose anyone else.

But she's not immune to loneliness, and while Zestial is still around, and they are very dear friends, she misses her husband and that close companionship. In a moment of weakness, she calls Sera, who doesn't answer at first. But Carmilla keeps trying, and starts leaving messages that she wants to speak. When they do finally talk, Sera confides in her that Heaven isn't all it's cracked up to be. She has a job to do, but it brings her no joy, and now her only purpose is making sure Emily is safe. She and Carmilla find common ground on wanting to protect their girls, and spend long hours talking before finally agreeing to try again. Except it's even more dangerous this time, because they are both in positions of power. Emily, Odette, and Clara eventually find out, and agree to watch their backs and cover for them. But how long can they keep this going before one or both are found out?

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #carmilla hazbin hotel #sera hazbin hotel #zestial hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #odette hazbin hotel #ask #anon #fan theories #sera x carmilla #carmilla x sera

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deepfriedhopesanddreams · 9 months

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Another part of the Vacation arc! ( Apparently, Tumblr just keeps cutting it shorter and shorter for both me and Bloom😢, so close...)

Kat: *chuckles* *sends meatball pun to group chat*

Everyone: .... Seriously?...

Kat : what? It's funny!

*Kabiguan opens the zipper on the bag and looks inside. He's happy to see the botbots, every bot realises that... No one knew what happened earlier inside the infinity mall. To the human allies, it's just nothing. Every bot agrees to keep this to themselves.

The human allies dropped off Kat and Marvin and continued their vacation.*

Marcus: alright everyone! We only have a few more days left

(@deepfriedhopesanddreams : and literally limited reblogs for me and Bloom)

Marcus: how about we speed things up?

Everyone: yea-

Cosmopatty: yeah! Montage! *Snaps fingers*

Everyone: Aaaaahhhhhh!!!! Who are you-

*Everyone was experiencing a montage. They took photos, but they can't remember how.... They kept going and going until the final day of their vacation*

Gabby: whoo! That was fun! That was... That was fast... Do you guys remember anything?...

Everyone: no/not really/ what's going on?

Gregory: okay that bot over there is responsible

Cosmopatty: what? I'm only helping my boss

Dave: wait who's your-

Cosmopatty: buh bye! *Flies back into the bag*

Hiraya: okay... That happened...

Raven: okay, she ruined our fun!

Todd: but at least we got pictures?

Marcus: yeah, and it's our last day, let's just.... Go home...

*Rough Ride was about to drive back. But Cosmopatty just has to intervene and snap their finger again. In an instant, they went back like it was minutes*

Rough Ride: how the- what the fu- damn... I thought we're already off the "eldritch bull####t" hook, damn

Gabby: yeah... What's going on- oh hey, it's my mom's gardening store!

*they were right in front of Evelyn's Gardening store, she was about to close.*

Evelyn: what the... Back so soon?

Gabby: hi mom!

Evelyn: hi sweetie!-

*Gabby stepped out of Rough Ride to give her mom a hug. Box followed behind Gabby. Evelyn had a frown on her face*

Evelyn: oh, your father's gift is... Floating...

Gabby: oh yeah it's a long story...

Box: Eve...

Evelyn: Adam?

Dave: wait your name's not Taurus?

Kabiguan: *sticks his head out* oh! Is that "Mom"?

Evelyn: !!! , A transformer?! Wait ... Mom?...

Gabby: it's also a long story-

Cosmopatty: I hate "long stories", let me help again! *Claps his hands*

Everyone: ...

Hiraya: what did you do?...

Cosmopatty: mmm maybe you should check on the mall... The mall that Dave works at, not the food mall

*Everyone was confused. They don't have much time to explain it to Evelyn. Rough Ride suddenly moved by herself, she wasn't in control. Driving over a safety barrier and several familiar looking vehicles. She drove close to the mall. But something isn't right...

Agents... Lot's of them, surrounding the mall. They hand this odd wire around the mall, like securing it. The human allies quickly hid somewhere, they got closer to listen in any of them. What is going on?*

Agent Wagner: are you sure?

Agent Mordecai: affirmative, look *shows her the energon tracker* see this? This place... Is contaminated with energon...

*Everyone was shocked, there's energon residue?*

Agent Mordecai: ... Alright, men, do it now

*one of the agents flips some switches. A large surge of shock was activated. The wires shake violently. Suddenly, the ground begins to shake.

A large arm emerges out of the mall then another, the whole mall begins to transform, it was a Titan... Everyone's eyes grew wide at his presence. He was in absolute pain, the shock hurt him so much, he tried to stand up but the tough wires kept him down. The agents started to fire at him, this made things even worse. They began to fire missiles at him. He manages to throw one away, but it crashed into Evelyn's Gardening store*

Evelyn: oh no!-

*back at the parking lot*

Gabby: oh boy, I hope that missile didn't hit a civilian...

*the Titan struggles to move, everything hurts*

Marcus: what are we going to do?! This is bad

#transformers botbots #working on a transformers au #botbots #tf botbots #box au #botbots oc

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berniecranes · 8 months

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One thing that kind have irked me a little bit is John's views in the game. No, not the fundamentals I disagree with, as that is obvious. But the inconsistencies with what they built up for him. They're minor details, it doesn't really change much, but excuse this ramble I am going into. It's going to be talking about the VW, and some of the tactics used in it, so I want to give a full warning for this.

Also I want to preface this as this is not to defend John. I have been more than adamant on the fact that John is a scary, shitty, C*A Officer regardless of anything else.

As you may know, John makes a passing comment to Lincoln about how LBJ is handling the war. He says "President Johnson is a goddamn pussy. He started that war, he should finish it." which clearly shows John, a. Puts blame on LBJ for pushing the war, obviously being lighter towards Jack's actions earlier on. Whether he is a believer that Jack wouldn't have escalated the war, or he wouldn't have had it get this bad/would have handled it better, that is up for debate. And b. He wants it to end. Which is an obvious, I think assuming him and Lincoln want this war to be over makes sense. But, especially with the idea he was a C*A Officer; because at this time, the C*A and M*litary were not hand in hand allies, as I believe that happened either with N*xon or the 80s, I cannot remember fully right now. They often opposed views. And with this, the C*A believing they "ACTUALLY want to the end the war"; whereas the m*litary wants "glory." Now, I would like to point out, just because John wants the war to end doesn't make him anti-war. As we hear how he feels abt anti-war protesters. Clearly he still believes they should do their """civic duty""" or whatever. Regardless of if you're happy with it or not, or be quiet and go along with it, I guess.

But this really is where my biggest gripe comes in. John says the way to end the war is "filling up the sky with B-52s" AKA, keep bombing V*etnam. This has been the tactic that has been FAILING. LBJ has been critiqued even in his own Party that he needs to stop the bombing & to start negotiations. But the thing with LBJ, he is too stubborn likes to do things his way. And, do you know who opposed continuous bombing? The C*A. While I know clearly not EVERYONE did, but then tell me why....when they established John is unhappy with how things are going, especially with what LBJ is doing.....WHY he would be pro the tactics that ISN'T working? UGH! It just makes no sense to me. And to go on and continue to mock him when he haults the bombings? Like hello?

And no, I do not believe he would want N*xon or whatever because I still do believe he is a democrat. I think his staunch support for Jack should definitely still be noted. He wouldn't go SO hard for a politician he believed in...if he didn't believe in him you know? Remember John is a man of this time, he's an actively present adult. He isn't looking at it 60 yrs later, he's looking at it in the moment. I think it's more than fair to say his frustration of LBJ doesn't show he is suddenly against him or whatever. Because they're just that; frustrations. Especially in the conference, we see how the war fucked with John and how he feels about everything as a whole. But it is true, the handling of the war overshadowed literally EVERYTHING LBJ did. And I'm not saying that is a bad thing, when your screw up (putting that lightly) is a literal mass killing of an entire group of people, that is GONNA be the focus of what you did. Oh, but with the line where John says if Jack was still around N*xon wouldn't be president. I believe that is a rather loaded answer, not as simple as Jack would be elected, because he couldn't have been, it would already be 2nd term. The plan always would have been Bobby would try after Jack, then Teddy. But I think he still holds a lot of his hopes in what the nation could have been with him, and truly feels Am*rica "lost its way" or whatever. But yeah, I think it's clear he still is aligned this way regardless of the many wrong things John does or say.

Like I mentioned, this is by no means me defending him or the C*A, as they were doing terrible shit. As we know the Ph*onix Pr*gram (which to remind you, M3 has John AND Lincoln involved in that for some reason...) exists, and many other things are public about their doings there. I just think this shows how the game lacks to really show anyone's core views or thoughts. Instead of using John as a way to show the many different views, they should have stuck to one and have him do that. Instead, they went with this, something that literally makes NO sense.

Below the cut are all the John lines I mentioned and also a passage or two from the book V*etnam: A History by St*nley K*rnow

Added in alt text so hopefully they're all easier to read, I apologize abt the book pictures, they were taken last year in the middle of me reading so often I just got a quick pic and continued on, aha

#conference anniversary day?! perfect time to finally fomulate my thoughts on something that has bother me for awhile aha #also not to mention!!! john had been assigned there EARLY since '61 which should only deepen his opinion of the current strategy NOT workin #m3 etc #sorry this was a long one #i hope it makes sense #mafia (game) —#just max ramblin'

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allylikethecat · 9 months

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If you're not too sick of them I would love if you could do gatty with 7 or 46 ♥️

Hello!

I could never be sick of this whole prompt situation! I've been having so much fun working on them! I do want to apologize though, I'm sorry that this took so long for me to finish - real life got in my way. I hope it was worth the wait! I filled them both separately, I hope that's okay- I like to think it means you're getting more bang for your buck! I'm not totally sure I love how #46 turned out, but I decided I need to stop fiddling with it and just put it out into the world and move on. I hope it's at least adjacent to what you were looking for! I have a few more kiss prompts in the works, a few intimacy prompts and a smut prompt (which is an area I need to work on in my writing, so it shall be interesting to say the least).

Thank you so much for the request and for being so kind and supportive of my writing! It really means a lot and I am so thankful to have found such a kind and supportive subset of The 1975 fandom to be apart of.

Warnings: there is mention of drug use / mention of past abuse in #46

Let me know what you think! Constructive feedback is always welcome and appreciated!

❤️Ally

7. Kiss…to shut them up

Matty had been talking for the last twenty three minutes. George knew exactly how long his latest tangent had run so far, having glanced at and made note of the time ticking away in the corner of his laptop screen when he noticed the flush in Matty’s cheeks and the fire in his eyes. So far he had barely taken a breath and George had given up trying to follow the track of his thoughts twenty two minutes ago. He was gesturing wildly with his hands, getting louder and more animated as he spoke, clearly building up the momentum, and getting more excited as he went. George tried not to feel too bad that he had been tuning him out, nodding along and humming in approval in what he hoped were the right places, his focus on his laptop, and the seemingly endless amount of emails he had in his inbox. No one told him that producing for other artists would mean going through so many emails.

If for some reason the musical career ended up not panning out, which after five number one albums in the UK was unlikely, Matty could have a career as an American politician, George thought, he would be unstoppable in a filibuster, and he had already mastered the art of speaking constantly while saying a whole lot of nothing. He closed his laptop, hoping that maybe Matty would catch on, see that George was closing his laptop and that maybe that was his sign to take a breath, and that it was time to meet Adam and Carly for lunch, but Matty was still going, pacing around the room that served as their home office.

“Which ties it all together!” Matty said, waving his hands in the air as George turned to look at him fondly, his curls bouncing as he drove his point home. George had absolutely no idea what his point was. “Because despite what the critics might think, it really is the perfect example of postmodernism in literature-” George couldn’t take it anymore.

Matty let out a surprised hum of approval as George crashed their lips together, sucking the air from his lungs as he deepened the kiss, running his fingers through his hair, tugging on the locks in a way that he knew made Matty weak at the knees. Matty broke away a moment later, panting with his nose pressed to George’s cheek as he tried to regain his breath.

“What was that f-” he started to ask before George was kissing him again, licking into his mouth, and nipping at his lower lip. His knees buckled, overwhelmed by the way George was consuming all of his senses. George walked him backwards, pressing him against the wall, and suddenly it didn’t matter that his legs didn’t work anymore. He had George to support him.

“You’re so cute,” George said and Matty flushed his cheeks darkening into an even deeper shade of red and he squirmed bashfully at the praise. He kissed Matty again, his eyes rolling back in his head as he clung to George’s shoulders, letting out a soft whimper of enjoyment.

“I love you,” George said softly, speaking the words against Matty’s lips, their breath intermingled as Matty’s heart raced, his fingers drifting lower, digging into the meat of George’s hips as if he would float away if he let go.

“I love you too,” Matty said softly, his cheeks still flushed. ��I was rambling again wasn’t I?” he asked sheepishly, realizing George hadn’t been listening to a word he had been saying, but not able to bring himself to care.

“A little bit,” said George with a chuckle, the sound vibrating in Matty’s chest with the way they were pressed together. “It was cute though, and you’ll have to tell me again over lunch, I got distracted finishing up some emails and I’m sure I missed a few of the points.”

Matty’s flush deepened. “Well, next time just tell me to shut up,” he said, jutting his chin out defiantly.

“What do you think I just did?” George said, with a laugh, this one deeper, and Matty curled his toes in desire as he kissed his neck.

“I’m sorry I talk so much,” said Matty, feeling a moment of vulnerability as George mouthed at his collarbone, nose skimming the open collar of his shirt.

“Don’t ever be sorry for that,” George said, his lips ghosting against Matty’s sensitive, burning skin. “I love it when you talk.”

“Even when you want me to shut up?” Matty asked softly and George chuckled and nodded his breath tickling Matty’s neck.

“Even then.”

46. Kiss…out of envy or jealousy

Matty swallowed hard, standing on his tiptoes as he scanned the crowd, desperate for a glimpse of George. He reached up to tug uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt, loosening his tie ever so slightly as he did so, feeling strangled by the fabric as he floated on the fringes of the after party. These things were much more uncomfortable sober, he thought desperately, he was pretty sure he was the only person not on something at the moment.

Even George had smoked a spliff during the car ride to the next venue. Matty had declined when George tried to pass it to him, under the delusion that he wanted to keep a clear head. He was already feeling paranoid, like he was being watched. Each breath he had taken was carefully measured at the awards show, a conscious effort to keep his expression engaged and mild lest the camera pan to their table. If he had accepted the spliff he would have been convinced everyone could tell, that everyone knew he was high, that instead of legal marjuana he had relapsed, had gone back to the substances they didn’t even know he was clean from. He swallowed hard. Where the fuck was George?

It was a stark contrast to his previous party experiences, his previous life experiences really. He couldn’t remember the last party he had been at, industry or otherwise without some kind of A Class chemical racing through his blood stream, lubricating his social interactions, giving him a personality. He felt almost numb now, anxiety thudding in his chest, simmering in his veins as he tried to remember who he was and how to be a person.

A server walked past with a tray of champagne flutes and Matty snagged a glass with shaking hands, downing it quickly. Where the fuck was George? He thought, starting to feel frantic. He had gone to the washroom ten minutes ago. It shouldn’t have taken him ten minutes to piss. There was never a queue for the men’s room. Matty had given him a smile and said he would be fine on his own, not wanting to seem so needy and codependent that he had to follow his boyfriend to the bathroom. He was a strong independent man, he tried to remind himself. He felt anything but.

He thought for sure he would be able to find someone he knew easily enough, but they were in America and he was starting to realize maybe he didn’t actually know anyone else here. If he had met them before, it was during the dark times and he clearly didn’t remember the interaction. He knew he seemed unapproachable, curls falling his face, eyes downcast, the charismatic spark that drew their fanbase to him having flickered out as he pushed himself out of his comfort zone. He knew he radiated a general air of “leave me the fuck alone,” especially when he was desperate for anything but. He hated being sober. He hated that he had gotten clean, that he felt some kind of moral obligation to stay that way, that the rest of the lads had spent their own money on his treatment after he had nearly bankrupted the group with his addiction.

He fiddled with his now empty champagne glass and wished for something stronger, or wished that he hadn’t built up such a high alcohol tolerance over the years, because despite his size he felt absolutely nothing after quickly finishing the glass. A second server walked passed and he traded his empty flute for a full one, drinking this one more slowly, giving him something to do with his hands, allowing him to focus on the feeling of the bubbles fizzing against his tongue, grounding him, keeping him present. That was something he was working on in therapy. Staying more present.

His frustration and anxiety started to move, turning to frustration and envy. George had probably ran into some he knew on his way to or from the restroom. George had probably bumped into someone and made a friend, the words flowing easily as he introduced himself. Matty knew that he had a reputation for being an extrovert, that he was the mouthpiece of the band whether people liked it or not. Whether he liked it or not. But George was the one that could talk to anyone, a casual sort of comfortable in any social situation that Matty wasn’t ever able to recreate despite the copious drugs he had poured into his body, desperate to be liked, desperate to be cool.

He was jealous, he realized sharply, he was jealous and it burned in his belly as he swallowed the rest of his champagne and set the glass on one of the high top tables scattered around the space, pushing his way through the crowd. Being jealous wasn’t going to solve anything, being jealous wasn’t going to make people like him, it wasn’t going to quell the anxiety embedded in his rapidly beating heart. Being jealous wasn’t going to make George come back to him faster.

He caught a glimpse of what he hoped was George moving through the crowd, talking to some kind of teen drama actress that had been a presenter at the show earlier that night. The jealousy flared, moving up his throat, blistering his vocal cords, he tried to swallow it down, feeling it molten and hot in his lungs. George threw his head back and laughed, smiling happily. George had gone and made a friend, George had abandoned him, like Matty was nothing more than an anchor weighing him down. George had gone and cut the rode, untangling himself from his mooring to forge his own path.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, his feet moving on his own accord, it was like he was watching his body move from somewhere above, something, or someone else was controlling him like a recently unlocked newly playable character. Matty slid into position next to George, hand gliding across his back under his suit jacket to wrap possessively around his hip.

He stood up on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of George’s mouth, interrupting whatever he had been saying to the wide eyed peroxide blonde.

George chuckled against his lips, turning his head to deepen the kiss, showing Matty that despite his initiation, George was the one holding all of the cards.

“Someones feeling a little green,” he murmured, soft enough that it was for Matty’s ears only as he pulled away.

“This is my boyfriend Matty,” said George, turning back to the girl, “he’s needy little shit and gets jealous when I’m not giving him my full attention.”

Matty flushed at his teasing words, the bit behind them stinging slightly, but at the same time making him preen. The girl laughed.

“What can I say,” said Matty, leaning into George’s side. “I’m the jealous type.”

#allylikethecat #ask ally #anon ask #fanfiction #fanfic #matty healy rpf #the 1975 rpf #matty healy fanfiction #kiss prompts #prompt fills #prompt fill #prompt fill request things #questions #answers

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prurientpuddlejumper · 2 years

Text

Through the bars, part 2

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Laura Kearney x Travis Hackett

Summary: Laura begs Travis for sex, even though her motives for it are questionable.

Warnings: NSFW/18+ only! Dubious consent (prisoner seducing captor), Dom/sub vibes, oral sex, p in v sex, unsafe sex (to the point of almost being breeding kink), cuckolding/cheating, just overall super questionable situation

Tagging: @merakiaes (I would ask who else wants to be tagged for Travis x Laura fics but this is prooobably the last chapter?)

3,328 words

Max slept long and deep the next morning, exhausted by the change, and he kept sleeping soundly even when Travis – Sheriff Hackett – brought breakfast down. You were lying awake on your cot, untangling the information overload from last night. He stared at you intently with those dark eyes, as if trying to determine something. His lids rode heavily down his eyes, his entire bearing weathered with exhaustion from the long night.

“What?” you snapped before your cheeks got any hotter.

He lowered the tray of food to the floor, slid it under the bars, and left without saying anything.

“Weirdo.”

A half-hour later came the familiar clicking of his shoes back down the stairs to retrieve the tray. It was routine after a month of imprisonment, usually done in cold silence. This morning, he gave a friendly smile as he took it. Then frowned and nodded gravely as he turned to leave.

Then he pivoted on his heel, and with a voice softened by nervous energy, asked, “Do you want to shower?”

If you had been drinking coffee, it would have sprayed out your mouth.

Not that he didn’t normally let you shower, but the way he asked… He had no idea how to act around you anymore. Which, granted, was confusing for you, too, at this point. Were you enemies? Allies? Lovers? But you delighted in the rare occasions when he got flustered, perhaps because only one thing seemed to faze him.

“I see,” you purred, letting your hips swing like a pendulum as you took a few steps toward the bars. Your fingers popped loose a button on your shirt. “You want to see me naked, that it?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “What?”

“That pat-down you gave me last night…. You wanted to keep going, didn’t you? Wanted to fuck me...”

“That wasn’t—just so you can clean the blood off—you don’t…” his flustered rambling trailed off. “Oh.”

You suddenly stood straighter.

A smug smile tugged the curve of his lips. “You were thinking about it.”

How dare he read you like a book? “N-no!” You definitely weren’t imagining his hands and what they could do to you all night. He was supposed to be wrapped around your finger, dammit! “It’s just…” you resumed your coquettish act, “now would be the perfect time to fuck me, while Max is sleeping it off.”

A frown darkened his features. “Max, your boyfriend,” he arched an accusing brow.

“Yeah. Kind of. I guess.” You fixed him with a glare. “He isn’t much of my anything right now since you locked us in separate cells. I have needs.” Now it was your turn to arch a brow. “Why? Are you jealous?”

He looked away, ears flushing a ridiculous shade of pink that all his grumpiness couldn’t stop from showing. You had fully opened your shirt and leaned close to the bars, drawing a lithe finger over a pink nipple until it stood erect, inviting him to touch. His eyes were drawn to it involuntarily, then darted away in bitter self-restraint.

“You’re just trying to get me to drop my guard. Don’t think just because I fell for your...” He swallowed, looking aroused and vaguely disgusted with himself. “If you think seducing me will help you get out of here, forget it.”

“You can’t blame a girl for trying. We’re your prisoners.” You cocked out a hip in a defiant pose, maintaining the sensual pout on your lips.

Something collapsed in his features. His lip curled in anger, then fell, and he took a step backward. You watched as part of him broke at the realization that he had been a creep, taking advantage of someone he had drugged and confined in a cell who would do anything it took to survive. Which… was true. But he looked so devastated that a pang of sympathy ripped through your heart.

“Hey. Come on. I didn’t mean…”

He shook his head. “The only reason you let me touch you was desperation to escape.”

“That’s not the only reason. Come on. Max is asleep. Do you want me to beg?”

His head shot up. He glanced over your naked chest and flushed skin, and noticed your eyes were dilated. A sly expression crept over his features. “Yes,” he said. “I want you to beg.”

“Seriously?”

He strode slowly up to the bars until his face was inches from yours. Instead of focusing on your breasts like a slobbering, needy dog, as you’d come to expect, he stared steadily into your eyes. “You want me to fuck you? Beg me for it. Tell me exactly how much you want me, and I will consider it.”

It was difficult not to blink in the intensity of that stare so close to your face, but you wouldn’t let him think he’d won. You locked onto his eyes like two bucks locking antlers, forcing your voice to steady. “Fine. I haven’t gotten any in a month, and I’d really like you to fuck me. Ok?”

“Not good enough.”

You growled in frustration. “Please? I want you. Would you please fuck me?”

“Would you please fuck me…?” he said in a leading tone.

“Would you please fuck me, sheriff? Sir?” You didn’t hide your sarcastic sigh.

He hummed with satisfaction anyway. “That’s the most polite you’ve ever been. Suits you.”

“I was very polite when you interrogated me, fuckface!”

His eyes narrowed and he flinched reflexively at the insult, but after a second, he softened into a low chuckle. “You do a shit job at begging. Hows about I come back later?” He pretended he was going to walk away, and you were desperate enough to take the bait and call out to stop him.

“I’m sorry, sheriff,” you pouted. “Please? I’d really like you to stay and…” You bit your lip, glancing down at the obscene tent between his legs.

He smirked triumphantly. “Alright. You win.”

It seemed very much like he was winning, but you were so fucking horny and desperate to feel him that you left out the sarcastic retort.

“Hands through the bars.”

“Are you kidding?!”

“Hey. This doesn’t mean I trust you. Cuffs or nothing.”

You growled in annoyance but dutifully presented your hands for him to cuff together. Cold metal bit into your wrists – they were on securely.

“Take your pants off and kneel on the bed, facing the wall.”

“You already cuffed me!” you complained.

His only response was silence and a pitiless gaze. Eventually, you gave a resigned huff, and began awkwardly working down your pants, trying not to think of how much he was enjoying your humiliation.

You crawled onto the thin prison cot, knees shoulder-width apart, and lowered yourself onto your elbows, showing him your ass and pussy on full display. You tried not to think about how helpless you would be when he came into the cell to fuck you, handcuffed and in this submissive pose. You swallowed hard, beads of sweat starting to prick your forehead. A throb of pain jabbed through your bloodied eye socket and you winced, wondering why you were asking for more punishment.

Did you really think doing this was going to help you escape?

Of course you did. If you started having sex with him, there was no way he’d keep you locked up forever. If you kept giving yourself to him willingly, it would begin to feel like a real relationship… then he would have to give you your freedom. He would have to help you, and in turn, let you help Max. Imagine cuddling together after the act, so affectionate and comfortable that he fell asleep in your arms. You could take his keys and gun easily, then.

The cell door squealed open on rusty hinges, and you heard his footsteps enter. He stood behind you silently for one moment, then two. The sound of a zipper opening. More silence. It felt like forever that he was standing behind you, breathing. You almost snarled something impatiently at him, but found your throat too tight for banter.

It was an eternity, not knowing what he was going to do. How rough he might be. You had made yourself utterly powerless to a man driven so mad by lust he couldn’t control himself – who had stopped listening to his rational inner cop that told him this was a trap, or at best, wildly unethical. But you thought about how he made you beg for it, and something warmed in your chest, unbidden. He didn’t want to force you into anything. He was afraid enough that you didn’t want it – that you were using him. Which you were.

Then he knelt, and his hot breath tickled your inner thigh. The fine hairs stood on end. One large hand gripped above your knee and spread your legs wider. You flinched in surprise at the touch, letting out a soft whimper as the heat of his breath grew closer. He inhaled slowly and deeply, then let it out over the next few seconds.

Your cheeks felt hot as blood. Was he sniffing you?

“H-hey, what are you—”

His tongue darted out, and your back arched with a soft, startled yelp. His tongue glided deftly between your folds, parting them. You had expected him to shove his hard cock roughly inside you right away – that he would be too desperate to hold back once you’d given him the opportunity. He seemed like the type to savor exerting power over someone helpless, you thought, cynically. But even now, he was bruising his own knees on the concrete floor to pleasure you.

He let out an obscene, hungry whimper as he leaned forward again, tongue sliding over your throbbing flesh, his vocalizations deepening as the taste of your arousal coated his tongue. He licked a stripe up to your clit and teased it for a while, making you fight to keep from crying out again, then slipped it down into your pussy, probing in as far as he could reach, stretching your entrance open. He continued alternating fucking you with his slithering tongue, then withdrawing it to return to your clit, coated with your slick.

The sensation was too much as his tongue played back and forth over the throbbing bud – this time, a cry burst from your lips, and you fell forward onto the stinking mattress, burying your face in the cushion. Max would hear. Please stay asleep, you prayed. Don’t wake up. But a devious, sadistic part of you didn’t really care. Somehow the thought of him listening, burning with jealousy and lonely need, only made the throb between your legs pulsate harder and hotter.

You moved your hips to increase the friction from Travis’s tongue. He dipped his tongue into your cunt again, and you whined. It felt good, but nothing like the explosion of sensation when he was lapping at your clit. He switched again, a few times more, and each time he returned to your clit you gave a desperate cry of pleasure and relief, gyrating your hips eagerly. He was relatively quick to catch on to your signals. Just before you were about to husk a breathy order, he began focusing all of his attention on your clit, circling it with his tongue like a wolf circling its prey.

The jail was filled with his lewd slurping, which drowned out everything else. Underneath it, you could swear you heard a grumbling, miserable voice coming from the next cell, but it might have just been your imagination. Travis tilted his head beneath you to get a better angle, closed his lips around your entire clit, and sucked as vigorously as he had sucked your tits. Your mind went blank.

“Fuck, yesss,” you breathed out, panting and thick with lust as your hips bucked and your thighs tried to close around his face to hold him against your sweet spot. “Yes – oh god, please!”

He groaned into you, and you thought he must have had some snide, smug comment on his tongue, but it was occupied and wouldn’t be diverted from its task. He sucked harder, letting out muffled noises of gratitude and hunger, his tongue flicking over your swollen, aching bud. The relentless suction drove the pitch of your pleasure to unbearable heights as it increased your sensitivity, and his tongue wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t… stop… Oh god. You gasped over and over, each breath coming out a sob. Then with one wracking wail, your thoughts blanked, your vision whited out, the dirty prison cot disappeared, and you were just floating for what felt like an eternity and yet no time at all. The next thing you remembered, you were bucking your hips wildly into Sheriff Hackett’s mouth, crying out loud and unrestrained for more – more! Don’t stop!

You didn’t have time to kick yourself for being so pathetic. He was on you before your inner walls had finished the aftershocks of their convulsions, his hard cock burning against your twitching entrance. He rubbed it through your slit a few times, bathing it in your slickness, drawing out new moans when it nudged your overworked clit. Then he drew back, his hips slammed forward, and he was inside you with a single, ruthless thrust, groaning as he bottomed out.

“Fuck!” You shouted in a mix of pleasure, pain, and surprise. So much for him being gentle. He was fucking you now – exploiting his power to use your body without any concern for your comfort, just as you thought he would from the start.

Except you were so wet, your pussy so eager for him, that his sudden entrance met only the slightest resistance, the stretch only painful to the degree that highlighted and enhanced the pleasure. Or maybe it was all pleasure, and you had just expected pain. You were usually the one in control with Max, and surrendering it was odd. Odd, but sort of… intoxicating.

Your dazzled brain couldn’t distinguish pain from pleasure, right from wrong anymore. You kept crying out, moaning and sobbing, with each thrust of his hips. He hung on to you, slapping his bony hips against the round of your ass in a perverse symphony of slapping and squelching and lurid vocals, accompanied by the rhythmic jangling of keys. He never took off his belt, and the gun’s holster prodded your side on particularly deep thrusts. Long fingers marked your hips, leaving bruises where they dug deep into your flesh, using them like handles to pull himself against you.

His breath came harder and more ragged with each thrust until his stoic silence broke, and he was murmuring in shaky whispers. Nonsense at first, just garbled swears and apologies, but then he leaned over your back and was panting in your ear, “Shit… you feel so good… Please, please, I need to touch you… need to feel you…”

His hands wandered up your body, slipping under your shirt, trailing over your torso, and lingering as they reached your breasts. You worried your lower lip between your teeth as your body responded to his touch, the now-familiar pleasure of his fingers teasing your nipples. Arousal dripped down your sopping wet thighs, and you felt him shudder inside you.

“What am I doing?” he gasped in a sudden crisis of guilt, though you noted that his hips never faltered in their desperate rhythm. “Fuck, what am I…” he groaned, palms kneading your breasts. His head bowed, breath hot and broken in your ear. “I’m sorry. Fuck…Fuck!” His teeth clamped down on your shoulder hard enough that, had you taken your shirt off, it would have drawn blood, and the rest of his words devolved into guttural moaning. His hips frenzied, snapped against your ass once more with a ringing slap, and then went still. He gasped at once, pulling his cock from you in time to spatter your thighs with several drops of sticky white seed, the remains of his ejaculation, which had been spent mostly inside you.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered.

Normally you were on birth control and wouldn’t have worried much. But you hadn’t been taking your pills since you were… you know… in captivity.

Fuck.

Warm cum dribbled out of you slowly. You bit down the urge to scream, “You fucking idiot!” (This was all to get him on your side, remember?) A shudder of panic twisted your stomach, mixed with a concerning amount of pride. The plan was still going smoothly. If you were pregnant with his child… he would definitely let you go then.

He remained bowed over you for a few long moments, whispering, “Sorry… Oh god, I’m sorry,” until his breath began to hitch. His hands caressed over your belly, tender and possessive, for a brief moment, and you knew he was thinking about it, too. He concealed a sniffle in a deep inhale, then rose quickly, leaving you feeling horribly alone. He backed out of the cell, and the sound of the key clicking in the lock hit you harder than you could have imagined.

You turned in time to see him wipe off his cock with a handkerchief and tuck himself back into his uniform pants. All the detached, annoyed-cop professionalism was back in his manner.

“Are you at least going to let me fucking shower?”

He stared at you, outwardly calm, but with quiet desperation building in his eyes. His jaw tensed. A flash of tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Clean yourself up.”

“Christ.” You shook your head, not allowing yourself to snarl in anger or to let him see the tears pricking at the back of your eyes over how quickly his warmth toward you had evaporated. “There must be a pharmacy in town, yeah? Just buy some Plan B; it’s not that hard.”

You could see the gears in his head turning, and he nodded finally.

When he returned you to your cell after an unmolested shower, he muttered a promise of getting your pills from the pharmacy. You listened to his footsteps retreating, following their path in the mental map of the station you had plotted out in your mind over the last four weeks, until they reached the front door and silence fell. The cot creaked a complaint beneath you as your weight slumped onto it.

Max’s voice calling out from the next cell was the last thing you wanted to hear at that moment.

“Did – did he say Plan B? Laura… what the fuck?”

“Max, I—”

“What the hell did he do to you?!” Fury shook his voice, which sounded cartoonishly small in the hollow acoustics of the cells.

“I’m sorry. I’m doing whatever it takes to get us—”

“You’re letting that guy rape you! Please, don’t... don’t you dare say it’s for us. Please. There’s gotta be another way.”

“I don’t care if you don’t understand! Ok? I got us into this; I’m going to get us out. I can fix this. I don’t care if you hate me. I can save you.”

“Fuck, Laura!” he shrieked. “No! Not like this. That sleazy cop pervert will not get away with putting his hands on you. No. I’m not going to let you be raped so you can save me!”

“JUST SHUT UP, MAX!” You were trembling at the force of your scream, heart racing. The jail fell silent, ringing in the echo.

“Ok,” he said softly, after a time. It sounded like he was coaxing a fragile bird with a broken wing. “Ok. I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. Just… I’m here. I’m right here if you need me. If you need to talk about it. Since that’s about all I can do,” he finished bitterly, raging against his impotence, his inability to protect you. Ragged, unsteady breathing began to emanate from his cell, which you recognized as silent sobbing.

Your face was wet with tears, half of them stinging with blood.

That’s not the problem, Max… you thought with a shudder. I just can’t stand to hear you talk about him that way.

Oh fuck. You weren’t supposed to be getting protective and emotional over him. He was just some dirty, perverted cop, and you were just exploiting his weakness. You were in control. You were supposed to be in control.

Then why were you the one begging him to touch you? And why couldn’t you get the gentleness of his calloused hands or the smoky scent of coffee and Jim Beam out of your mind? Why did it feel so good to see his defenses crumble, and why did it hurt so deeply when he made it clear how little he cared about you beyond sex?

Oh fuck.

Your plan to seduce Travis Hackett was royally backfiring.

#travis hackett x reader #travis hackett x laura kearney #travislaura #my writing

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jelliclekay · 1 year

Text

Jerrie is a bit miffed on the day Teazer suddenly decides she wants to be a mom.

Having kittens was never something the two discussed outside of Teazer being adamant she had no interest in ever carrying one herself. Something that Jerrie was more than happy to agree with. It’s not like Jerrie doesn’t like kittens, he does. He gets along great with the kittens in the Junkyard, but the idea of having so much responsibility over something so tiny and vulnerable scares him more than he’s willing to admit.

The two are scouring the back allys they’ve explored together for years when Teazer suddenly stops. They are on their way to one of their usual spots to pick up some requested items from the Junkyard. Jerrie raises an eyebrow when he sees his mate turn the opposite direction of the target, hunching herself into a corner of an alley where a pile of trash and other discarded items remain.

For a second, Jerrie assumes her eyes must have spotted something of value that escaped his notice. He walks over to her, about to ask what it is she found when he hears it.

Tiny mewing.

Sure enough, hiding in an empty carboard box is a small kitten, his dirty coat being white, brown with bits of orange here and there. Small is an understatement here. Jerrie hasn’t been around many new kittens, but this is certainly the smallest kitten he’s ever laid eyes on. The kitten’s eyes are barely open, its breathing shallow as it lets out another tiny mew at the two larger cats staring at it. Jerrie and Teazer are no strangers to finding abandoned kittens during their adventures, but this one is a particularly sad sight.

Jerrie is about to suggest the two inform Munk when they return to the Junkyard when Teazer does something he would never expect.

She picks the kitten up.

The poor thing barely puts up a fight, likely having no energy in its clearly malnourished body to try. Jerrie raises an eyebrow at his partner, not liking the clearly enamored look she is giving the tiny bundle of dirty and damp fur in her arms.

He asks her what she thinks she’s doing, and Teazer looks up at him for a second before her attention is drawn back down to the now loudly mewing kitten.

“Look at him, Jer.” She says, her tone softer than Jerrie has ever heard it before, “He needs help.”

Jerrie can’t argue with that, but he also isn’t liking where this is going.

“We can tell Munk about him later when we are done with the job we are currently on.” He insists, hoping that turning his back as though he’s leaving will make Teazer follow behind.

“I can’t leave him, Jer.” She insists back, holding the bundle closer to her chest. The kitten at this point has stopped its mewing and squirming, instead burying its tiny face into Teazer’s fur.

Jerrie blinks at Teazer, unsure what she thinks she is doing here. “Teaz, what are you saying here?” He asks, though unsure if he wants to hear the answer he knows is coming based off the determined, unmoving look on his partner’s face.

“I’m taking him home.” Teazer exclaims confidently, picking up her empty bag and walking past Jerrie towards the direction of the Junkyard.

Jerrie doesn’t know what to say, what to think. Teazer is never one to think before making a decision, something he has always been able to put up with, something he loves about his partner in crime. But the decision has never been as large as impulsively deciding to raise a kitten found on the street.

He tries to reason with her the entire walk back to the Junkyard, but the protests fall on deaf ears. He isn’t sure if it’s because Teazer just refuses to be reasoned with or if she genuinely isn’t listening as she is still so enthralled by her newfound kitten.

“Look at him, Jer.” Teazer finally speaks, not answering any of Jerrie’s genuine questions about the logistics of her raising a kitten, “He’s so small. And look at his coat, he looks just like my dad.”

“Teazer,” Jerrie pleads one last time, but it’s too late. The two have made it back to the Junkyard, with none of the items they had promised to return with.

The next few hours are a blur for Jerrie. He stands behind Teazer as she shows Munk the new addition to the tribe, arms crossed as Teazer asks Munk if Skimble is around. Luckily enough, Skimble just so happens to be visiting that day. His visits are always eventful, but he’s certainly surprised and ecstatic that a routine visit to see his family is ending with him becoming a Grandfather finally.

Teazer knows this isn’t something Jerrie ever wanted. It’s why when it came down to her having to come up with the logistics of raising this kitten, Tugger steps up to help raise this kitten with her, becoming the adopted father of Teazer’s new son. Though Jerrie in time learns to accept, love and even assists in raising this kitten when the time comes.

When Skimble finally asks what this new kitten is named, Teazer with all the confidence in the world says “His name is Duncan.”

Skimble is over the moon that Teazer gave his first grandson a name that is Scottish in origin, but Jerrie knows the truth behind the name is because he was found hiding in an empty box of Duncan-Hines cake mix.

#my headcanons #jerrie and teazer are mates in my hcs not siblings #cats the musical #was thinking about my Tugger kittens today #so have some Duncan origin story #but from jerrie's POV because the day Duncan happens is a strange one for him #mungojerrie #rumpleteazer

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fiixer · 8 months

Note

for the AU thing - prototype or assassin's creed au? 👀

POR QUÉ NO LOS DOS - although with only a couple headcanons bc I'd definitely like to plot both of these things, because there are people with much deeper knowledge on both/either who could help add detail's or pitch more ideas so pls, giMME-

Prototype

The first thing that popped into my head upon reading "Prototype" was, someone making a connection between web of intrigue victims, piecing stuff together, and sending out a contract that's essentially "It seems like Mercer wanted these people for a reason, here's the possible upcoming lineup, find them and take them out before he can get his germy hands on them".

Panic isn't generally a thing for him. Shit happens, he takes it in stride and adapts, simple as that. But, having him face-to-face with something inhuman, something so powerful he can't even fathom, something that, for a change, puts him in the prey position...that fear is almost palpable, and it'd be the one situation he doesn't have a clue how to handle. People he knows. People he can take down and eliminate if they become a nuisance, but viral mutants? Nah, fam, that's beyond his pay grade.

On the flip side, that kind of chaos could make for some interesting fixer gigs. Someone's always going to want someone else dead, "oops, this is important and now it's in a Red Zone" etc etc. There's also the notion of hacking Gentek, or even Blackwatch, and while Jordi isn't the one to do it, he's got access to a wide array of people who can, some of whom owe him some BIG favors.

Not...gonna lie, I may have had a fleeting thought about what might happen if a certain someone ended up like the Evolved. Someone with a sadistic streak well before he had those insane abilities, and then suddenly, s u r p r i s e~ But, y'know. It's just a thought

Assassin's Creed

Ubisoft can deny it 'til they're all blue in the face, but I'm adamant that Watch Dogs and Assassin's Creed are the same verse, just focused on different aspects of it.

I stand by Blume and Abstergo being intertwined, or at the very least vaguely allied with each other. And you know, Jordi's got some friends who might be really in that, but whoops, rooting around uncovers that whole rabbit hole and holy shit what did I step in with you people -

Not much about Jordi would actually change. He'd still be a go-to guy, and not strictly for either side. Whoever coughs up the most cash has his loyalty and everything that entails

Honestly, both of these are verses I would love to plot out and have ready to go, but again, I could definitely use the input of people more well-versed than myself to really iron things out~

#mk19s #ooc tbt.#( &. wishlist )#[ rubs my face on the screen i love both of these things but I never got crazy in depth into them. but i would love to. slksdjfs ]

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oss-punishment · 2 years

Text

Chapter 8-A Tale of Abandonment on a Moonlit Night; Scene 5

Original Sin Story: Punishment, pages 162-166

A single robin perched on a tree branch, and began to chirp.

The two unthinkingly came to a halt, listening to its pretty song.

Eventually the robin stopped singing, and took off from the branch.

The two of them chased after it, and finally the bird landed down somewhere else.

It was…the roof of a small home.

“A house!”

Gretel stopped Hänsel before he could run towards it.

“Wait. Didn’t I tell you? That might be the witch’s house.”

“Oh right. Then that means it’s made of candy…Can I take a bite and see?”

“No. That’s the witch’s trap. To lure in children.”

After they looked upon it for a little while, the door to the house opened, and from inside came an elderly woman carrying a spoon.

At one look, the two of them were certain.

This was—the witch of the forest!

Hänsel dropped the glass bottle he’d been carrying in shock.

“…?”

The witch heard the noise, and started to slowly walk their way.

The two quickly tried to hide, but the witch found them before they could.

“Oh my, children!” The witch ran up to them and tightly hugged them both. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t myself…You must be hungry, right? Come on, come in the house. You’ve nothing to fear now.”

So saying, she took both of their hands and led them into the house.

Once they got inside, the witch lit a fire in the stove to start preparing dinner.

As she did that, Hänsel and Gretel started whispering to each other.

“…Hey, what do you think?”

“No doubt about it, she’s trying to put us off guard.”

“I bet she plans to throw us in that oven.”

“Yeah. We’ve gotta do something…before she makes us into a roast.”

Gretel slowly drew up behind the witch, careful not to make any sound with her footsteps.

The witch peered into the oven to check the fire level.

Now!

Gretel pushed the witch into the oven with all her might.

And then she shut the door and drew the latch.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaagh--!!”

The witch’s scream resounded through the room like lightning.

There was the sound of her pounding on the oven door.

Gretel covered her ears, and cowered there on the spot.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” she murmured over and over again, not knowing why.

She’d defeated the evil witch.

That was all she’d done, and yet for some reason she couldn’t stop crying.

There was no longer any sound or screaming from inside the oven.

The witch had finally burned to death.

--But that didn’t mean that it was all over then.

The door to the house opened, and a man carrying a bow entered.

“--! Y-you two—”

Drat.

The witch had a henchman!

Hänsel rapidly lunged at the man.

“Waaargh!”

The man fell on his back to the ground, Hänsel clinging to him.

But he quickly grabbed at Hänsel, and tossed him away.

As he stood, he looked down at Hänsel, tumbled about on the ground as he was, with an agitated expression.

“Just what are you—”

There was the sharp, stabbing sound.

The man’s eyes widened, and then he collapsed on the spot.

Behind him—at some point another old man had come to be standing there.

“Urr…rrggh,” the man groaned, looking up the old man. “You…!? …S-…Seth?”

“To think I’d be reuniting with you again…I’m quite surprised, Adam.”

“…”

“Still…it’s over now. Sorry, but I don’t have the time to concern myself with you anymore.”

“…Is this…karma…?”

And there the witch’s henchman expired.

Hänsel and Gretel could only stare on in shock at this unexpected course of events.

“Old man…who are you?” Hänsel asked him.

“I am your just and righteous ally, come to save you. …You’ve gotten quite big, Hänsel and Gretel…’Twins of God’.”

“You know about us?”

“Yes, that’s right, Gretel. Since you were little babies—Ah, wait just a moment.”

Seth suddenly looked around them…and rested his eyes on a single point.

“…Someone is watching us.”

Then Seth began to gently reach out his hand for that spot.

“I can’t tolerate someone reading another person’s memories—Nyoze.”

--Everything being displayed there abruptly cut off.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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hbcsource · 1 year

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Helena Bonham Carter’s Harper’s Bazaar UK interview | February 2023

A WOMAN SCORNED Helena Bonham Carter tells Lydia Slater why her latest role, exploring the life of the 1970s soapstar Noele Gordon, feels like restorative justice Those of a certain vintage may remember the ponderous sequence of nine guitar notes that were the signal to cluster around the television for Crossroads. Set in a Midlands motel, the soap was much derided for its flimsy sets, implausible storylines and clunky dialogue; nevertheless, in the mid-Seventies, the series was attracting 15 million viewers, and battling Coronation Street for ratings supremacy. The unquestioned star of the show was Noele Gordon, known to the nation as Nolly, who played the matriarchal, auburn-haired motel owner Meg Richardson (later Mortimer). The role had been created with Gordon in mind, and she remained Crossroads’ most popular character from the show’s launch in 1964 until 1981, when she was suddenly sacked. Her defenestration, and the reasons behind it, are the premise on which Russell T Davies has based his new three-part series, Nolly. ‘One of my very first jobs in TV was a trial script for Crossroads, and I’ve wanted to write the story of behind the scenes on that show for 40 years,’ he said. ‘Russell has always been a real supporter of the underdog,’ says Helena Bonham Carter, who portrays Gordon, complete with coiffure and carefully modulated accent. ‘He thought Nolly was really badly treated, and I think he wanted to give her the send-off and the recognition she deserved.’ Bonham Carter was ‘very aware’ of the soap as a child. ‘It was part of the perma-wallpaper, and I knew all the characters.’ She was immediately drawn to the complexity of the woman in Davies’ screenplay. ‘Nolly was a highly complicated character and a mix of many things – and not an easy mix,’ she says. ‘But I love playing people who are complex.’ Gordon was a child stage star who came from a modest background. She trained at Rada and went on to work both behind and in front of the television camera, becoming Britain’s first female TV executive; she helped Ned Sherrin and Reg Watson launch ATV Midlands in 1956, and was the first woman to interview a British prime minister when Harold Macmillan appeared on her chat show. Steeped in the workings of daytime television, Gordon was unafraid to voice her opinions on how things should be done on Crossroads. ‘She was outspoken, she was herself, she was utterly authentic,’ says Bonham Carter. ‘I think, frankly, she terrified the people who ran the show. And she was punished for that. It’s not new, is it, that women aren’t allowed to have a strong voice?’ Certainly, the first episode presents the ‘Queen of the Midlands’ as a daunting figure, swanning to the studios in mink coat and Rolls-Royce, changing a new character’s accent from Brummie to RP (in the teeth of the producer’s protests), and then playing an on-screen practical joke on the same rookie performer, after she dared to cast doubt on Gordon’s assertions of the programme’s popularity. But the series also shows how Gordon was greatly loved and respected by (most of) the people she worked with – particularly the actor Tony Adams. He played the motel’s suave, moustachioed accountant, Adam Chance, and in reality not only rented a flat from Nolly but was her closest ally – for, having been jilted by her fiancé, she never married or had children. ‘The show gave her a real sense of identity, belonging and purpose,’ says Bonham Carter. ‘She said she had two lives, as Meg Mortimer and Noele Gordon. And whenever she went to a hotel or a restaurant, inevitably they would take her to inspect the kitchen… the line was very smudged.’ As a result, Gordon lost far more than just her job when Charles Denton, the incoming controller of programmes at ATV, informed her agent that ‘all good things must come to an end’, a decision that this series lays squarely at the door of misogyny and ageism. ‘I think Nolly is quite right when she says, “You wouldn’t have sacked me if I’d been a man”,’ says Bonham Carter. ‘Men are allowed to be difficult and dictatorial. It really feels like Greek tragedy – she’s cut off in her prime.’ Gordon refused to take the decision lying down and complained to the press, resulting in national headlines, and sackfuls of irate letters sent to ATV from her devoted fans, while the series shows how producers retaliated by declining to tell Gordon how she would be written out and going to the extent of staging her fake funeral. Bonham Carter herself has never joined a long-running franchise. ‘Even after just two seasons with The Crown, by the end, with the best will in the world, you’re beginning to get a bit automatic – and if you’re faintly bored, it’s time to move on.’ Fortunately, at 56, her own career is as busy and diverse as ever. ‘We might have less collagen, but we’re much more interesting when we’re over 50,’ she says, with a laugh. ‘Life makes you more interesting, you’ve got more depth, the map of the soul is so much bigger if you’ve survived.’ Sadly, Gordon did not. She died of cancer in 1985, just four years after her sacking, while Crossroads itself only limped on until 1988. This charming series, and Bonham Carter’s portrayal, are a worthy tribute to a national treasure, and an overdue acknowledgment of the unjust treatment meted out to her.

#helena bonham carter #interviews #2023 #interviews: 2023 #harper's bazaar uk 2023 #noele gordon #nolly

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koshkamartell · 11 months

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Chapter 13 - Dance in The Dark

masterlist

Anna, Mark, Flynn, Luke, Ness, Toni and I went clubbing after dinner. We arrived at a bar a few blocks from Spero and Mark and Luke went to the bathroom while the rest of us chatted in a small circle around a table.

"I slept with Adam again." Toni confessed suddenly. We all looked at her in shock, Anna choking on her drink. "He stopped trying to call me after I got my Gucci back and I kinda....missed him." Toni grinned sheepishly and shrugged her shoulders.

Ness laughed incredulously while shaking her head. "That is so typical of you. You love teasing these guys and fucking with their head. The guy was in love with you! He bought you a fricken' ring--"

"Not that kinda ring," Toni interjected.

"But still, expensive ass jewellery," Ness asserted. "Told you he loved you and you ghosted him! Now you're going to play him again?"

Anna, Flynn and I watched in silence as the two cousins debated the situation.

"So I should just give up what I want cos he wanted me to be his girlfriend?" Toni said in annoyance. "Just forfeit what makes me happy to satisfy him? I didn't want a relationship in the first place, it isn't my fault he wanted more."

Ness narrowed her eyes at Toni. "You know I love you. I've known you your whole life. And I know you like him. I know you got scared--"

"Yeah, I liked him, but I wasn't ready for commitment. And how exactly is me fucking him again playing him?" Toni hissed at her. "Seriously Ness, don't run your mouth about shit you know nothing about!"

An awkward silence hung over us until Mark approached us. "Uhm, okay then," he blurted out. "Just wanted to ask what Ally wanted to drink but I guess you're doin' some weird group confessional shit?"

I looped my arm through his. "No, nothing like that. Come on, buy me a birthday drink."

We went to another bar and two clubs before we decided to finish up the night and go home. It was 2.30am and Toni and Anna had gotten very drunk. Mark and Luke were still relatively sober, and Ness and I were only tipsy. Flynn had already been picked up by Simon We stood outside the club. I called Joel's number and he answered after only three rings.

~~~~~~

"Hey," I cooed into the phone.

"Hey, birthday girl. You done there?" Joel's husky voice made me shiver all over.

"Mmhmm," I replied. I watched Anna stumbling into Mark's arms and try to kiss him. Toni was talking on the phone to someone and Ness and Luke were chatting and sharing a joint.

"Okay, where are you? I'll come now."

Joel must have already been close by the city because he only took 10 minutes to pick me up. My friends stayed to make sure I was safe until he arrived, then they left. Mark was driving Toni and Ness back to their place, then he and Luke and Anna back to Westor.

~~~~~~

"Hi," I said as I slid into the passenger seat of Joel's car. He was wearing his usual jeans and a casual t shirt, his fluffy hair uncombed. Some country music played lowly on the radio.

"Hey, baby." His eyes wandered all over me as I buckled my seat belt. "My fuckin' god, you are so sexy."

I giggled. "Oh, you like my dress?" I teased, shifting my leg so more of my thigh was exposed through the slit. He watched the flesh of my thigh peek out from under the satin material and licked his bottom lip.

Joel redirected his attention back to the road and put his hand back on the steering wheel to begin the drive back to his house. As we left the city I sighed, content and tired, and reached down to remove my high heels.

"Mmhm," Joel murmured, "dress sure is pretty, babydoll."

He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my lips, the rough pads of his fingers lightly running down the side of my thigh, tickling my skin. A shiver ran through my body and caused me to part my legs, my body eager for more of his touch. "Let's go home."

"Flynn alright?" Joel asked gruffly.

"Yeah, he met up with Simon after we went to Samba." I rested my head back on the head rest and let out a little yawn. I pulled out my phone and scrolled aimlessly through my Instagram feed. I saw Toni's post from earlier that evening - a photo of her perfectly posed at Spero with a vampy smile, holding up her wine glass in front of her. It got me thinking.

"Papi," I began, using a nickname I often used for Joel. "Has Adam moved on yet?"

He glanced over at me with a confused frown.

"Has he moved on from Toni?" I clarified. "Has he found someone else?"

"Oh. Uh, don't think so," Joel looked back at the road and scratched the side of his cheek. "Pretty sure he ain't seein' anybody now. Still looks at her....gram, or what ever the hell it's called. Seein' what she's doin' and who with."

"Yeah, that, whatever it's called," he waved his hand dismissively. "Why you askin'?"

"He looks at her Instagram?" I tried to hold back my laughter.

Toni was a prolific social media user and never failed to upload her hiking adventures, clubbing outfits and other random things she thought worthy of sharing to the world online. The thought of Adam obsessing over Toni's Instagram like a love struck teenager made me feel sorry for him as well as giggle.

"No reason, just curious. Anyway," I reached for his hand on the gear stick and caressed it tenderly. "Thanks for picking me up."

"Baby, you don't got to thank me for that." Joel removed his hand from the gear stick and interlaced his fingers with mine, his thick digits dwarfing mine. "I wanna take care of you, wanna make sure you're safe. All you gotta do is call me and I'll be there."

I stroked his thumb with mine and yawned, fatigued suddenly settling into my body. The low hum of the car engine and the warmth inside the car, Joel's touch, the faint echo of the slow country music song playing on the speakers began lulling me into sleep. I shut my eyes and drifted off.

~~~~~~

Sometime later I was roused from my dreams by Joel scooping me into his arms like a bride and carrying me inside his house. My eyes fluttered open and I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck. He walked me to his bedroom and set my on the bed carefully.

"Be right back," Joel said before disappearing back out to the car. He returned after a minute carrying my handbag and shoes. I curled up ontop of the bedspread and watched as he removed his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, then hung them on a hook in the closet. Through sleepy half lidded eyes I silently admired his thick legs and the way his underwear cupped his package and the curve of his ass. I could see the softness of the lower half of his belly and the snail trail leading up. I felt the random urge to sink my teeth into his skin. Joel caught me watching him and smirked.

"How ya feelin' darlin'?" He drawled, ambling over to the bed. I gave him a faint smile and he sat down next to me.

"Good," I murmured silkily. "A little sleepy." I noticed his eyes roam over my body, drinking in the sight of my bare leg where my dress was split, the swell of my breasts against the thin satin, the gift he had given me laying on my chest. His hand reached out and brushed the diamante pendant. I saw his mouth twitch with a prideful smile.

"You better get some sleep," Joel whispered. He started to stroke the top of one of my feet. "Better get you outta that dress, get you more comfy."

I stretched my whole body, my limbs extending out at full length like a cat, and let out a yawn. Exhaustion slowly settled into my bones and my eyelids felt heavier. "Mmhm." I curled back into myself and shut my eyes. "Just....going to lay down...for a minute."

I was falling into a deep slumber but still vaguely aware that Pedro was undressing me slowly. His large warm hands peeled the straps of my dress off my shoulders carefully and then searched for the zip to properly strip me of the satin material. After unzipping it he gently tugged it down my torso and legs, revealing my naked breasts and the black lace thong I was wearing. I heard a deep groan rumble from his throat. My skin prickled at being exposed to the cool air and Joel swiftly placed a warm blanket over the top of me. Enveloped by it's soft heat, I fell into a whirlwind of strange vivid dreams where dark haired men held me tightly in their grasp and violated every inch of my skin with a sensual cruelty that both frightened and excited me.

Sometime during the morning when it was still dark, I had woken up to find Joel spooning me from behind with one arm snaked underneath me and the other locked across my chest. His erection was digging against my ass. I pushed my head back against his chest and turned to kiss his bicep. When he didn't stir, I lightly nipped the skin on his upper arm and flicked my tongue over it. Joel hummed sleepily in response and tightened his hold around me while simultaneously pushing his hips forward, the thickness of his dick pressing inbetween my ass cheeks.

~~~~~~

"Joel," I whispered in the darkness, a flame of desire beginning to simmer in my lower belly. His hand moved over my breast and gave it a slight squeeze.

"Baby," he mumbled, his Texan voice thick from sleep. His thumb moved in circles over my nipple. He shifted his face to nuzzle into my neck. His warm breath and beard tickled me and I felt myself getting wet inside my thong.

"I had a bad dream," I said softly and moved my hand to hold onto his forearm. Pedro's lips began to place wet kisses on my neck, his mouth open slightly to allow his tongue to slide out and lap at my skin. A moan escaped my mouth, barely audible. "I got scared."

"'S okay, baby, I got you." Joel whispered into my ear. "You're safe." He squeezed my breast again and gave my shoulder a bite that was neither painful nor gentle. My body shivered all over and my clit started to throb against the lace material covering it.

"Promise?" I moaned, lightly digging my nails into his arm.

"Promise, babydoll," Joel's hand began trailing down my ribs and over my stomach. He pressed his open mouth into my throat and sucked on it, the suction weak and lazy at first but gradually became more passionate. His hand slipped down and cupped my crotch firmly. I gasped and parted my thighs instinctively, the desire for his touch now evoking a desperate ache in my loins. He grazed his teeth along my throat as he sucked and I realised he would leave a mark.

"No hickeys," I whispered, my breath hitching. When he didn't stop sucking I drummed my palm against his arm. "Don't."

Joel bit down into my flesh, causing me to squeal loudly and try to jerk away. He let go of my neck and growled into the shell of my ear. "I wanna leave my mark, let everyone who you belong to." His fingers dipped underneath the lace of my underwear and pushed inbetween my lips, instantly becoming coated in my wetness. "Fuck," he exhaled a husky breath, "you want me that bad, babydoll?"

I started to grind myself against his hand, moaning pathetically. Joel touched my clit with his thick forefinger and middle finger and began to move them in delicious circles. "Talk to me," he said, "use your words."

"Yes," I whined. "I want you bad."

Joel continued stimulating my clit while his other hand shifted underneath me and reached up to the front of my neck. He wrapped it around my throat lightly and pressed his lips against my ear. "How bad?"

I was so intoxicated by the way his fingers so expertly pleasured me that I didn't reply to his question. I laid one of my hands on-top of his grip on my neck and reached back to rest the other on Joel's hip. His hardness was still nestled against my ass.

Joel suddenly nipped my earlobe. "Answer me, now." His firm voice broke me out of my trance.

"So bad," I mumbled breathlessly. I raised my leg up and hooked my ankle back over his, opening the space between my legs wider to encourage his hand to keep moving.

"Can't hear you, darlin'," Joel said. He gave my neck a slight squeeze and I whimpered. "Speak up."

"So bad, I want you so bad," I said clearly. He rubbed my clit for a while longer and I felt my orgasm begin to build. I moaned loudly and dragged my fingernails lightly over his thigh. I felt his cock twitch behind me.

"Ready for me?" Joel whispered.

"Yes," I whispered back. He pulled his fingers out from underneath my underwear and I whined in protest at the sense of loss. He grabbed ahold of my thong and yanked the material to the side to expose my wet pussy. He gave my vulva a sudden small smack and I whimpered.

"Yeah, this pretty little pussy is so ready for me," Joel breathed into my ear, his grip on my throat still firm.

He pulled down his underwear and I felt his cock spring free and slap against my ass, precum smearing onto me. In an instant Joel was holding his shaft and pressing the head of his dick against my hole. I arched my back slightly and wriggled myself downward to encourage Joel. He slowly pushed his hips forward and nudged the tip of his dick inside my pussy, both of us moaning together at the overwhelming sensation. He tightened his hand around my neck and used his grip to push me further down onto his cock. My eyes rolled back in my head at the intense feeling of his girth stretching my pussy open.

"Fuck, babydoll," Joel grunted. "So fuckin' tight around me."

Once he had sank all the way inside me, he pulled back out and then pushed back in. I moaned and held onto his hip tighter. Joel began moving his hips back and forth in a steady rhythm, fucking me from behind. The angle of penetration was perfect; each thrust tapped against my g-spot in relentless stimulation. After a minute of the consistent pulsing my orgasm was on the brink of climax. My walls clenched around Joel's dick.

"Mmm," I mewled as Joel started pounding harder and faster. His hold on my throat was tighter and I let out a small barely audible cough, my head swimming with stars. I dug my nails into his thigh.

"So soon?" He chuckled and squeezed my neck, restricting my air flow ever so slightly. "Bet you been wantin' this all night, huh, princess?"

Joel's hips moved faster and the sound of his body slapping against mine increased. I moaned lowly and shut my eyes, losing myself in the ecstasy.

"Probably been dyin' to have my dick in you," he grunted as he thrust deeper inside my cunt. "All them boys tryin'a get your attention, thinkin' they got a chance."

"But you belong to me," Joel growled. He kissed me lovingly on the cheek as he continued slamming into me. "Only I get to fuck this pussy."

My orgasm peaked in a spectacular burst of intense pleasure and my moans came out as faint, strangled sobs. My body wracked with shudders as he covered my cheek in sloppy, passionate kisses. My muscles contracted around Joel's dick and his pace was unwavering as he fucked me through my climax.

I lay still, my body totally depleted of energy, unable to keep my eyes open. When his breathing had regulated and his clarity returned, Joel pulled out of me and then rolled me over to face him. He enfolded me into his arms and covered my face in soft, tender kisses.

"That's it, babydoll," Joel panted against my face. When the bliss of my orgasm dissolved and his momentum did not relent, when I could no longer endure being choked, I tried to pry his large hand from my throat. He let go and I coughed at the swift rush of air that filled my lungs. His hand grabbed at my tits roughly and soon his movements became sloppy and his breathing laborious.

"Gonna fill you up, baby girl."

A string of low, soft moans escaped my lips as he still fucked me. After another minute Joel's cock pulsated deep inbetween my walls and I felt the jet of cum explode as he orgasmed. He groaned into my neck as he lazily milked himself in and out of me. I savoured the moment of intimacy.

"I love you, Alessandra."

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xzho-writes · 2 years

Text

iron. the stench fills the air and suffocates those within its metallic grasp.

rain. it pours from the heavens and clings to your waterlogged form, weighing you down like the anchor of a ship.

cold is what it is- the chill seeps deep within your bones and causes your body to quiver. to tremble.

shrill cries of agony disorientate your focus- they ring in your ears. ring in your head.

but there’s warmth. you find it in the person glued against your back as they ardently protect your blind spot.

“i’m sorry,” they utter. it’s barely above a whisper, but the wind carries their words to your ears anyway.

you stifle the sob welling up your throat.

“you have nothing to apologise for.”

slowly, so as not to worsen the ache in your arms, you lower your weapon and grab weakly at where you think their hand is.

you find it, and they interlock your fingers immediately. they’re warm.

it’s getting all too hard to maintain your composure, now.

“this is it, right? the end?”

the only reply they could give was the squeeze of their hand against yours. your attention is drawn to the way their thumb draws small, gentle circles along the back of your fingers- a calming motion.

they’re trying to comfort you, you realise.

a tear slips, and so does the rest of your hope of winning this godforsaken war.

you don’t know how long you’ve spent fighting, spent protecting what little was left of your beloved city. it’s crumbling helplessly at your feet.

noticing your spiralling thoughts, the simple tug of your arm has you spinning so that you’re faced with the person you’ve sworn your life to. you don’t have the heart to look them in the face, and so you make do with burying your own against their chest.

“i’m scared.”

you’re crying audibly now, sniffling away and drawing yourself impossibly closer to their body. comforting arms wrap themselves around your waist, and soon enough you find the pair of you swaying to the ominous melody of the wind.

“i know. i am, too.”

perhaps this would’ve been a tender moment between two innocent lovers had it not been for the dire circumstances you were in.

the war continues to rage around the both of you, but you find that you could only focus on the person cradling you in their arms. on the tender, apologetic kiss they place on your forehead.

“i’m sorry,” they repeat. you don’t miss the slight waver to it. “this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

you’d love to placate them with your own soothing cooes of “it’s okay” or “there’s nothing else you could have done”, but only weak rasps leave your throat no matter how hard you will yourself to voice anything but.

instead, you squeeze onto them tighter before tilting your head up to place a kiss to their jaw, and then another to their neck just below their adam’s apple.

you shake your head slowly.

they know what you mean.

another shriek fills the air, then another, and another. your attention is suddenly drawn back to the present- to your beloved allies being overrun by the creatures of the abyss, fending them off as best as they can but to no avail.

succumbing to their wounds, they drop like flies.

a familiar hand guides your head back to their chest as they begin to rock you back and forth once more, effectively shielding you from the horrors of reality.

“i’m sorry.” it’s your turn apologising now. you know you shouldn’t.

“you have nothing to apologise for,” they mimic your previous words.

there’s no one else but you and your lover in this shared bubble the two of you created- a false haven in the hopes of escaping the bitter reality.

“you’ll find me again, won’t you?”

leaning their forehead against yours they promise, “always.”

the wind picks up once more, and you sway.

#genshin x reader #hahahaaa #i’m sorry for my behaviour #just some angsty practice to get myself back into the swing of things!#you can imagine this with whoever you’d like :)#also i don’t know what to call this one #title-wise i mean #practice

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mrfeenysmustache · 2 years

Text

Deconstructing the Pyre

Chapter 38

Summary: It’s hard to cope without closure. And even then sometimes we flounder. Kagome is doing her best to just move along when a reunion with an old ally blows it all to hell again. They find some comfort in one another, but soon it is not enough. Kagome must find her way out of the grave she’s dug for herself, but she’s spent so long convincing herself that that’s where she belongs. A SessKag story told in bits and pieces.