#and my operator felt like the perfect choice for it

[rizardofether]

Drew 3/4 of my Warframe OC couples hanging out.

All for this meme:

Bonus: My Operator Sona giving the thumbs up without the text

#warframe #art #my art #warframe fanart #zephyr #limbo #inaros #volt #valkyr #banshee #quetzal #oris #znobis #valiz #cian #nori #operator rizard #there is no operator in the au the warframes are in but i decided to draw the last panel as well instead of just using the template picture #and my operator felt like the perfect choice for it #i guess i could have gone for my warframe sona for it as well but i draw my operator so rarely so

[siribaes]

WHO’S BETTER THAN ME?

RIO x blackfem!reader (oc - Angel)

“After their breakup a decade ago, Rio reunites with high school sweetheart making up for lost time—”

PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School Sweethearts

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: Tu Principe by Daddy Yankee, What You Want by Ma$e & Total, Throwback by Usher & Jadakiss, Thugman by Tweet & Missy Elliott, Only U by Ashanti

CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, or*l (fem receiving), f*ngering, praise k*nk, slight possessive k*nk, Rio being a bedroom bully lol, some light use of Spanish, makeup s*x, cursing, etc. (UNEDITED/ NOT PROOF READ) / GIF CREDIT: @blackisblackisblack

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was supposed to be a drabble but turned into a full-blown fic, but anyway LOL. so i did a lil AU for rio, essentially he pulled a griselda blanco moved operations to Long Beach (Rio is so west coast coded to me) but yeah, the backstory of these two is that they were childhood friends turned high school sweethearts (class of 2005 in my AU lore of these two, hints at the music choices, etc.) before they went separate ways yada yada, the oc’s face claim is danielle brooks 💖 as always enjoy y'all

Makeup sex shouldn’t be this good. Like this was too good, like ultimate dream-fantasy level type of makeup sex. It felt unreal, except this was very real. Very, very, real.

Angel never imagined that her night would've ended up like this, in the arms of her high school sweet-heart, or rather sitting on top of a very expensive, entry way console, as her high school-sweetheart-turned-ex, used his nimble hands to fondle at her luscious curves, and pillowy-soft lips to suck on the sensitive part of her neck. From how hard Rio sucked and kissed on her neck it was surely going to leave a hickey, which might've been on purpose on Rio's part.

Since they were young, Rio always had a slight possessiveness towards Angel, nothing that was too domineering or chauvinistic, but still a possessiveness that was rooted in a love and a true appreciation of her. This of course was expressed in a way that only a sixteen-year-old Rio could, buying Angel's favorite snacks for school, littering her neck with hickeys during make-out sessions, and even saving what little he had to buy a gold necklace with an angel shaped pendant. It was the subtle ways Rio showed how he felt. That in addition to the verbal ways, in true young-Rio, braggadocious fashion. Even then Angel knew, deep, deep, down, that there would be no one who could measure up, or as Rio so accurately foretold the night of their break-up, "Who else is like me, hm? Who's better than me?"

Angel of course buried that fact deep into her subconscious, well, not deep enough, because in each of her relationships since, it managed to rear its ugly head every single time. Most recently, with her ex-fiancé, Nathan. Nathan was great at first, good conversation, amazing dates, lavish gifts, he treated her like princess. But slowly, over time, Nathan stopped trying, it especially became bad after their engagement. They rarely talked, unless it was about work, or wedding plans, he neglected her, especially in the bedroom. Angel soon realized that despite Nathan's neglectfulness, she made no effort to confront him about it. She didn't care, not a single bit. In the end, Angel had to accept that her heart belonged to someone else. That Rio was the only man for her.

Which brings her too tonight, Angel's high school class's reunion. It was a big one, celebrating 20 years, and Angel thought it would be the perfect remedy to cheer her up. She could let loose, reunite with some old classmates, and celebrate with her friends she's had since then. Something that could put her mind at ease, pull her focus away from the abysmal ending to her engagement.

She was having a good time, truly, cutting up on the dance floor to a killer set of music from 04' and 05', with her besties, Clarissa, Benny, Keke, and Dre. Angel was having the time of her life, dancing to Lose My Breath by Destiny's Child, when her friends froze, their eyes all staring at the bar of the ballroom. Clarissa leaned and whispered.

"Rio's, here."

Angel's mind and heart went to full overdrive, as memories of their relationship flooded her mind. Apparently, while Angel and her friends were having the time of their lives, Rio showed up and instantly became the talk of the town. He had a few breezy conversations with old classmates, charming them of course, and when asked about what does for a living, he smoothly responded that he was an entrepreneur, that he's always been good with numbers. Which wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Of course, none of their classmates were aware of Rio's true dealings, only Angel and her close circle were privy to that info.

Despite the nerves that bubbled in her stomach, Angel, knew that she had to face Rio at some point. She marched over and sat at the bar next to him. After some awkward pretense, more on Angel's part than Rio's, and shot of whiskey later, they talked. The conversation flowed and soon before they knew, it was like old times. They caught up and laughed about old memories. More and more Angel felt her heart swell in her chest, her latent feelings for Rio were bubbling to surface. But Rio surprised her, after sharing a couple dances to slow jams, a proposition slipped freely from his lips.

"Come home with me?"

From a safe distance, her friends watched the exchange, seeing the chemistry they still had after all this time, and despite some reservations, they encouraged to follow her heart, or as Keke put it, her pussy. When they were parting ways, Clarissa hugged her tight and encouraged her, whispering in her ear, "Just go with him, girl. Have some fun, we both now you deserve it after the shit you've been through."

So, here she was, whimpering and writhing underneath Rio's touch, while simultaneously admiring the backyard view. An ink-colored sky served as a gorgeous back drop, for the glowy lit infinity pool, in the distance was twinkling lights from buildings near the coastal beach. It was truly a sight to see. Angel snapped back to reality when she felt a firm hand, cradle her chin.

"Where'd you go?" Rio asked. His Coca-Cola colored eyes stared back at her. His head tipped to side, long eye lashes fluttering against the tops of cheeks as he blinked.

His gaze was heavy was lust, completely unrelenting. Its intensity caused Angel to squirm in her seated position. A warmth bloomed underneath her skin as she rubbed at the part of her neck Rio just was. It was still wet from his kisses.

"N-nowhere, baby," Angel stammered.

Slowly, Rio lips curled into a half smile.

"Good," Rio nodded his head as his gaze traveled down to Angel's chest, zeroing in on the exposed skin the peeked through her top, "now take this shit off. I wanna see them titties, Nena."

Completely under his spell, Angel quickly took of her top, leaving her in a lacy, cerulean colored bra, her mini skirt, and a pair of thoroughly soaked panties. Immediately Rio, hand's palmed at Angel's breasts, rubbing and squeezing them. A soft moan escaped her lips, as Rio's lips latched onto one of nipples.

"Yes, baby," Angel sighed, her hands cradled Rio's head close to her. His tongue alternated between soft flicks and harsh sucks at her left nipple. He released her nipple with a pop and went to the right nipple, repeating the same thing, "Fuck, baby, just like that. Shit!"

Angel could feel the wetness pool inside of her panties, as her clit began to throb. She needed Rio, real bad.

"Damn," Rio breathed out. He pulled away from Angel's chest, while his large hands rubbed at her ample thighs. His lips curled into a wicked smile as he admired his handywork. Angel's boobs glistened with sweat, as her hardened nipples stood at full attention, with spit dripping from them, "I missed them titties, girl. Fuck, I need to that pussy too. Lift up for me."

Angel obliged. Rio supported her with one hand, while with the other, slipping off her mini skirt and panties. He tossed the skirt to the floor, while he pocketed her panties. A storm swirled in his eyes, a thick haze of lust, as he admired Angel's, wet, glistening, pussy.

"I dunno if I can wait, mama," Rio rasped. He brought a finger to Angel's core, swiping at her wetness, and brought it back to his lips, sucking on it, "You taste good, mama. All this shit for me?"

Angel nodded. "Yes, it's all for you baby,"

Wordlessly, Rio plunged his fingers inside of Angel, who let out a yelp in response. He quickly fell back into old habits, fucking Angel with his fingers, just the way she liked it.

"Yeaaahhh, just like that," Rio rasped, he bent down and licked at her lips, "Be a good girl and fuck my fingers back," Angel whined loudly, following his instructions, lifting her hips slight and fucked his thick, fingers.

"Fuck! I'm close baby!"

"I gotchu, mama. Fuck, I feel you on my fingers. You gonna let me take care of you, huh? I'll give you anything you want mama, fuck, you being so good for me. Cum for me, darlin',"

And she did. Angel's eyes squeezed shut as she gushed over his fingers. A string of curses and pleases slipped from Angel's lips as Rio continued to fuck her through her orgasm. She could feel the cum slipping down her thighs.

"Mi alma, you look so good cummin' for me," Rio praised her. He captured her lips and kissed her sweetly. His tongue swirled around in her mouth as mimicking the move with his fingers. Angel pulled away from him, mewling.

"Riooooo, fuck, slow down baby,"

Rio landed a firm smack on Angel's ass. He cradled Angel's chin bringing her eyes towards him. His eyes hardened a bit, still holding its lustful haze, now a bit possessiveness broke through. Rio crooked his fingers, slowing down his pace just a tad, but driving into Angel's pussy much harsher and deeper.

"Fuck, I say about that shit," He growled.

"Shit! Baby, I-I'm s-sorry," Angel whimpered. Her mind flickered back to them making out in the car, he only to wanted to her his name, his real one, "Christopher, 's too much,"

A look of pure satisfaction bloomed across Rio's face. Got her.

"Just one more, mama. Be a good girl for me," Rio sunk down to knees, he slowly placed small kisses at Angel's inner thighs. He worshiped the plushness of her thighs, while Angel writhed and whined. He inched closer, spreading Angel's thighs further apart. He admired how she dripped around his fingers. "Fuck, mama I want you to cum on my tongue, 'k?"

Rio kept his eyes on Angel as he licked at her entrance, swirling his tongue around his fingers, continuing on until he reached her clit. Rio pressed a soft kiss to Angel's clit.

"Christopher!" Angel shouted.

Rio worked in tandem, his long fingers plunged in and out of Angel's, while his tongue swirled around her clit, flicking at the sensitive bud. Angel's hands rubbed at the soft hair of Rio's buzzcut, while the familiar thrumming of her orgasm quickly approached.

"Christopher, fuck, I'm soooo close,"

Rio pulled back, "Say it again,"

"Christopher,”

“Again,”

“Christopher, Christopher, Christopherrrrr, keep fuckin’ me, I’m so close,”

Rio grinned as he returned to her pussy. He latched onto her clit, sucking so harshly, Angel for sure believe that it was going to be bruised. His fingers fucked her even faster, as she clenched around them, as Rio French-kissed her pussy. He was completely relentless, wanting to see her cum, again, again, and again. With one last, harsh suck at her clit, Angel, exploded. She screamed in pleasure as she rode out her orgasm. Rio rose up, slowly pumping his fingers, before pulling out.

"Did so good for me," He mumbled against her cheek, holding her close as Angel rode out the aftershocks.

“I love you so much, baby,” Angel whispered in his ear.

Rio captured her lips again, kissing Angel. He licked at her mouth, allowing Angel to taste herself. Rio arms snaked around Angel's torso, and with ease, managed to throw her over his shoulder. Angel giggled and kicked her feet and Rio moved to the stairs.

"Baby! What are you doing?"

"It's time for the real show to start, Nena," Rio teased, he playfully smacked her ass, "You ready for me?"

"Always."

#siribaesfics #rio x reader #rio x black!reader #rio x blackfem!reader #rio x blackcurvy!reader #good girls fanfiction #black fanfiction #poc fanfiction

[bright-side20]

HOFAS SPOILER (concerning the Cauldron)

_First let's go back to Rhys's explanation of the mating bonds:

“What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

It is clearly stated that the bond can be decided by fate, the mother, or the cauldron.

“There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.” A smile at me—at the rareness, perhaps, of what we had'.…' Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

There are bonds only to provide the strongest offspring, like Rhys's parents or Tamlin's parents bond and there are rare bonds of true paired souls like Feysand and Nessian bond.

HOFAS:

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the daglan captured it and used their power to twist it. To turn it into something more lethal. No longer a tool of creation, but of destruction.

An explanation by a Daglan:

We gathered our power and imbued these gifts in the Cauldron, so that it would work our will. With this, the treasures were made. And then we connected the essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world. Destroy the Cauldron and you destroy this world. One cannot exists without another.

The Cauldron was turned by the Daglan to serve their agenda, and they connected it to Prythian in a way that if anyone tries to destroy it, Prythian will be destroyed as well.

_Now, let's get an idea about the Asteri's aka Daglan breeding system:

Celestina only said, “He departs tomorrow. I shall visit his keep next month if there is not … a change in my situation by then.”If she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

Hunt nodded, even as disgust and rage curled through him. The Asteri had ordered this, done this. They’d make Celestina keep going to Ephraim until she was pregnant with the child they wanted her to bear. Another little Archangel for them to mold into a monster.

Doesn't it sound like 'producing strong' offspring, 'natural function'?

What if the Asteri back in Prythian manipulated the cauldron to create mating bonds, knowing the importance of it for the Fae, so they could benefit from their children and manipulate them?

I don't know why antis kept accusing Elriels of spreading misinformation, considering our conclusions are based on what's written in the books.

The Cauldron literally operates under Daglan's system, so it can't be trusted; indeed, it is not a perfect matching system.

_Let's get back to these important scenes:

"If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”.... “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

Madja here is clearly addressing the real meeting bond—the one of paired souls.

Lucien:

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us. .... “And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for. Even if we had no idea what, precisely, that was.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Azriel :

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

I think this was foreshadowing. Even though a bond exists between them, Lucien wasn't able to sense the change in Elain, while Azriel managed to discern it.

What if the Cauldron's bond between Lucien and Elain, described as 'a thread tied to a rib,' is what was considered a 'natural function'? Yet, there exists another bond between her and Azriel, 'a bridge between souls,' and they are the true paired souls by the mother or the fate . What if the Cauldron was wrong?

I know the antis argument of that means Lucien is stronger than Az, which is why the Cauldron chose him for Elain. When the bond snapped between them, Azriel was out of power, literally dying. It's another reason the Cauldron might be wrong.

Also, the argument: if the Cauldron is corrupted and loves Elain, then she's a villain.

Duh? Why not consider that even though it's corrupted, it recognized Elain's pure heart and her power, the different kind of strength concentrated in her kindness? If she influenced it, maybe she has the ability to fix the Cauldron, turning it back to its original purpose, a tool of creation, not destruction.

#hofas spoilers #pro elain #pro elriel #elriel supremacy #elriel #elain archeron

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

Crave.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

______________________________________

A/N: This started out as an Halloween prompt but morphed into something else entirely.

Today is my birthday. I never really enjoyed celebrating birthdays but this time I wanted to celebrate by gifting you one of my favourite things in the world.

So please enjoy this little fic about desperate whiny subby Jake.

I really can't help myself, as much as I adore mean dom Jake, my heart always leads me to picture him as an absolute whiny mess of a good boy.

He makes me want to ruin him.

This was hardly proofread, sorry for any mistakes.

Join the taglist here

Word count: 4.9K

Pairing: Jake x female!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, oral (m!receiving), anal play, rimming and digital penetration (m!receiving), toys, sub!jake.

Summary: You were mad at each other. What was the worst thing that could possibly happen?

________________________________

The sound of an old western playing on the TV in the living room was starting to get on your nerves as you tried to wrap your head about what you were planning to do.

Jake was sprawled on the sofa, freshly showered, with a throw blanket around his legs and his guitar on his lap.

He was strumming a lazy tune, taking turns between watching the TV and observing you as you worked and gradually lost your mind over the crazy project you had embarked upon because of him.

Jake knew you were fairly talented with the sewing machine, thanks to your grandmother who had taught you everything you needed to know to fix your own clothes.

So he had asked you if you could try to fix his beloved blue jeans that he hardly separated from.

He was basically asking you to perform an extreme rescue operation on them. They were so tattered and torn that you were afraid you would have to toss in the towel and admit defeat.

But Jake had become so attached to them that you really didn't want to let him down.

You had to try at least.

That's why you had spent the entire morning driving around and shopping for any kind of supplies you needed, to perform an action that would have made Doctor Frankenstein jealous.

You had spent the afternoon stitching and unstitching fabric and changing your mind about almost everything you did.

Now the sky was dark outside, your hands were starting to cramp and your fingers hurt from the amount of time you had pierced yourself with the needle. You were starting to lose your mind and on top of that you were starving.

Everything seemed to irritate you the further you went on.

The ticking of the clock on the wall, the buzzing noise of the fridge, the drip of the sink you had never managed to fix were driving you insane the more frustrated you became with the fabric.

But what infuriated you the most was in fact Jake.

He kept staring at you as if he wanted to say or do something. And he had been acting like that the entire day.

In the morning, you had woken up with his needy scorching hot body wrapped around yours and his lips on your neck. You were about to abandon yourself to him but then your eyes had fallen on the alarm clock. You were already late for your errands so with a heavy heart you had to push him away and get dressed quickly.

He had been pouting and huffing ever since that moment, like a child feeling neglected because his mum didn't buy him candies.

He got dressed in silence and even rejected the simple breakfast you offered him, slamming the car door and sighing loudly

When he understood that his behaviour wasn't having his desired effect with you, he decided to plot something else.

You saw the little smirk on his lips the moment the two of you entered the shop.

He disappeared.

You paid his absence no mind and asked the shop assistant about the fabric you were looking for and she motioned you towards a large table completely covered in rolls of said fabric in different colours and shades.

As the shop assistant showed you a roll of what you thought was the perfect choice, you felt Jake’s presence behind you.

He pressed you against the table with his hips, almost imperceptibly for anyone to notice but enough for letting you feel him, hot and hard against your ass.

You were about to ask him what he thought about that fabric when you felt his breathing close to your ear and shivered as he spoke with his raspy voice.

"I don't like it. It looks cheap" he whispered pressing his hips a bit more against yours and then pushing away altogether, succeding in distracting you and leaving your mind completely blank.

He made you turn three different shops completely upside down before deciding what he wanted. And in all three of them he acted like a little brat, pressing himself against you any chance he got and whispering filthy things into your ear that made you blush in front of the shop assistants.

"I wish she wasn't there, so I could press you against this table and make you scream and clench around this neglected cock of mine, angel" he whispered just as you were about to pay for the fabric.

"But maybe she enjoys watching," he continued.

That caused your card to almost slip from your hands and him to snicker in your ear at your clumsiness.

He even had the courage to reprimand you in front of the cashier.

"Careful angel. Here, take my card" he said, handing the cashier his card and succeding in making your blood boil.

So you decided to play his own game and do what irritated him the most.

You kept ignoring him.

Until now, that you needed him to try on his jeans and maybe make the final arrangements.

You had tried a different thing, since mending the rips was impossible without it showing.

You had basted a different layer of jeans fabric, in a slightly darker shade from the original light wash, covering almost the entire leg and creating a contrast that looked great in your opinion.

"Jake, can you come here for a second, please?" You called him from the kitchen.

He huffed and rolled his eyes before slowly placing his guitar on the sofa and standing up, coming into the kitchen and crossing his arm waiting.

You tried your best not to scoff at his behaviour but your hands were hitching for grasping his shoulders and pining him against the wall.

"What?" He asked you as if he really didn't want to be there.

You ignored him and went on as if you hadn't noticed his pout.

"Just try these on for me, I need to see if this fabric is well basted to the leg" you said motioning to the jeans you were holding.

He looked you in the eyes for a few seconds and then, with his eyes still boring holes into yours, he untied his black sweats and let them fall on the ground.

He stepped out of them and then took the jeans from your hands, slowly pulling them up for you to see.

When he had them on, a little smile broke the pout he was still wearing and you felt the tension in the room ease a little.

"Do you like them?" You asked observing how well they fitted him.

"Yeah, I think I do," he told you and smiled.

You noticed a little flaw in the way the two fabrics were basted on the inside of his knee.

"Just, let me check something" you said more to yourself than him, placing a hand on his tummy and pressing him gently against the wall behind him, before dropping to your knees in front of him.

Your fingers slowly reached the inside of his knee and brushed over the fabric.

He gasped and shivered at your touch as if he wasn't expecting that.

You looked up at him, worried.

He wasn't meeting your eyes, his jaw set.

You resumed what you were doing.

You noticed that the problem had affected most of the stitches in the inside of his leg so you turned around to grab the pins to fix it.

Your hand started to make its way upwards on the inside of his thigh towards his crotch.

He tensed at your touch and groaned when your fingers squeezed his muscle.

"Jake, what's wrong?" You asked a little worried.

"Nothing" he answered all too quickly for you to believe him, but you didn't say anything.

You resumed your work and inched your fingers further up his leg.

This time he whimpered and whispered your name.

Your eyes fixated on his face, scrunched up as if he was in pain and then moved downwards, finally becoming aware of the fact that his jeans were becoming tighter and tighter for him.

He twitched in his pants as he saw you were looking right at his crotch.

"Fuck, please" he whispered.

Again, you ignored him.

You started to unstitch the temporary white thread you had used and started to adjust the fabric with your pins.

At some point your fingers slipped and you accidentally stung him on the inside of his thigh.

He whimpered and his hands reached for you. One wrapped around your wrist and the other landed in your hair, caressing you gently.

"Please angel, please" he whispered.

"What do you need, Jake?" You whispered back looking him in the eyes.

"Please, i-it's been all day" he begged, almost whining, desperate.

You pitied him and broke your resolve.

You had tortured him enough.

After all, those big brown doe eyes of his had always been your greatest weakness.

He looked and sounded desperate and you wanted to make him feel good.

You kissed his clothed tummy and you felt his body relax.

His eyes fluttered closed and he whispered a little plea as you lifted his shirt to kiss his soft skin, just underneath his navel.

Your hands pressed on his thighs and you kept nipping and suckling a path down his tummy making him shiver.

You unbuttoned his jeans and slowly slid them a bit down his legs, just enough to expose the grey boxers he was wearing underneath.

His hands quickly reached up to get rid of that item of clothing but you stopped him immediately.

You grasped his wrists and made him place his hands on the wall.

"Keep your hands there, baby. If you move them you are getting nothing." You whispered back looking him in the eyes.

He groaned and tried to complain but all it took was a look from you to stop him.

He realized you meant business.

You tugged at his jeans to bring them further down, to his knees, and then licked a stripe from his navel to the edge of his boxers, before letting go of his shirt to cover him back up.

Then your gaze moved lower and took in the extent of his arousal.

He was undoubtedly hard and straining in his boxers. You could see the outline of his erection pretty clearly.

At that moment you decided to torture him a bit further.

You moved your head closer to him, not enough for your lips to touch him but enough for him to feel your presence and warmth very close.

He begged you again in less than a minute.

He was so needy.

"What's gotten you so riled up, baby?" You questioned letting the elastic band with which you were playing snap against his tummy.

He shook his head and cursed but didn't answer.

He wasn't going to relent.

Unexpectedly you pressed your lips against his covered shaft with a quick peck and he almost doubled over with a groan and grasped your hair with his strong fingers.

You immediately detached from him with a glare that had him apologizing and pressing his hands back against the wall with a defeated sigh, giving you full control.

You pressed your parted lips against him again and moved them gently upwards causing the fabric to drag against him and making him groan.

You reached his head and he cursed when your lips wrapped around him, but still the fabric separated you from his skin.

You sucked at him gently and his hips threatened to push away from the wall but he stopped himself.

You kept your lips there and sucked at him, swirling your tongue against him and wetting the fabric.

A big wet darker spot formed where your saliva was dampening the fabric.

"Fuck, angel" he whimpered and you moved one of your hands from his hip to his upper thigh, caressing the dip between hip and crotch.

A little whiny sound left his lips before he could restrain himself and bite his lips and your hand moved lower.

Your thumb caressed his clothed shaft as your lips kept sucking at his head making him lose his mind excruciatingly slow.

A little sheen of sweat was starting to cover his forehead and he was biting his lips so hard trying not to moan out loud.

Your tongue found the little special spot right under his head that made him tremble and finally you heard his voice, unrestrained and raspy as he moaned.

"Please" he begged already out of breath and you stopped again.

"What got you so worked up, lover boy?" You asked again as your thumb kept stroking up and down his covered shaft.

"N-nothing" he groaned blushing wildly, but you were having none of it.

Something was blocking him from saying what it was.

You stopped the movement of your thumb and he cursed, looking at you absolutely desperate.

"C'mon, baby, tell me, you know you can tell me anything" you whispered.

He shook his head and groaned when you gently grazed your teeth against his tip.

"Angel" he whined, dragging out the word.

"Just please, stop torturing me" he whispered and you started dragging his boxers slightly down.

But then you stopped.

He groaned as you let the fabric end back against him with a loud snap, making him hiss.

"Tell me" you whispered with your lips grazing his erection.

His eyes met yours. Burning and fiery.

"No," he said harshly.

He wasn't going to relent.

So be it.

Your nails dug in his hip and he cursed.

Then your hands trailed lower and he smirked, thinking you were going to give him what he wanted.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Just when you were about to free him from the confines of his boxers, your hand retreated once again, making him curse.

You didn't give him time to do anything because your mouth enveloped his clothed tip and sucked hard, almost making him lose balance.

One of your hands snaked downwards and started massaging his taut balls through the fabric..

He moaned your name loudly, his voice echoing in the room.

You could feel your panties sticking to your skin but every cell of your body was focused on him and his pleasure.

You kept your lips around his tip and with the thumb of your other hand you started caressing his shaft, rock hard and so hot.

"Angel" he warned you.

He was close. His gritted teeth and tense abdomen made you almost feral.

"Think about that forbidden thing you are so adamant about not telling me, baby" you ordered him and his hands squeezed into fists as he bit his lip letting his head fall backwards, exposing his sweaty neck.

You started flicking your tongue on the little spot right under his head, moaning to let him feel the vibrations of your voice against himself and that was it.

"No. Wait…" he tried to say but it was too late.

Before he could stop himself he reached his climax, slamming his hands hard against the wall and coming undone right in his boxers.

The sounds leaving his lips were sinful and made goosebumps raise on your skin.

You felt his warmth spread beneath the wet fabric of his boxers and shivered in need.

He slowly came down from his high and groaned, taking a good look at the state he was in.

"Fuck angel, really?" He complained with a little smirk, "You really made me come in my boxers?!" His incredulous tone made you chuckle.

"I figure I did, lover boy" you whispered and made the wet fabric snap against his hips one last time.

You stood and tried to walk towards your room to get him something clean to wear but he stopped you with a firm grasp on the back of your neck, pinning you to the wall and leaning close to your ear to whisper something.

"You plague my mind all day. And all night too. I dreamt about you doing unspeakable things to me tonight. That's why this morning I was so hard and needy." He bit your bottom hard lip before continuing.

"But all you could think about were those damn pants and you rejected me to go look for a stupid fabric." He rasped into your ear, making you shiver.

"Do you really wanna know what kept me awake tonight and plagued my mind the entire day?" He went on before kissing you passionately.

You nodded and bit his lip back, making him groan.

He pinned you more against the wall and sucked your lobe into his mouth before pressing his lips to your ear and starting to speak.

"I had a dream that you used that damn vibrator I gifted you a couple of months ago to make me come. In my dream it was so messy and hot that I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. When I finally decided I wanted to do something about it you woke up but we had to leave. But I kept imagining it, angel. Fuck I'm imagining it right now." He groaned and pressed his forehead against yours.

Your mind was in overdrive.

"Let's do it. If you want it I want it." You whispered back, shaking lightly.

You were lying. You didn't want it.

You needed it.

You needed to admire him unraveling in front of you.

You had imagined it countless times. But now you wanted to see it with your eyes.

His lips parted in surprise and then he smirked.

"Don't tell me you had already thought about this." He chuckled and you blushed.

"Who knew that my little shy, silent girl had such a dirty mind" he said smugly, laughing.

You pressed your hands on his chest and pushed him backwards until he reached the table.

Then you quickly turned him and pushed his hips against the table with yours.

He cursed.

"Let's see who is going to be the last one laughing, baby" You whispered in his ear from behind.

"Don't you dare move" you ordered him and he groaned but stayed put as you disappeared.

When you came back he was in the same position as before, with his hands on the table and the jeans still around his knees.

One of your hands reached forward and stroked his chest, feeling his sweaty damp shirt, bunching it up and pulling it away from his body altogether.

You started placing little kisses on the junction between his neck and shoulder and when you reached his shoulder you bit down hard.

He arched his back slightly and you pressed him further into the table.

Then you brought the hand you had on his chest downwards keeping the other hidden behind his back.

When you reached his dirty boxers you finally snaked your hand inside and wrapped it around him. He was quickly hardening again and still damp with his previous arousal.

You decided it was time to free him so you bent down behind him and dragged both boxers and jeans down and off his body.

He sighed but gasped when before standing back up you bit down hard on one of his plump ass cheeks.

When you stood, you slowly dragged the black silicone toy you had in your other hand slowly up and down his spine and hips before wrapping both arms around his waist and flicking the toy to life in front of him.

"Are you sure you want this?" You asked, dragging the toy up and down his abdomen every time closer to the place where he needed it.

"Fuck, yes I need it angel." He groaned when both of your hands reached between his legs.

You stroked him a few times with your free hand before trying the toy on him.

When it touched the base of his cock he tensed and growled arching his head backwards.

He almost lost his balance when unexpectedly you moved the toy down the underside of his shaft and made it graze the spot right under his head.

He moaned so loud that you felt a shock wave of pleasure curse through you.

He almost doubled over and gasped for air like never before.

You abruptly stopped.

He cursed and begged you to go on.

You had an idea.

"Jakey, baby, I want you to press your hands on the table and bend forward a little." You whispered in his ear before kneeling behind him.

He obliged, a little confused but shivered when he understood what you wanted to do.

You grabbed his erection gently and started stroking it downwards as he leant his body against the table.

He tensed when you put the tip of the toy right against his balls and little breathy whines started leaving his lips as you combined that with the slow and steady stroking of your fist.

"A-angel, fuckfuck just like this" he moaned.

You started placing little wet kisses on the back of his thighs and goosebumps raised on his skin.

It wasn't the first time you two indulged in such forbidden activities.

So when you asked what he wanted he was quick to answer.

"Your mouth, please angel" he groaned, leaning more of his body against the table.

You wrapped your lips around his tip and moved the toy to graze that little spot behind his balls that made him scream.

"Ah fuck me" he groaned.

You started kissing and licking his balls as you stroked his length with the tip of the vibrator. He was slowly losing his mind, the sounds leaving his lips were becoming louder and louder.

You caught him off guard by licking a slow stripe from the underside of his balls to his hole and he cursed, arching his back.

He slammed his hands on the table and groaned loudly.

His groans morphed into unbridled moans when you kept licking at him, feeling his muscles flutter under your tongue as the hand holding the toy moved gently up and down his length.

He started shaking when the rhythm of your licks picked up and you started pressing the tip of your tongue a little bit more inside him.

You almost lost it yourself when you looked up to the wall in front of you.

Thanks to the perfect placement of the oven, you could steal a look to him while staying behind him, the reflection the glass of the oven door was sending back to you was an image of pure bliss.

He had his eyes closed and his lips parted in ecstasy, his head slightly leant backward exposing his sweaty biteable neck that you had marked so many times.

When the vibrator touched his balls his brows tipped up and he bit his lower lip, stifling a moan, but when you slowly stroked his length and pressed the toy right on the underside of his head his lips parted in a grimace, exposing his teeth. He looked almost in pain, but the sound that left his lips was absolutely far away from it.

He was experiencing the utmost pleasure. His legs were starting to shake.

He whimpered when you brought him to the edge and stopped abruptly, parting from him.

You stood, turned off the vibrator and he panicked.

"Wait, wait, please angel please…" he blabbered, his desperate words overlapping.

You pressed your front to his back and grasped his hips.

Then you brought one of your hands to his throat to silence him and keep him in place.

"Jakey, baby. You have been such a good boy for me." You whispered into his ear and he cursed under his breath at the nickname.

"I want you to tell me exactly what you need." You went on.

"I want your fingers. Inside" he whispered without any shame, shaking with need.

You kissed his ear and praised him again.

Then your hands moved to his wrists making goosebumps raise down his arms.

"Bend over the table, baby" you whispered into his ear.

One of your hands reached to his back and gently pressed him to the wooden surface.

He groaned at the coolness of it and gasped when your lips met the spot between his shoulders blades, and started trailing kisses down his spine.

When you reached his lower back you couldn't contain yourself.

You grasped his plush ass and he chuckled but hissed when your palm connected with ot, looking at how his supple skin giggled.

"What was that for?" He said, sounding a bit vexed.

"For fun baby" you answered and licked a bold stripe against his hole.

"Fuck" he cursed.

You circled his hole repeatedly with the pointed tip of your tongue and then sucked, feeling him flutter and clench beneath your lips.

"Fucking hell" he cursed.

He jolted forward when, unexpectedly, you turned on the toy and placed it right at his hole, keeping it there.

He moaned loudly and his breathing turned ragged when your hand resumed stroking his length.

When you stopped again, he almost sobbed.

"Shh baby, I'm about to give you what you want" you reassured him.

You opened the little bottle of lube you had brought to the kitchen with the toy and wetted one of your fingers before circling it to his hole.

"Still ok with this baby?" You whispered and he answered immediately.

"Yes angel please. Make a mess of me" he whispered and groaned.

It wasn't the first time you touched him there, you had already used your tongue on him a few times but this was the first time he had actually asked you to use your fingers to penetrate him.

You started pressing a finger to his hole incredibly gently and you almost moaned at the way his body started enveloping your digit.

He was panting now. The rising and falling of his glowing body almost made you lose your mind.

You had managed to press your finger inside of him to the knuckle and started moving it in and out of him.

He tensed his body and whimpered, letting a long drawn out breathy moan leave his lips when you turned on the vibrator and pressed it to the little spot right behind his balls.

"A-" he tried to say but you completely shattered his thoughts when you sucked his balls into your mouth and pressed the toy against his frenulum.

You let go of his tensed balls and listened to the beautiful symphony of his heavy breathing, moans and whimpers.

You experimentally curled your fingers downwards and he screamed your name, almost losing balance.

His knees buckled and his back arched. You felt his muscles flutter around your finger and you almost came untouched right there.

You slowed the rhythm of your finger but he didn't want that. He started pressing his hips back against you quickly.

He tried to warn you again, but you didn't give him time.

Your finger curled a bit more sharply against the forbidden spot inside of him while you simultaneously kept the toy down the length of him. The length of it, so similar to him, allowed you to keep it pressed entirely against him, from his tip to his balls, making him let out a loud string of curses and moans.

You moaned too and without thinking bit down harshly on his ass cheek.

He completely lost himself at that. The invisible thread tethering him to reality broke and he unraveled beautifully in front of your eyes.

His body started shaking violently and his knees buckled. He kept his balance only thanks to the table or he would have crumbled on the floor.

His arched back was a sight to behold together with his dampened hair sticking to his back as he threw his head backwards in pleasure.

The sounds leaving his lips were heavenly and absolutely unrestrained.

They were going to haunt your every living moment and plague your most forbidden thoughts.

His come coated your hand and the black toy you were holding.

You turned it off and let it fall on the ground without any recollection of it. You were too enraptured by what had just happened.

His breathing started to calm down only after several minutes.

You stood and hoped he was ok.

You circled the table and saw that he had his cheek pressed to the table and his eyes closed, his hands still closed into fists.

His hair was a mess, sticking to his skin and damp with sweat.

You caressed him and he purred.

"Are you here with me, lover boy?" You asked and he chuckled.

"I think I just got my soul ripped from my body, my little naughty angel" he said, his voice raspy and spent.

He sounded so sexy that he made you want to do what you had just done all over again.

_____________________________

Taglist: @gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jessicafg03 @doodle417 @hellowgoodbye @ejoygvf @jaketlover @jakekiszkasbabymama @objectsinspvce @indigostreakmorgan @witchofendora @myleftsock @gretavanshmeat @gretasfallingsky @giraffehippy @jennasometimesreads @katiegvf @sinarainbows @laney_gvf @themorningbirds @starcatcherchords @lipstickitty @meetingthestardust @joshskittytickler @livkiszka @twistedmelodies @ignite-my-fire @gvfmarge @writingcold

[yuurivoice]

Laying in bed having a think.

As I try and tackle three intertwined (four? fuck) narrative stories more meticulously than I've crafted any of my narratives thus far, I find myself making several realizations.

BitterSweet is a product of me being at several mental low points but failing upwards. BitterSweet wasn't even intended to be a real narrative, but rather an introduction to Seth then sort of a choose you own adventure, listen to either "path" type thing. When the story revealed itself to me it was very exciting, but I was just going episode to episode and seeing where I'd end up.

Chapter 2 had more planning, a pretty defined outline, and was executed just about to perfection. I think 2 is probably the strongest in terms of knowing wtf was going on and seeing it through.

Chapter 3 is one I feel deeply conflicted about. Plans had to change on the fly multiple times. The scale got out of hand. I was on the struggle bus and only managed to write an episode two at once. It was a mess. We hit some high marks, and some of my favorite performances are in there, but there's this dark cloud over it for me. It's a shame, but it got done.

I can see really clearly how my struggle with my mental health, ADHD, etc. played significant roles in hindering me. So on one hand, I'm thrilled that I was able to make something cool that so many people appreciate and enjoy despite how challenging it was. On the other hand...there's a lot I wish could have been different.

Those wishes have informed many of the choices I'm making now as I tackle Shattered and Echoes, as well as BitterSweet and the unnamed thing. I'm not hitting the big red launch button until it is complete. I've never done that. But I want my writing to be tighter and more cohesive. I'm lucky that making shit up as I went and hitting the broader strokes I knew were there worked out as well as it did, but also I've tripped over myself a time or two.

As ambitious as I'm trying to be with weaving these stories, I want to make sure that when you step back and look at the big picture, it makes sense, but is also really fucking dope.

That's my hope.

This next batch of work is going to be special for me. I'm in my medicated era, but I'm working with a lot of the bones put in place by a version of me that was operating well below capacity.

Reading those first drafts I wrote last year was humbling. God they were bad. Frustratingly so because when I took a hammer to it, what I cooked up in significantly less time on the second draft was so much better than what felt like I had to pull teeth to accomplish before.

I try and tell myself not to look at all of my work through that lens of "I could have done so much better" but it's frustrating. I've gotta cook with the groceries that version of me brought home lol.

It boils down to this. When these next projects launch and the dust settles, I don't want to be glad it's over. When I finished BS3, I breathed a sigh of relief because it felt like I just got out of a year long brawl.

When I finish these projects, I want to be proud. I think that's the conclusion I reached. I was not proud of my work, because it was tainted with compromise and frustration that outside factors fucked with several aspects of it.

So I'm trying to prove to myself that I can do better than that. For myself. I've shaken off the frustration that I'm an entire year behind schedule. I've committed myself to completing it all before it sees the light of day. I've streamlined the process. I really tried to set myself up for success.

When I was struggling I'd cut every corner, I'd phone it in, I'd toss out ambitious ideas for the sake of just being able to call it done.

There's a lot less of that happening now. I'm able to at least try and hold myself to something resembling a standard. Now I just hope I can execute.

Thanks for reading. Sorry about all of whatever that was.

[chasedbyatlantic]

nightclub love, joel miller

masterlist summary: IN WHICH — your best friend, maria miller, sets you up with someone she knows you'll fall in love with in no time, despite it being your co-worker.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, gender neutral!reader, slow burner-ish, maria love, dom-ish!joel, cutesie patootsie dina, drinking, touching-ish, swearing. lmk if i missed anything!

wordcount: 2.9k

a/n: should i make a pt 2?? love this one icl! remember to reblog, like, comment, and follow for updates!! also make sure to send requests! xoxo.

—

For weeks, you had been preparing. Maria, your best friend, had begged and begged you to help with her famous (and upcoming) Summer Solstice Party. Every year since Jackson had been up and running (and Maria was in charge), she hosted this party. She had aimed it to be a night of normalcy, a night to remember what had happened before the world went to shit. It was successful, these parties. You had enjoyed the partying aspect of it, not so much the setup.

In your post-apocalyptic life, you were a painter. You had lived and breathed art, you had even got into MIT for the arts program, but the world ended before you were able to start your post-secondary tour. Though, after everything happened in the early two thousands, you discovered your hidden talent for hunting, and being able to operate firearms quite easily. This lead you to many successes in protecting yourself while you were out on your own, and being able to protect others while leading them outside of the Jackson walls.

Maria had appointed you as the co-leader of the "Jackson Protectors" (something Tommy, Maria's husband, had came up with). After Maria had her baby, Tommy had decided to step down from the role to spend time with his family, and make sure he was always there for his newborn baby and his wife. Maria had only thought of you for the person to step up and take on such a big responsibility, so she didn't really give you a choice in co-leading the group. You hadn't minded, though, it was nice to get out of the walls.

Maria's annual party was only a few hours away now, and you had finally brought over the piece she asked you to make. It was an oil and acrylic painting of the beloved town you all had resided in, she wanted to put it behind the bar (in the town's pub, called "The Nightclub"), so that everyone was able to see the beautiful artwork you were able to create so easily.

"Hello?" You called out as you pushed open the wooden door with your foot, your arms were too occupied carrying the canvas that your foot was the next best option to get the door. There wasn't a response, so you had just proceeded in. Glancing around, you had seen that the bar was turned into a nice hall. Tables were pushed to the outskirts of the room, chairs had pieces of colourful string tied on the backs and legs, the stage was decorated, everything felt so warm.

You had moved your way over to the bar, spotting a tool kit sitting on the counter. It was perfect, you could hang this now and have it be a surprise for Maria whenever she went in the room next. Tucking the canvas under your arm for a split second, you went behind the bar and reached into the tool kit. You had gotten a few flat-head nails out, along with a mallet. You had lined up the nails along the middle of the empty space on the wall, gently nailing them in before hanging your painting up.

Before you could double check that it was nailed in straight, you heard an 'eek!' coming from behind you. You could only recognize it as your best friend, Maria Miller. "Oh my god! It's the most beautifulest thing I have ever seen!" You felt the girl embrace you from behind, this made you fold your arms upward and return the hug (without turning).

"Was nervous ya' wouldn't like it." You chuckled as she let go, you turned around. "Wouldn't like it?" Maria had questioned, "Are you kidding me? I love every piece of art you do." She embraced you in a proper hug now, and you hugged her right back with a smile on your face. You were honestly nervous that she wouldn't like it, and you had braced yourself for any feedback she might've given you.

Maria had let go of the hug, now holding your shoulders. "I have a surprise for you." The smile dropped off your face, you didn't like surprises. Surprises before were nice, but not in this hell-bound world. "What?" You were doubly as nervous about this than with the painting. "Okay, so, I've set you up with someone at tonight's part-"

"You what?" You interrupted the woman in front of you. Oh no, no no no. Your facial expression fell even more after this. "Don't worry! He's a good boy, I promise. You'll love him- please, just please cooperate with this." Maria had pled with you. You could only stare at her, like you were dumbfounded by what she was saying. In reality, you were far from dumbfounded, you just didn't know why she would do this without consulting you first.

You waited a moment before you replied, "Am I able to back out?". Maria could only smile at you, indicating that you most definitely would not be able to back out of this. After a moment of silence between the two, you couldn't help but let out a small laugh while shaking your head. "'M not forgiving you for this, woman."

You had walked out from behind the bar, leaving Maria there. You knew she had much more organizing (things she had made clear she wanted to do by herself, otherwise you would've helped her) to do before tonight. "I'll drag you out of your house if you don't show up tonight, mark my words!" She laughed as she called out to you. Right before exiting the bar, you waved her off, a small 'yeah, yeah!' escaping your lips. You knew that Maria had good intentions setting you up with someone she knew, but you didn't think it was going to go well. God, you thought to yourself, if this party doesn't go well, a hole would be dug and that would be your new home.

You had put on a nice outfit for tonight. The temperature had rose a ton (despite it being dark) since earlier, which had confirmed your questioning of what you should attend the party in. You had showered, fixed your hair, sprayed perfume, and put on some lip products you found inside the bathroom cabinets before making the treacherous walk through hell's half acre to get back to the bar.

You were neighbours with Maria, and she lived in the farthest part of the town. It didn't help when you had events like this, or the long trail to and from work in the early mornings and late nights. Thankfully this was only the third time you made this hike today, earlier going and coming back from dropping the painting off, and now. If Maria and Tommy hadn't given you a few days off of work, you probably wouldn't have went to the party. Work was exhausting, especially when it was hot outside.

You had your hands in your pocket as you were walking, humming to yourself. You were ripped out of your thoughts as you heard someone call your name, you turned immediately to spot a familiar brown-haired girl. "Hey." You nodded over to her, as you slowed your pace so she was able to catch up. This was Talia's (a friend of yours) younger sister, Dina.

"Hi! You're going to the party, right? I'm so excited." You could only bring a smile to your face, nodding your head. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." Dina mimicked the smile you had on your face. You two had talked for a while as you approached closer to the bar. You had found out that she was so to-the-moon for this party because someone she had liked asked her out, and they were attending together. You had given Dina the 'make sure you're safe' and whatnot talk, since apparently Talia hadn't.

As soon as you had gotten to the bar, Dina had bid you a goodbye with a tight hug, before running off and finding her date. You couldn't remember when you had been happy like that. Sure, you were happy a lot of the times, but never beaming. There was too much worrying in this world to ever be beaming anymore, as depressing as that sounds. Not getting into it too much, you had finally stepped into the bar.

You were immediately engulfed with the scent of whiskey, sweat, and good food. Despite what had you had just said, this brought a genuine smile to your face. Seeing people just embracing the current moment, and having no worries for just a little while- who couldn't smile at this?

You had glanced around, looking for Maria. Though you didn't see her, you saw the next best thing. "Hey, Tommy! Have you seen your wife?" The man had turned, raising his brow before he had seen you. "Hey- naw', pro'lly runnin' 'round somewhere, being a hostess and whatnot." He passed you a smile before taking a sip from his dark brown bottle. You smiled and nodded.

You shortly found your way over to the bar, ordering the strongest of whatever they had. You had recognized the bartender from around town, but had decided not to make conversation with him. He passed you the drink in a glass cup, before going back to serving others. You had brought the edge of it to your lips, sipping the amber liquid. Holy fuck, you thought to yourself, this was some strong shit.

Before you had muttered a string of swear words under your breath, something- someone had caught your attention. A hand was placed on the bottom of your back, and you shifted your weight a little. Earlier it was mentioned that you were the leader of the "Jackson Protectors", Joel Miller (Tommy's older brother) shared the role with you. He was tall and extremely muscular, and was definitely older than you.

"Sorry, peach. Just gotta squeeze on in 'ere." Joel had muttered, just loud enough for you to hear. He let the nickname roll off his tongue, although you didn't think anything of it. Nobody would hear, as the bar area was packed like a can of sardines and extremely loud from the many different conversations happening. Joel had ordered something on draft, you didn't really hear.

You had never really seen him outside of work, only a handful of times. You wouldn't have taken Joel as a party type of guy, he was extremely closed off and- well, alone. Not in a rude way, no, but in a protective way. "How's it goin'?" He had asked you, "Noticed ya' haven't been in for a few days." Joel's hand was no longer on the low of your back, but gripping the tall, glass cup. He was leaning his elbow against the bar top, as you were leaning your back against it.

"Way too busy, I've sort of- I'dunno, missed it? Work, ya' know." It came out of more of a question rather than a statement. This only earned a laugh from the man across from you. "I get what ya' mean, felt like that when my arm broke-" He let out a small laugh, "-had nothin' to keep me occupied, wishin' I was out'n huntin' things." You nodded your head as you took another sip from the glass in your left hand, keeping your face neutral this time.

"Ya' didn't come across as the type to like- well, things like this." You hinted toward Joel. He shrugged his shoulder, taking another sip from his cup. "'M not, never was." You had an almost concerning look now, why was he here if he didn't like these types of things? "-But," Joel quickly added, "Figured I'd try it out after all these years o'not goin', ya' know?" You could only nod your head. It was true, you've never seen Joel Miller attend anything other than his daily work shift. Maybe he had a change of heart, but you didn't know if you really believed it.

Joel had started to talk about something else, but for some reason, you had zoned out. Your best friend had caught your eye from right behind Joel, so you were now focused on her. It didn't take long for her to notice you staring at her, and her face turned upwards. She was mouthing something to you, but you couldn't make sense of what it was. After squinting your eyes, and Maria repeating it twice more, it hit you. She had mouthed 'that's the one'.

Your expression fell as you snapped back into reality. Really? Your work partner? You weren't saying Joel was ugly, or had an ugly personality (far from that, actually), but you couldn't mess around with someone you worked with. "You alright?" Your eyes moved from just above Joel's shoulders to meet his gaze. You nod your head before almost feeling lightheaded, you were going to kill Maria.

"Do ya' know how to dance?" You spit out before thinking it through. You were pretty sure you didn't have a crush on Joel Miller, but- no buts, you had thought to yourself. You couldn't, if something bad went wrong, you would still have to work with this man every single day. You could slap yourself right about now.

"Drunk words're sober thoughts, eh?" He asked (rhetorically) to you, which had earned a true, dumbfounded look on your face. You only managed to let a "huh?" escape your lips, and Joel shook his head with a small laugh. "Nevermind, c'mon." His hand fell to the bottom of your back once again, and before you knew it, you were walking with him to the packed dance floor. You could feel the eyes of conservative mothers on you, probably spreading lies about how you two did this at work. It wasn't true (not yet at least).

You two got on the floor, and Joel let go of your back. He moved his hands more forward, placing them on either sides of your hips. You looked down, an immediate heat rising to your cheeks. It was the alcohol, you told yourself (only half of that statement was true). Your actions took over your thoughts as your arms wrapped around Joel's neck, the only thing running through your head was if you still smelled like the perfume you put on earlier.

The song had changed, it turned into a slower one- one that you were able to dance to properly. "Now, I'ain' gone dancin' in years, so don't go too hard on me if I mess up, alright peach?" There it was again, peach. The nickname was given to you by Joel a while ago, after you had found a peach tree while out on a run with him. Joel thought it had really fit you and your personality, so he didn't give it up.

You laughed, probably louder than you should have, "Don't worry, I'm not any professional neither." You were following Joel's lead, following where he put his feet. You never learned to dance properly, there was never anybody to teach you. You had managed to step on his toes a few times, but there was no yap from him about it. Joel was- enjoying himself, the first time in a (long) while.

"You didn't have to," You had began, the drunken thoughts taking over you, "I know Maria put y'up to this, it doesn't need to go further than dancin'." You could feel Joel's grip tighten slightly on your waist, something you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't so focused on him. "I wanted to," He quickly reassured you, "Just had to make sure ya' wouldn't- I'dunno, not let me?" You could tell Joel was being genuine, the tone was in his words. This was the first time the man had ever let you in on what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

You two talked and danced for another while, before the party started to die down into the early hours of the morning. You found out he didn't live too far away from you, so you both accompanied each other on the walk home. You too were far too drunk to be walking alone anyway, despite the town being safe. Joel's house was first on the way back, but he had decided to walk the few extra blocks to make sure you got home okay.

As you got home, you had fumbled with the front gate before stepping in and closing it behind - it was only two feet high, so you could still bid your goodbyes to Joel. You had turned around once the gate was shut, his eyes already down on you. "Had fun tonight, almost too much fun." This brought your face up into a smile, nodding your head. "Guess I better-"

"Can we do this again sometime?" You had interrupted Joel, catching him a bit off. "Only if ya' wanna." You had bit your lip, bracing yourself in case he were to say no. Thankfully, he didn't- far from a no. "Wasn't thinkin' we wouln't go out again, now were ya'?" You two were very close, close enough that he could hear the spike in your breathing pattern. "I'll see ya' tomorrow?" You questioned, your hand on top of the fence post. Joel followed suit, his calloused hand now overtop of yours. "I'll pick 'ya up, bright'n early."

You thought this was going to go horribly earlier, you really believed it was. You didn't want to fall for anyone, because you didn't know how much time everyone had left- you were afraid of loss, afraid of losing the people you got close to. You were scared that one day, you would wake up and they would be gone. Within a span of a day, though, you had gotten over the fear of loss. You had found someone who was just like you, but also the complete opposite in many ways. You knew, for a fact, that you had just found someone else you trusted with so much in you, he wasn't just someone you worked with anymore. Who knows, he could turn into something more with time to come, and you almost hoped he would.

—

nightclub love, matt maltese

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou #tlou2 #joel the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel x you #joel x reader #x reader #gn reader #chasedbyatlantic #joel #miller #the last of us #dina #dina tlou #dina the last of us #ellie williams the last of us #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #miller tlou #f reader #female reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #maria miller

[newtype-difference]

Continuing my little gunpla review series, I wanna say thank you so much to everyone that liked and reblogged my Demi Trainer post! It means so much to me and every like I get on it makes me incredibly happy <3

This review is gonna be all about...

Gundam Lfrith Thorn

I wasn't expecting to build this kit so soon but I saw it in my local nerd store and I just had to pick it up, I really love the design on this one and I can't wait to tell yous all about it! Building this felt like an appropriate step-up from the Demi Trainer.

Lfrith Thorn in the Show

(Spoilers for Mobile Suit Gundam the Witch from Mercury episode 12 and beyond ahead)

EDM-GA-02 Gundam Lfrith Thorn is a Gundam-type mobile suit developed by Ochs Earth Corporation for Dawn of Fold, the anti-spacian organisation. It's a heavily modified version of the XGF-01 Gundam Lfrith Pre-Production Model, which can be seen in the prologue episode of the show.

This Gundam is piloted by Norea Du Noc, a member of Dawn of Fold. She was trained from a young age to be a mobile suit pilot, and has strong ideals and a deep hatred of all spacians. She's a hot-headed earthian terrorist who believes in attaining the organisation's goals through violence. A perfect pilot for this offensive-oriented Gundam!

As I mentioned previously, Lfrith Thorn is a heavily modified version of the Lfrith Pre-Production Model, which allows the Lfrith Thorn to utilise GUND technology. It was created alongside the Lfrith Ur, and the two can be seen as sort of sisters, as one compensates for the other's weaknesses. It's a very cool dynamic that I really enjoyed seeing in the show!

Lfrith Thorn is seen multiple times throughout the show, but main appearances include episode 12, when it attacks Plant Quetta alongside the Lfrith Ur. It also appears in episode 14, fighting in the Rumble Ring and causing mayhem, once again alongside the Lfrith Ur. We see it once more in episode 20, when Norea goes on a rampage in Asticassia, before she is calmed down by Elan Ceres and her Gundam is subsequently destroyed by the security forces. Seeing this Gundam in action was always a pleasure to see in the show, and Norea's hot-headed yet focused personality really made it stand out as an effective combat mech, especially when paired with Lfrith Ur! I wish we got to see more of it but what we did see was an absolute treat.

The Design of Lfrith Thorn

I. LOVE. THIS. DESIGN. SO MUCH! It's so cool and it all makes sense for what this Gundam is supposed to achieve! It can look quite goofy, especially with those long arms and chunkier legs, but there's purpose to that design choice! Lfrith Thorn excels at offensive skirmishes and intense combat scenarios, providing heavy fire support to her sister, Lfrith Ur.

Lfrith Thorn comes equipped with a variety of weapons that allow it to adapt to any combat situation. It's primary weapon is the beam diffuse gun, a large firearm that fires energy scatter beams. It can be wielded with one hand or with both, allowing for more accurate and focused fire. Beam saber units are stored within the Lfrith Thorn's forearms, allowing for quick deployment when engaging in melee combat. It can also equip beam sabers on its hand if needed, though this Gundam is better suited for longer-range combat. A long and narrow shield can be seen on it's right arm, which can be used to deflect incoming fire, though it is not particularly effective due to how small it is. The huge cannon mounted on Lfrith Thorn's back is the phased array cannon. It fires a powerful beam which allows for wider-ranged attacks. This cannon is only operable when the Gundam's permet score reaches 3 or higher, making it a very risk-reward oriented weapon!

Considering how heavy all of these weapons are on this Gundam, it's very important for it to keep stable when fighting on the ground. This is where those goofy design choices I mentioned earlier come in! The heavy legs and longer arms result in a lower center of gravity, making the Lfrith Thorn more stable when providing fire support! The thrusters on it's rear waist also offer extra stability, being able to counter the recoil and pushback from sustained fire if needed. Even the feet are used for stability, being able to dig into any softer ground material the Lfrith Thorn may be standing on, and providing even more stability! Everything about this design is so coherent, despite it's inherent goofiness, and I absolutely am in love with it!

Naturally, one would compare the Lfrith Thorn and Lfrith Ur, as they are often seen in combat together. You can see the more support-oriented design philosophy of the Lfrith Thorn when looking at both Gundams side by side. Despite the heavy weaponry, the frame of the mech is visibly more lightweight, allowing the Lfrith Thorn to reposition more easily. The Lfrith Ur is meant to be on the frontline, while the Lfrith Thorn supports it from afar. It's an awesome dynamic and I think both Gundams are designed really well around this cooperation!

In the first section of this review I mentioned that the Lfrith Thorn is a modified version of the Gundam Lfrith Pre-Production Model, and you can definitely see some aspects of that design incorporated into this one! You can see this mainly in the body of the Gundam, as it retains that flatter, more extruded chest to house the pilot and shell unit. The back-mounted cannons are still present in both designs, though the cannons themselves are quite different between the Lfrith Thorn and the Pre-Production Model. You can also see a more refined version of the shoulder pads, as they are more exaggerated and armoured on the Lfrith Thorn.

Honestly, researching Lfrith Thorn led me down a very deep rabbit hole when it comes to design inspirations and origins and I feel like I could make a family tree that connects MANY of the Gundam designs in this show!

Building the Kit

Much like the Demi Trainer, this was super fun to build! I was so excited to finally build a Gundam, and this did not disappoint, for the most part!

A lot of the same satisfying aspects of building the kit itself that I mentioned in my Demi Trainer review can be said here too. Fitting all the pieces together, hearing the clicks and seeing it come together is extremely satisfying and enhances the experience a lot! The stickers on this kit are more complex, and you have more choice with them, namely being able to either put stickers on it that show the Lfrith Thorn with no permet score, or a high permet score. I decided to use the high permet score stickers of course, because that looks a lot cooler to me! I found these stickers really tough to put on, as some of them are really small and need a lot of precision to place properly, and this was only my second kit. I hadn't developed a strategy for placing stickers yet and it shows in some parts of my build.

The Lfrith Thorn kit comes with a few extra pieces that allow for some really neat customisability! For example, you have the option of using a closed hand, which allows the Lfrith Thorn to hold weapons, or an open hand, which can look dramatic and badass when posing it. Even that small amount of choice with the kit makes for a lot of different things you can do with it and I think that's awesome!

As much as I love Lfrith Thorn and as much as I enjoyed building this kit, I do have a few complaints with it. To start, I personally find that the head movement on this kit is very limited, and the head has fallen off of my kit many times when I was trying to pose it and make it look in certain directions. I understand there being limitations in the range of movement, but I find it to be a little bit too limited here. I also think that the beam sword pieces are a little too easy to bend, and I recommend taking extra good care to not put too much force on them when handling them. Mine are very slightly misshapen now, and while it's not too exaggerated, it still sucks to see.

Other than that though, the kit was super fun to build, and it's by far the easiest to pose when comparing all of the kits I've built so far! The stable design philosophy of the Lfrith Thorn actually translates really well to this kit, and it's noticeably more stable to pose than other kits! It was really cool to see honestly and noticing that inspired me to start this series in the first place, so thank you Lfrith Thorn!

Once again, thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged my previous post, seeing the attention my Demi Trainer review got inspired me to continue with this, and I want to make even more reviews and design studies now! As always, constructive criticism is welcome, as well as likes and reblogs!

I'm hoping to get those action base kits at some point so I can have more freedom in posing my kits, so look forward to that!

#EDM-GA-02 Gundam Lfrith Thorn #lfrith thorn #gundam #gundam lfrith thorn #g witch #witch from mercury #review #gunpla #gundam witch from mercury #norea du noc #mecha

[metannoyuhhh]

I just saw a TikTok about the fears and motivations of TMAGP and I don’t think I can sleep until I get this out.

So the main big bad(s) of The Magnus Archives was the fears and their entities and artifacts. All the main characters and statement givers, if not the rest of the world, were effected by them. Motivated by them even.

Even if someone wasn’t experiencing one of the fears firsthand, a connection to someone who has or even just a read through of a particular statement could motivate one to do so much.

Jon had The Web first. He experienced Mr. Spider at such a young age and his fear of spiders carries on for as long as he does. Then it was The Eye, the position he presumably worked so hard for turned out to be far more sinister. He was trapped and he was paranoid and he was surrounded solely by other paranoid victims. And yet, this fear did nothing but push Jon to do more research, to find what was going on, and to fix it. He was scared and he was tearing himself and his relationships apart but he saved the world, at least once.

Martin was Lonely for a long time, making him a perfect candidate to be taken under Peters Lukas’ wing. He was isolated from the beginning, watching his family and friends drop one by one like flies. Close to the end he felt he had no choice but to give in. He probably knew it was wrong to give himself up to The Lonely but if that meant saving what was left that he cared for, he’d do it every time.

Tim was such a doting big brother who lost his other half in such a devastating and horrific way. His brother was picked off by The Stranger when his curiosity got the better of him and his best friend was murdered and replaced and he didn’t even notice for months. His fear turned to aggression and his aggression turned to vigor to research and fight to do his damn best to stop The Unknowing, and he did.

In The Magnus Archives, fear and trauma is what motivates people. It’s the rush of adrenaline that gets people moving and fighting. And while sometimes it’s also to get something they want (a better world, to save someone, revenge) there is always trauma that comes first. You cannot have the motivation and obsession shown in TMA without having experienced the fears in one way or another.

I think The Magnus Protocol is going to flip this on it’s head. Instead of fear fueling motivation, it’s going to be motivation that leads to the fear and trauma.

Gwen is a perfect example of this. She’s so dedicated to her job and so obsessed with filing things accurately so that she can work her way up to the managers role. And I think her precision and dedication to the statements and the knowledge they hold will put her straight into The Eye’s influence, or maybe even The Web.

Sam is a similar case, his curiosity about the files is going to lead him to something unsavory that he won’t be able to get out of.

In The Magnus Protocol everyone wants something. Gwen wants power, Sam wants knowledge, Colin wants to get ahold of this strange computer system, and I think Chester and Norris most all want each other.

I think Jon and Martins love for each other, their wanting to be together and still sacrificing that in hopes of bringing the world back fundamentally changed the way this world operates. They wanted to be together so they came back in the form of our little text to speech bots, they will always be together now, even if that means being trapped in a desktop from the 90’s.

The Magnus protocol is going to be about wants, and I think that is going to be apparent very soon as Colin works on the app more and as Sam dives deeper into the files and as Gwen works her way up the corporate ladder.

It may even be that these characters become entities because of their wants. Like the woman in episode two who wanted to perfect her art and herself at the cost of her physical appearance and relationships. It really wouldn’t even shock me if my the end of this all of our main characters will have succumbed to a fear in some way, except for maybe Alyce.

#my brain is so big rn #so full of thoughts #and tumblr is my only place to put them #tmagp #the magnus protocol #chester tmagp #norris tmagp #alyce dyer #colin becher #samama khalid #gwendolyn bouchard #jon sims #martin blackwood

[tinyvesselhearts]

What Fear Does to People (Egon x You)

It's Chapter 8 of my series Thing Is but can be read as a standalone.

Rating: Mature (descriptions of violence) Pairing: Egon Spengler x You (no Y/N) Others: "Platonic" bed-sharing, pre-relationship, gentle touching, hurt/comfort, ghosthunting, Lovecraftian monsters, Ray's recovering from a bust and he's not currently at the station

(also: a reference to GB game. If you know, you know)

It’s roughly 2 a.m. when it starts.

Egon wakes up with a shiver. He’s freezing. A gust of wind runs through his clothes and that in itself is enough to put him on guard. Thing is, all the windows are closed, both of you are covered with quilts and there’s no tangible cause for the cold. No rational excuse, unless…

With mounting suspicion, he takes a look around. It’s pitch black and he can barely make out the edges of Ray’s empty cot. Warmth of the linen seems to hit him all at once, stark contrast to what he’s just felt on his skin. Disconcerting. Eerie, maybe— but he’s calm nonetheless. This is how those entities operate. The Collective: all kinds of eldritch horrors. They’re playing hide- and- seek until their victims can’t keep their wits about them anymore and he— as a devoted scientist and a Ghostbuster (yes, the very same)— is here to teach a lesson.

You’re unabashedly curled up against his side. Safe, unbothered, sound asleep. The attacker must be considering you innocuous enough, likely due to your comparative vulnerability, and is focused on Egon. Perfect. He lays his head back but doesn’t close his eyes— he’s vigilant— alert— ready.

The thing about Collective Unconscious is that despite being aware of its modus operandi, human brain is pretty pathetic in comparison. Its innate susceptibility to fear, specifically. During his years of Psychology, Egon would repeatedly hear that fear and love were the strongest of all human instincts, as they made the whole body receptive and focused in an instant. Later he’d find out that’s true about fear. He has no first- hand data on the latter— he supposes due to the troubled relationship with his parents— but Peter and Ray have done enough stupid things out of affection to confirm the thesis. Since Venkman’s incident with the tank a few years back, Egon hasn’t questioned love or its impact on a subject’s decision- making process. Or common sense. Or mating choices, just to be clear.

With that in mind, Egon knows what to expect. Diminished control of his body. Flinches. Unconditioned reflexes. He is determined to distinguish between real, physical stimuli and paranoia- induced ploys. A moment to cool off, analyze and conclude before acting on impulses. That’s the plan. Right. It’s easy in theory.

A distant bang echoes in the garage. It resembles a metal tool— a wrench, maybe?— but the sound is followed by nothing else, so Egon decides it’s nothing but a figment of imagination. Until—

“What was it?”

He leans back. He can’t see your face properly but enough to notice your eyes are open.

“…Oh. You’ve heard it too?”

“It’s not like… Ray got discharged in the middle of the night and sauntered back here, is it?”

There’s another loud bang. Nobody moves but both of you are very much awake.

Egon finally speaks.

“I’ll check it.”

“Uh, okay, okay”, you whisper. “What do I do?”

“Stay here and try to sleep. I’ll handle it.”

“…what?”

“Don’t argue. There’s no time. I’ll take care of whatever that is. I’m a professional, listen to me and I’ll make sure you’re safe. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Yes, but the Ghostbusters are a team. Now you’re on your own. I’m not leaving you! What if—”

“No time”, he mutters, putting the proton pack on. “Stay here. You were so tired you almost passed out on the couch. Do I need to remind you that you put my shirt on backwards?”

“My mom says it’s good fortune!”

“I’m serious”, he states and switches the backpack on. “Eldritch horrors are different than regular spirits. They harm both physically and emotionally. Lack of proper rest weakens the cognitive functions and you may be a real, tangible danger to yourself— and to me. Especially if you’re not familiar with their strategy.”

Egon slides into a pair of slippers. It’s not the perfect job attire but it’ll have to do— he stupidly left his combat boots in the locker downstairs. Maybe when he slides down to the garage, he’ll manage to change.

He takes the final look at you because you’re awfully quiet. Exhausted and hopeless, he guesses. He’d appreciate some backup but the boys aren’t here and you’re in no position to fill the role now. When you ignored his precaution the last time (while fully capable and well- rested), you ended up wounded in his lab. What you’re facing here can do much, much more damage.

Egon briefly considers escorting you out of the premises altogether—just in case— but then, how could he ensure your safety if the spirit decides to leave after you?

His chest is heavy when he speaks.

“If anything suspicious happens in this room, call me immediately. Shout, if you have to.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright”, he shoots you a look. “Stay here.”

You nod. It’s weak, devoid of conviction and Egon wants to emphasize how crucial it is for you to stay— but another loud bang comes from the reception area and there’s no time to waste.

Egon turns around and scuttles towards the pole. He slides down. Lands with a loud thump, doubled by the flip- flops and takes a slow, cautious look around.

He’s quick to spot the source of the noise: it’s a loose pipe lying on the floor. It might not be currently moving but it sure as heck was just a moment ago— Ray doesn’t leave spare parts scattered around the floor. He has his secret dirty stash for that.

Egon takes a long, wary look around. Nothing’s moving, except for gentle flow of a dirty cloth drying on the heater. He pulls out the PKE meter and glances at the readings. Whatever this thing is, it’s here. It may be invisible but it’s here. Lurking. Leering. Hidden in the shadow, a predator on the hunt. Any moment now.

He doesn’t even manage to slide the device back into the pocket when a slimy tentacle shoots at him.

It’s massive. Heavy and slick. Whatever creature it belongs to, it must be huge and, uh, incredibly unusual. The dissonance is almost incomprehensible: to see a wet, marine limb which acts very much alive here— in the garage of New York’s finest— in a place devoid of water (well, save for a tap).

Egon screams. He drops the PKE meter and reaches for the charged rod. A proton stream lashes outwards with full power but before it catches the giant limb, it’s already gone— slithered into the shadows, shrouded in shade.

A few things to note right away: one, the ghost is huge. Two, it’s unlike any other they’ve seen before. Three, the sheer amount of mucus suggests a healthy dose of Marsh genes. Four, it’s out of sight and apparently good at staying there. Right. All Egon has to do is pretend to be unsuspecting, so that the ghost—

“Yeah, so I’ve done some thinking and I can’t do this.”

He whips his head around. There you are: in his crumpled shirt still inside- out, peeking through the hole in the ceiling. You’re in the middle of putting on your socks.

He can’t with you. He can’t.

“What did I tell you? Don’t come down here!”

“Oops?”

“No”, he yells. “I told you to STAY! Stay! How many times—”

“Sure, and pretend your screaming flows like a nursery rhyme.”

You clutch the pole with both hands, pull yourself close and slide down. Egon curses under his breath. Shite. Shite. Of course you wouldn’t listen. Psychology classes pop up in his mind again— the most powerful instincts— the things people do for fear…

“I’m here now. Poof. Too late”, you say. “Whatever happens is on me.”

He stifles a groan. It’s a lost cause. The stairs are at the opposite end of the garage. Escorting you there would take way too long and expose you to a stealthy attack and— well, he doesn’t suppose forcing you to climb the pole is on the table.

“Alright”, he decides. “Grab the pack.”

You manage to put it on yourself. He helps you to switch it on. You huff, smile and turn to him.

“Which trap?”

“Regular.”

“On it!”

You dash towards Ecto- 1. Just as Egon suspected: the enormous tentacle emerges from the shadow and aims.

Egon shoots. The proton stream reaches the ghost this time. The current wraps around its shape. The ectoplasmic limb wrestles and yanks but he holds it in place: it’s your turn to capture it before it rips the shackle.

“Now!”

You slide the contraption right under the ghost. Set the pedal. Step. Open. Wait.

Intense glow fills the room. Egon navigates the tentacle downwards but for some inexplicable reason the trap doesn’t seem to swallow its prey. It tries— sucks some ectoplasmic residue, hoovers up some of its slime— but the monster doesn’t get pulled in, as if it was… attached to something?

A roar echoes through the garage and everything happens at once: the trap closes, proton stream breaks and the ghost dissipates again.

You’re the first to whisper.

“…Is it…?”

“No”, Egon exhales. “It’s around here somewhere.”

“So… The trap didn’t work? Why?”

“Apparently it’s not just a ghost. It must be a complex being with some sort of material form. We may need to overpower it in a more… traditional sense.”

“Chain? Wires? Chandelier? Forget- me rod? A random hydraulic pipe of oblivion?”

Your flowery language is both a blessing and a curse. That translates into a perfect bait. Keep talking.

“So you’re opting for brute force?” Egon asks and that’s all it takes.

“Uh, I thought you were suggesting. I’d try another approach. If that guy is a marine cephalopod he may have a hard time adjusting to open air. Maybe dragging it out of the drainage will do the trick, right? Instead of streaming it, we could—"

Your mouth is still open when the giant tentacle shoots in your general direction. You let out a loud shriek and manage to evade— albeit barely— and even though Egon assumed using you as a lure would be the practical choice, he, for once, can’t stand the sight of it.

The proton rod won’t help any. Hitting you is a real threat— and it’s way more dangerous for you than the ghost. He’s about to resort to brute force but the monster steps out of the shadows and Egon can’t believe his eyes.

It’s human.

Oh, that makes things significantly easier.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a tiny bottle and charges.

A hit from behind may be cheap but it works every time. Egon swings the uncharged proton rod right into the creature’s head. It squeals, unwraps the tentacles protruding from its sleeve, then snarls and shakes its head. Egon has a few seconds to take in the entire picture: three gargantuan ectoplasmic limbs (a developing ghostly sickness?) have taken over the poor guy’s left arm. He seems dazed: his eyes are foggy, droll seeps through his teeth and for a split second Egon wonders if there’s any spiritual cancerous disease he’s failed to discover.

The hybrid lifts its arms and aims at you again, full force. Before you have the chance to scream, Egon slides right in front of you, pushes you aside and splashes some of the bottle’s contents on the monster’s face.

It howls and retracts.

“…What is that?!” You manage.

“An old trick. Handy when possessed individuals fail to be cooperative.”

Egon spots the dirty cloth still hanging on the heater. It should be dry enough. Easy to soak. Perfect.

He dashes for it, grabs it and presses it against the bottle, pouring a decent amount of the liquid on it. Heavy drops of the potent solution spill around. Tiny wet lines trickle down his gloves. He takes a deep breath, holds it and looks at the monster. It snarls. Then charges.

Egon isn’t a great fighter but he dodges just fine. He slides under the tentacles, turns around and hops on the hybrid’s back. It screeches— then stops— wet, throaty sounds stifled by the rug in Egon’s hand. He clutches the monster’s throat, squeezes it with an elbow and turns to you.

“A common tranquilizer. Learnt it during my coroner years”, he grunts, pressing the pad into its face. “You might want to find something to tie him with.”

You’re awfully quiet, staring at him blankly— but you nod. There’s a spare, long chain in Ray’s stash (nobody knows what he uses it for) so you take it and approach the scuffle with apprehension. The hybrid’s movements slow down but it’s still trying to break out of Egon’s unrelenting clutch.

“Thank you”, he says, composed as ever. “You’re doing great.”

It takes a few more seconds. The monster’s muscles eventually give in and it slides down on the floor. Its arms loosen. Eyes close. Its head hits the garage floor.

For a long moment nobody moves.

“Yo”, you whisper. Egon looks at you, then at the limp body beneath him and takes a step back.

“Sedated. Perfect.”

“What now?”

“Let’s tie it up.”

Egon reaches for the chain you’re holding. He wraps the creatures torso (making it extra tight and unnecessarily confusing around the arms— safety first) and you take care of its legs. The constraint turns out pretty solid and, most importantly, impossible to slip through by the tentacles. Once you make sure it’s sealed, each of you grabs a loose end of the chain and proceed to drag the dead weight across the floor.

It’s not exactly Buckingham Palace level of service anyway— not like you owe anybody standards— but when the monster’s back slams against a concrete pillar, you flinch.

“Oh no!— Oh dear, it hurt him—”

“It’s just tried to kill you. You do understand that, right?”

“Sort of”, you groan. “I really wanted it to warm up to us. We’ve sort of killed our chances at cooperation.”

“Don’t worry. It isn’t capable of drawing conclusions in this state.”

Egon pulls the chain and ties the creature around the pillar in an ungallant knot. It’s not his proudest work but a staple of initiative nonetheless. Links are sealed. Hostage is secured. It’s all under control.

He’s still focused on triple- checking the locks when you speak.

“Egon, why did you…?” You rub your hands together. “You… It was dangerous. Reckless. You don’t do reckless, Egon Spengler. Overcomplicated, yes, way too optimized, yes. But this, whatever you were thinking, was almost careless! You… You could’ve—”

He looks upwards. You seem anxious but you’re alive and well. He doesn’t understand.

“I could’ve what?”

“Well, I mean, you stuck your neck out for me. It could’ve been bad”, you gulp. ‘You could’ve been hurt.”

“I wasn’t though, was I?”

Egon’s at a loss. He watches you closely. You’re both okay and that’s all that matters. It’s not the first time he’s done something stupid out of fear— ah, fear, the bypass of rational thought— the Psychology classes again…

You stay silent for a moment, then sigh.

“I’ll call Peter.”

“Yes. No. Wait.” He frowns, takes off his gloves and approaches you. “Check- up first.”

“…This again? Seriously?!” You huff. “It’s, like, the third time this week! If something happened, I’d tell you immediately. I’m fine, Egon! I’m fine, you should be focused on yourself, you’re the one who went berserk for some reason I can’t wrap my head around—"

No bruises, no scratches. He touches your face, looks you in the eyes.

“It’s a precaution. I’ll make it quick. Tell me if anything hurts.”

His fingers skim over your features— cheeks, nose, forehead, temples. Your voice catches. Breath gets shuddered, eyes go frantic and cheeks are still awfully warm but it’s a natural response. Egon’s expected that much. His thumb runs across your lip, even though it looks untouched and there’s no justifiable reason to examine it closely. He just… can’t resist. Nor does he want to, really. There’s still room for excuses which get half- woven in his head but their seams are loose and each sentence falls apart before it leaves his mouth.

Egon knows he lingers too long. Needs to pull back. He doesn’t understand why his body won’t listen.

The tip of his thumb rests at the corner of your lips, then moves on to another gentle caress. Then again. And again, until you sigh. Warm breath tickles his skin. He tries it once more to check if you allow him— and you do— more than that— you melt into the touch, heat radiating from your skin, breathing deep— receptive, indulgent, responsive.

This is… inebriating.

“…You seem okay”, he concludes. “No injuries?”

“No. You?”

“None”, he says, letting his hands hang loose again. “I’ll run a few tests. Call Venkman, tell him we’ve got a subject. He should come immediately.”

“Okay. But tell me what’s going on.”

“…We’ve just caught an anomaly. As I said.”

“Not that. I see you. I notice things”, you say cautiously but he makes sure his face is as blank as ever. “You’re usually so collected. What happened?”

Egon doesn’t think it needs explanation. It’s obvious. Should be, at least. He frowns and says:

“I don’t want my friends to get hurt.”

“…After Ray?”

He nods.

A pair of soft hands brush against his jaw and in a moment— before he’s able to fully process what’s happening— his face dips down, guided by the delicate touch and you gently place your lips near his chin.

It’s a simple gesture. Gentle touch. A shadow of a kiss, lighter than Dana’s, nothing more than a brush of hot skin but— Lord, help him— he shivers— it’s so much more— it’s everything— it’s overwhelming.

“Ray is fine”, you whisper, looking at him again. “You’ll see him tomorrow, remember? It’s almost over.”

“…Again, please.”

“You’ll see him tomorrow...”

“No. Not this, the…”

It takes you a second but you get it and breathe out a laugh. Brush his jaw again, then wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a tight hug.

Oh. Oh.

His arms tentatively reach for your back and once they’re there— recognize the texture of his shirt (outlining your shape in a way he declines to register)— and he lets down his guard a bit. Tightens his grasp. Sinks into the moment. He lets his hands really feel you for the first time since the both of you’ve started accepting proximity and it frightens him beyond belief— it’s soft, welcoming, disarming and pure— so his eyes close, stiff muscles let go— anxiety abates—  he’s out of breath— but all you do is hold him close, no doubt, no shame. You’re as open and affectionate as ever, a salve for his mind, a missing link. You fit right here. He’s never known a feeling like this, not even with his family.

That’s something new: his fear for your life instigates a soothing response. Highly unusual. He’ll have to write it down for future reference.

“Could we include this into the list of things we do? Under… particular circumstances, of course?”

“Sure. Whenever you need it.”

You stay like that for a moment. It’s quiet and dark. Egon relishes every breath tickling the nape of his neck, every slight fidget against his chest, every movement— and when you finally take a step back, his chest feels almost hollow. As if it’s just tasted peace and had to let go.

“You should also add a point in which you listen to me in case of immediate danger”, he says. “In a bold, red, permanent marker, preferably.”

You smile. It’s playful. Cheeky. Beautiful. Whatever anxiety you’d felt a moment ago, evaporated.

“I did cooperate, doofus! You won’t find a more flexible squire than myself.”

“Flexible tends to mean obedient”, he raises an eyebrow. “When I say you fall back, you do.”

“When you require assistance, I help! That’s literally in my agreement. I signed the paper, you have no say in this, Spengler.”

“Spenglers are a team. And, when faced with danger, have to be unanimous.”

“You’re right!” You give him your finger guns and turn to the reception desk. “See? We’ve just agreed and it’s that easy!”

He smirks.

“Call Venkman.”

“Ai, ai, Sir!”

He watches you pick up the phone and dial Peter’s number. A few beeps later your voice fades into a mumble of funny noises.

When he turns towards the hybrid, he notices another curious thing: the tentacles seem to deflate and seep into a bile of ectoplasmic goo.

He must take a sample immediately. Ray is going to love this.

#ghostbusters #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #egon spengler x you #fanfiction #egon spengler imagines #self insert #ghostbusters fanfiction #ao3 #harold ramis #self ship #self indulgent #happy easter

[isopod-lesbian]

In 2015, I played Life is Strange; I was 17 years old, and hadn't quite realized I was a trans woman yet. For me back then, LiS was a fantasy more than anything; not because I wished I had Max's powers, but because I got to play as a young woman falling in love with her best friend. Even before I could articulate why, I felt this deep ache of longing for what could have been. By the end of that year, I had come out to myself and my friends, and I still credit LiS for helping me figure things out that way.

When I first played LiS, I felt like the "Bay" ending was the most appropriate for Max's story. If LiS is a game about growing up, then sacrificing Chloe is a hard but necessary choice to make, and I believed it was the right one. I never questioned the idea that good people will sacrifice their own happiness for the good of society, or for the people they love. So, when I began adulthood, I did so with purpose, but without passion. I did all the things I needed to do to survive and make it out into the world on my own, and I was miserable for most of the time.

When I came back to the LiS fandom in the past couple of years, I got a chance to re-examine my favorite game with a new perspective. I immersed myself in fanfic, I indulged my nostalgia, and I began to reinterpret this work that shaped me years before. I looked at the "Bae" ending especially with fresh eyes; I started seeing it not as a selfish decision, but an unselfish one, a choice made out of love for a girl who was let down by everyone who was supposed to care for her before. How cruel it was to imagine Chloe's story ending with her bleeding out in a bathroom, still thinking that nobody cared for her.

Now, I'm 25. I'm an adult in every sense of the word, and despite everything, it seems like my life is...kind of working out. I'm almost a year into HRT, I have a job that lets me live a reasonably nice life, and I'm planning on moving in with my girlfriend. When I started True Colors, I tried to temper my expectations, and hoped that my nostalgia for the past wouldn't inhibit my enjoyment of a new entry in the series. So, 6 years after the first, I played a Life is Strange game; and, for the second time, it showed me exactly what I needed to see.

If Life is Stange is a game about growing up, True Colors is a game about what happens after. It's a game about starting over, about finding a place to call home and people to call family. Where Max's powers let her find the perfect way to get what she wanted or say the right thing, Alex's powers ask her to understand the people around her. Where LiS holds the threat of the Storm over Max's head, Gabe's death in True Colors is just a tragedy that Alex has to process. LiS' central mystery comes down to an evil man doing evil things; True Colors' is the result of an entrenched capitalist machine that operates not out of malice, but out of sheer self-interest.

When I finished True Colors, I was confronted with a choice that felt like the polar opposite of LiS' ending. After all the excitement and emotion, the question posed to Alex first felt almost incidental. Nobody's life hung in the balance, neither choice carried any real emotional consequences, and there was no way of knowing what the ultimate results might be. But as I considered Gabe's vision for Alex, I was struck by how real it felt. How it felt like the choices I was already making in life, and the choices I know are yet to come in my future. I think 17-year-old me would have jumped at the idea of a life of adventure, traveling the country with the girl I love. But now, I can't help but think of how many chances we really get to find a home. I doubt it's a high number. So I chose to stay. And I can only hope that, whenever I'm given that choice in my life, I am brave enough to take a chance on whatever place I've found for myself.

#Life is Strange #True Colors #Shoutout to The Wrecking Collective #also yes this is my yearly text post #also nobody will be surprised that i romanced steph so i didn't even mention it LOL

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Story of Our Life

A Harry Styles Imagine

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is something a little different that was inspired by a dream I had where I was singing Story of My Life with 1D in a car... Also, I made some cover art on procreate plz don't judge my mediocre art skills lmao. Hope you like it!!!!!

Masterlist

Excerpts from

STORY OF OUR LIFE

by 

Y/N Styles

To Louis, the best chauffeur I’ve ever had.

To Liam, who keeps us all sane. Steady on, mate.

To Zayn, who always offers a shoulder to cry on (and a cigarette).

To Niall, the king of late-night chats (and snacks).

To Harry, for everything, forever.

Introduction by Harry Styles

Before she was my wife, Y/N Styles was Y/N Y/L/N. We met in 2011, six months before we would be setting out on the Up All Night tour. Even though I had been on TV, in recording studios, and performed live on the X Factor Live Tour 2011, I was still just a shy kid from Holmes Chapel who couldn’t quite believe his luck. I think I spent that whole year in a state of disbelief, afraid that at any moment, someone would tell me that it was all a joke and I wasn’t very good at singing, actually. Every time I took a shower, I half-expected Ashton Kutcher to jump out at me from behind the shower curtain. Y/N, on the other hand, walked into the conference room at Columbia Records, sat down at the head of the table, folded her arms across her chest, and asked us each, individually, if we had read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and, if so, how did we feel about it? Immediately, I knew that this girl was going to be someone special.

Her dad, Greg Y/L/N, was going to be our tour manager. When it was time for the label to put a team together, he was at the top of the list: a goofy dad with a daughter around our age who had toured with some of the biggest musicians of the 90s. He was the perfect choice for a bunch of kids who didn’t really know what they were doing: industry experience to make sure the day-to-day operations went smoothly, and the paternal instinct to protect us as best he could (we called him Papa Bear, which he pretended to hate, but we all knew he secretly loved it). 

We grew up together, spent months on end traveling the world, learning algebra on private planes and sneaking out of hotel rooms to wander foreign cities in the middle of the night. Fast forward to today. While Y/N was pregnant with Willa, our second child, she spent the whole third trimester on bed rest. Eventually, she got so bored that she scrolled all the way back on iCloud. Our older daughter, Hazel, was fascinated by the pictures of me and the band, and Y/N spent hours recounting our days on tour. I told her that she should write a book, but she refused at first. We have enough money, she said. People will think I’m making a cash grab. I told her that was bollocks, but if she really felt that way, she could donate all the profits to charity. It’s perfect, really, I said. The 20-year anniversary of One Direction is coming up, and it would be cool to give the fans a peek behind the scenes. Really, there’s no one better than you, darling, because you know the real us. She agreed, but only if all five of us were okay with it, and if all of the proceeds could go to The Trevor Project. So really, it’s actually me you should be thanking for convincing her to do this in the first place.

Anyways, here it is. The Story of Our Life: Growing Up With the World’s Biggest Boy Band, written by my amazing wife, Y/N Styles. 

Chapter 5

Out of all the One Direction boys, Louis was the first one to get his driver's license in America. He spent the few months leading up to the Where We Are tour with his girlfriend in California, and wanted to buy a fancy car to drive her around in. Hence, the license. So, when the tour made its way to North America, he somehow managed to convince my dad and the security team to let him drive us from the hotel to the venue a few times. Of course, the windows were tinted (and we were not allowed to open them), we were surrounded by a security detail, and there was always a bodyguard in the backseat, but it didn’t matter. 

On the night of the second show in Detroit, we all piled into a tricked-out Toyota Sienna, the best minivan on the market in 2011. Louis and Liam sat up front, I was squished between Harry and Niall in the middle, and Zayn and the bodyguard sat in the way back. We had the radio blasting and were singing along to some absolute bangers, like Party Rock Anthem and Super Bass, when the first few notes of Story of My Life started playing. Louis groaned and reached over to change the station, but I leaned forwards and slapped his hand out of the way before he could, turning the volume up a few notches. 

“Written in these walls are the stories that I can’t explain,” I sang along with Harry’s voice, turning to look at him with a mischievous smirk. He was mouthing along but bit his lip as soon as I caught him. Liam piped up with his part and I shook my head, laughing. 

“Do you guys seriously only ever sing your parts?” I asked. Next to me, I felt Niall shrug. 

“Feels wrong to sing someone else’s, even off stage,” he said, before chiming in on the background vocals as Zayn jumped in on his part. 

“Well, you should do it anyway, just for fun.” Liam turns around and lifts his eyebrows in a silent challenge. Harry and Niall jumped in, and soon we were all belting out the words to every part.

When the final chorus came up, I turned to rest my head on Harry’s shoulder, singing his part back to him. He was usually the shameless one, but his cheeks were tinted pink and he stopped singing for a few seconds. His green eyes were wide, but they never once left my own. I felt his chest rise and fall in a deep, steadying breath before he began singing again. 

From that moment on, Story of My Life was our song. Every time they performed it, he turned towards the side of the stage during the last chorus, where I sang along. On the rare occasions that I sat in the audience, his eyes always managed to find mine. We sang lines to each other all the time. Our favorite thing to do, much to everyone else’s dismay, was yell Zayn’s pre-chorus to each other from across a room. 

“And I’ll be gone, gone, tonight,” one of us would start. 

“The ground beneath my feet is open wide,” the other would respond. 

“The way that I’ve been holding on too tight,” the first person would say, before we both shouted, “With nothing in betweeeeeeeen!” That line was always the loudest, and we always dragged out the last syllable until we couldn’t breathe anymore. 

Chapter 9

When Harry’s solo album dropped, I was in class, taking my Algebra 101 final. My test-taking nerves were multiplied tenfold by the fact that I knew people were listening to it right now, and I wasn’t. We had kept in touch after One Direction broke up, mostly over text but occasionally, when he was in LA, he came to my house to have dinner with me and my Grandma (and Dad, if he was home).

I listened to it all the way through on the drive back home to Pasadena after I finished my exam, and as soon as I pulled into the driveway, I texted him. 

I signed up for a presale code, and refreshed my laptop continuously for five straight minutes in order to get tickets for his LA show. Harry was furious with me. When I texted him that I was officially coming to the show, he called me in the middle of a meeting with his tour team to yell at me. Something along the lines of, “I put you on the VIP list, you dumbass! And invites to the afterparty were just sent out yesterday!”

To be fair, I just wanted to support my friend, and to this day I still feel uncomfortable asking for free tickets from anyone when I have the means to pay for them. I think it’s all the guilt from five years of attending One Direction concerts for free. But anyways, that next fall, I found myself backstage at the Greek Theater with a VIP badge around my neck, feeling intense deja vu as security led me to Harry’s dressing room. 

“Y/N!” He yelled as soon as the door opened. I had no time to react; I was nearly knocked over by the force of his hug. His mom and sister were there, too, and I was passed around for more hugs before settling next to Harry on the couch. 

“So, how’s it going? How’s school?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. That’s one of the things I love most about Harry; no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen someone, he always picks back up like no time has passed. He is scary good at keeping up with what everyone else is doing, even when his own life 

“Kicking my ass already and it’s only been three weeks,” I said with a chuckle. “But better than last year, that’s for sure!” Harry’s brows furrowed and he waited expectantly. “Did I not tell you that my original roommate was psycho?”

“No, I don’t think that’s come up before.” I pulled up a photo on my phone and handed it over to him without a word, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen his eyes wider than they were in that moment. 

“Holy shit,” she said.

“I wanna see!” Gemma whined, leaning across the coffee table to snatch the phone from him. “Oh my god, Mum, look!” She handed the phone to Anne, who frowned down at it. 

“This was your dorm?”

“For all of three days, yes,” you answered. “I’m not sure what creeped me out more, the life-sized cardboard cutout of Harry watching my every move, or the fact that she threatened to blackmail me if I didn’t introduce her to you.” Harry was doubled over with laughter with tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. 

“What are the chances of you, of all people, rooming with a crazy One Direction fan in college?” he asked, struggling to breathe enough to support his vocal chords. 

“The school investigated and they found an invoice for a private investigator on her computer in a folder with a bunch of my personal information and photos of me that looked like they were taken from behind bushes and trash cans. Apparently, she gave him that paparazzi photo from the week we were in London during On the Road Again and he was able to track me down.”

“He was able to figure out your identity from that photo?” I nodded, and Harry looked impressed, yet mildly disturbed. “She must’ve paid a fortune.” The photo in question features all five members of One Direction on their way into the O2 arena, and in the background, you can see the blurry back of my head as I slipped into the back door ahead of them.

When it was time for Harry to get ready, a security guard led Anne, Gemma, and I to the VIP section and we settled in for the show. He killed it on stage, and it was great to see him back in his element, joking with the fans between songs and waving to everyone he made eye contact with. He performed What Makes You Beautiful and the cheers were so loud, even in the small-theater setting, that I knew I would probably have trouble hearing tomorrow. 

“Alright, now normally I’d go straight into Kiwi, but there’s someone special in the audience today and this next song means a lot to the both of us, and she was the one who told me to sing all of the parts even though it feels weird, I hope you’ll forgive me for making you wait a few more minutes,” he said with a smirk, knowing that no one was going to complain about an extra song. My smile widened and Anne wrapped an arm around me, squeezing my shoulder, to acknowledge how special this moment was about to be. Just like old times, Harry looked straight at me as the intro music started to play. 

“Written in these walls are the stories that I can’t explain,” he began, and immediately tears started welling up behind my eyes. I joined in, leaning my head on Anne’s shoulder for support. When he got to the second pre-chorus, he yelled out “And I’ll be gone, gone, tonight!” and held out his mic for the audience to sing the next line, but I caught an almost-imperceptible wink as he smiled up at me and I knew that he could care less if anyone else chimed in.

“The fire beneath my feet is burning bright,” Anne, Gemma, and I screamed, hoping that we were loud enough for him to pick our voices out of the crowd. 

He sang the next line, and so did the audience, but I kept my mouth shut and joined in on the last line. He dragged out “between” so long that he had to jump back in on “I take her home.” I was the only one still singing along with him at that point, and the audience let out confused laughter, looking back and forth trying to figure out why he wasn’t moving on yet. 

Chapter 11

We’ve never talked about how we got together, and once the gossip magazines found out that I was the daughter of One Direction’s former tour manager, they just filled in the blanks themselves. I try not to read those things, but I do remember seeing a few headlines like “CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS RECONNECTED!” over that grainy paparazzi photo of us in Holmes Chapel before the Manchester Love on Tour stops. Others spun the fact that I was doing PR on the tour into a fake “HARRY STYLES KISSES EMPLOYEE” scandal, and it just spiraled out of control from there. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

When the pandemic hit, I was at home in Pasadena with my dad and grandma. We had no other “bubble” because my grandma was immunocompromised. Needless to say, I got very bored very quickly. It got to the point that I would cycle through the contacts on my phone, Facetiming everyone in alphabetical order by last name until someone picked up. Harry was one of the only people who answered every single time. We ended up calling each other almost every day, sometimes to chat, or just to have someone there, in the background, while we went about our days. He was with his band, working on what would eventually become Harry’s House, and I spent many days listening to them work through different lyric and melody combinations while curled up in my childhood bedroom with my work laptop. He even interrupted a Zoom meeting I was in, once, excited to play part of “Music for a Sushi Restaurant” for me.

I was working remotely for a PR firm, after graduating college in 2020, my options were limited and, in the end, the place only gave me an offer because they worked with Columbia Records and knew my dad. I mostly wrote copy about movies to be put on Wikipedia or IMDB, which was super boring, so Harry seriously saved my life by letting me listen in on his studio sessions, or to the audio of whatever show he was watching and his commentary. 

By the time he was able to start prepping for Love on Tour, I was working at the firm’s office building on Sunset,  just about ready to quit my job and sell foot pics online. 

“Come on tour with me,” he said, (seemingly) impulsively, during one of our Facetime sessions in which he patiently listened to me complain about how Mark from accounting wouldn’t stop coming over to my desk to “chat” every hour on the hour. 

“What?” I answered, laughing a little. 

“Seriously, Y/N, it’ll be just like old times! We can race on the dolleys they use to bring the speakers in, and I’ll even let you win this time.” I rolled my eyes.

“It’s not really winning, then, is it?”

“Okay, fine, I won’t let you win. But I am serious, Y/N. You should join me on tour.”

“What am I supposed to do, just follow you around the world like some sad, desperate groupie?”

“I mean, you are a bit sad and desperate.” I flipped him off, to which he responded by cackling with laughter. 

“I’m sad because my job sucks, and desperate to get away from Mark, not to get into your pants.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be my mistress, you’d be doing PR for the tour, obviously.” Harry’s cheeks flushed with the slightest hint of pink, 

“Well, maybe you should have led with that!” I started laughing, too, and it took a while for either of us to be able to speak again. 

“Okay, sorry, I’ll start over.” He took a deep breath to calm his giggles, but still couldn’t manage to keep a straight face. “Y/N Y/L/N, I would like to formally request that you join me as my PR Manager for Love on Tour. My publicist is about to give birth, like, any day now so she obviously can’t go gallivanting around the world. Really, you’d be doing me a favor, and who better than someone who already has my dressing room requests memorized since half of them are actually yours.” 

“You still have the same dressing room requests?” I gave him a skeptical look. 

“Old habits die hard.” He shrugged. “And even though I don’t drink Diet Coke, having it in the fridge makes it feel like you’re there with me.” The pink was now red and I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling too wide. 

“Alright, Mr. Styles, you have a deal.”

Like he said, old habits die hard, so even though we were now adults and my dad wasn’t on tour with us, we still fell into our old routines. Back in the day, I was never allowed to be alone in a room with one of the boys, but we had our ways around it. Usually by walking through the hallways of the floor of the hotel everyone was staying on, checking in with the guards stationed at either side on every loop. So while we could have hung out in our rooms, more often than not, we walked through the hotel hallways in circles just like we used to. 

The night before the Pittsburgh show, Harry showed up at my door at 10pm with a bag of sour gummy worms. 

“It’s not Haribo, but it’s close enough,” he said with a shrug, flashing me his trademark “Harry Styles” grin. And just like that, we were off to wear a hole in the carpet, or so I thought. We hadn’t even made it through one full loop before he pulled me through a random door marked “Employees Only” and dragged me up three flights of stairs. 

“Are you taking me somewhere private so you can murder me?” I asked as we trudged through the dirty stairwell. 

“Something like that,” he answered. But when we reached the top, he opened another door and we were on the roof. 

The view was gorgeous, the moon was bright and cast a cool glow on the Pittsburgh skyline. I turned to Harry with wide eyes.

“Scoped it out earlier,” he said with a sheepish smile on his lips. “Just thought we could use a change of scenery.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, reaching out to squeeze his hand in thanks. “As much as I love hotel hallways, this is better.”

We sat on the edge of the roof, dangling our legs over the top of the building next door, and passed the bag of gummy worms back and forth as we talked. We were out there for so long that my eyelids started to get heavy and our conversation slowed down. I leaned my head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around me, huddling closer for warmth (or so I thought). 

“Wanna listen to some music?” He asked. I nodded and he pulled his Airpods out, sticking one in my ear and the other in his own. 

Story of My Life started playing and my heart rate sped up, pulsing adrenaline through my body. Suddenly, I was wide awake and hyper aware of every place our bodies were touching (thighs, hips, my shoulder to his chest, his shoulder to my head, his arm on my bicep). 

I lifted my head up and turned to look at him.

“Do you ever get sick of this song?” I asked. My voice was quiet because I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know the answer. 

“No,” he replied. His voice was low and raspy and it made my stomach flutter. I felt myself leaning in, unconsciously, as he continued. “It reminds me of you, and I could never get sick of you.” 

He brought his free hand up to my face and rubbed his thumb in soft circles on my cheekbone, and his eyes flickered down to my lips. The distance between us closed as if we were replaying something that had already happened in slow motion. Eventually, I could just barely feel the soft brush of his lips against mine. My mouth fell open just a bit in anticipation of what was to come, but Harry paused. 

“It’s you, Y/N,” he whispered.”It’s always been you.”

Feel free to cross my name out and write in your own, I won’t be mad. I get it; what really happened was better than any self-insert fanfiction.

Chapter 17

I’m going to keep most of the details of our wedding private, but I will tell you about our first dance, because it ties into a lot of the other stories that I’ve written about. If you haven’t noticed by now, Story of My Life is sort of the underlying theme of this book, and that’s because it’s been the underlying theme of my life, the soundtrack to my relationship with Harry. 

After dinner, and some absolutely mental toasts, Harry and I were eager to get the party started. Even though he’s not the best dancer, I have never met anyone who dances with as much joy as Harry does, and I love getting pulled into his wild, spontaneous routines. But our first dance was different. The fairy lights surrounding the garden were twinkling in the moonlight, and Niall, Liam, Louis, and Zayn stood on the sidelines to sing, you guessed it, Story of My Life. We swayed in circles, gently, without trying to put on a show or impress anyone else. It was a beautiful, full circle moment, and the boys even dragged out “between” just a little bit to tease us. 

Life is funny. One minute, you’re sixteen and screaming “The fire beneath my feet is burning bright,” at your best friend and you think that this is it, you will be touring the world with your friends forever, and the next you’re twenty-seven and in a wedding dress, leaving mascara stains on the shoulder of his suit. But I wouldn’t change a thing, because I think it was written in the walls all along. 

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagines #imagine #imagines #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction imagines #one direction oneshot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #imaginesandbandfiction #oneshot #documentary #tell all

[sinkingteethinwhitenoise]

Limoncello - Chapter 11

Pairings: Nick Folio x OFC, Bad Omens x OFC

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Blood, Mention of a gun, Use of a gun, MDNI

Word Count: 1.5k

Series Masterlist

“Will you release me, my friend? There’s nowhere to run or hide.” ~ I See Stars, We’re Not In Kansas Anymore

When Nick heard the ping of a notification from his phone, he expected to see a text from Maeve saying that she was on her way. What he actually saw was quite the opposite.

‘I need help. Call 911.’

“Fuck,” he whispered. He shot up from the couch and ran to the kitchen. He looked out the window that had a perfect view of the front of Maeve’s house. A chill ran down his spine and his stomach dropped with dread when he saw one of her windows smashed in. “FUCK!” He rushed back into the living room, where Jolly was seated on the couch, staring at him, worried. Nick glanced at him as he rushed past, bolting to his room. He reached under his bed to pull out a small safe.

Trembling fingers punched in the code and grabbed the contents once it clicked open. A pistol. He double checked that it was loaded before stuffing it into his waistband and rushing back out towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” Jolly called out from his spot on the couch.

“Someone broke into Maeve’s house,” Nick muttered, voice shaking as he placed his hand on the doorknob and swung the door open. “Call the cops. I’ll be back.”

Before Jolly could protest Nick’s decision to insert himself into a dangerous situation, the door slammed shut. Jolly had no choice but to pick up the phone and dial the number.

Maeve was in the process of whispering her address to the operator for the 3rd time. She was getting frustrated with the operator saying that they couldn’t hear her. She was trying so hard to stay hidden. Heavy footsteps stopped outside of her bedroom and she heard the aggressive shaking of the doorknob. Her eyes widened as she set the phone down next to her, not hanging up. She clasped her hand over her mouth as tears spilled down her face, trying her hardest to keep her breathing even.

When the locked door wouldn’t open, she heard a growl. “Oh you’re in for it now,” Tanner chuckled darkly from the other side. The next thing she heard was the deafening crack of her door being kicked down. It took a couple of kicks before he was able to get inside. She squeezed her eyes shut and curled into herself in an attempt to hide further from him. His heavy footsteps stopped right in front of her closet door before it was ripped open. “You really thought you could hide from me,” he growled. “Stupid fucking whore.”

He grabbed her by her ponytail and dragged her out of the closet. Maeve’s screams ripped through her throat like razor blades as her hands shot up to where his hand gripped her hair. She held onto it to try to alleviate the agonizing pressure on her scalp, to no avail. Her nails dug into his hand and scratched him as he threw her to the ground, her head bouncing off of the floor with a sickening thud. A loud, choked sob left her as she attempted to scramble away from him, only for him to pin her to the floor by sitting on top of her.

She struggled beneath him, squirming and bucking around frantically to get out of his hold. His hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed. Her eyes went wide as she tried to suck in a breath. Her hands shot up to try to pry his hand away. “You fucking left me,” he spat, his face disgustingly close to her own. His breath smelled of alcohol and something rotten. She nearly gagged at the smell and the feeling of his slimy saliva hitting her face. “Now you’re getting what was always coming to you, bitch.” He tightened his grip around her throat.

“P-Please,” she choked out. “Don’t do this, w-we can t-alk about this. Let me g-” Her face started to turn purple. Her vision became clouded with dark spots as Tanner’s sinister smirk and enraged eyes got blurrier and blurrier with each passing second. She was lightheaded and she felt like her eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. All she could hear was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Tanner was too caught up in the pleasure of watching the life drain from Maeve’s eyes to hear the footsteps approaching the bedroom.

Nick approached the doorway with pure rage coursing through his veins. He sprung into action so quickly that he barely registered that he was moving. He came up behind Tanner as he pulled the gun from his waistband. Even though Nick was enraged, he really didn’t want to have to kill anyone. So, with the safety still on, he came up behind Tanner and smashed the side of the pistol into the back of his head.

Blood began to gush from the back of his head as a pained scream tore through him. He instinctively let go of Maeve’s neck to cradle his wound, falling off of her body and curling into himself on the floor. Maeve began to cough and gasp for air.

Nick shoved the weapon back into his waistband, not caring that there was blood on it. He rushed to Maeve’s side and without a word hoisted her up into his arms. He carried her outside, leaving Tanner bloodied on her bedroom floor.

Maeve coughed and hacked as she held onto Nick for dear life, fat tears streaming down her face. They heard police sirens as Nick carried her outside. He set her down in the driveway to remove his gun and place it on the ground next to her car before the police arrived. Then, he picked her back up and carried her to the sidewalk. Maeve’s coughing quickly turned into sobbing and gasping as she held onto Nick.

Nick’s breathing began to shake and his throat began to tighten as tears of his own sprung to his eyes. He gently caressed the back of her head. “I’m here, baby. I’m here,” he whispered, voice pinched as he held back tears. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Nosy neighbors had filled the sidewalk surrounding Maeve’s house. They heard the sirens and saw the lights and couldn’t help themselves. Of course, Noah, Nicholas, and Jolly were also outside watching, relieved upon seeing that their bandmate was unharmed and that Maeve was alive. The crowd began to thin as the police began wrapping up and the ambulance left.

The police had asked both Maeve and Nick numerous questions to get the whole story. Maeve could barely speak without stuttering and tripping over her words. She tried her best to give a coherent recollection of events and did surprisingly well for what she had just been through. Nick was able to get his gun back after the situation was sorted out. Tanner was under arrest, but was being taken to the hospital for stitches before going to jail.

Once cleared to go, Nick wrapped an arm around Maeve’s waist and led her across the street to his home. The guys were waiting in the driveway. They all walked inside together.

Inside, Maeve didn’t allow any of them to fuss over her. “Can I take a shower here?” she asked them, voice meek. She didn’t care that she’d just taken one. She felt disgusting and wanted to wash any remnants of Tanner away.

“Of course,” Nick answered softly. “C’mon.” He led her to the bathroom, grabbed her a towel and showed her where everything was. “You want some clothes?” he asked, rubbing his hands up and down her arms while looking at her, his brow furrowed with worry. She nodded in response. “Wait here,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. He rushed off to his room and grabbed one of his old Harley Davidson shirts, boxers, and basketball shorts. He came back and set the clothes next to the sink. “Do you need anything else?” he asked, sincerity in his tone.

She nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Can you join me? I don’t wanna be alone.” It was clear by the look on her face and the tone of her voice that her intentions were pure.

“Of course, doll.” He whispered back in response.

As they stood under the stream of hot water, Nick washed Maeve’s hair. His fingers rubbed against her scalp in the most soothing way. Maeve’s eyes were closed as she allowed herself to get lost in his gentle touch.

“I’m sorry,” Nick whispered, just loud enough to be heard above the water hitting the tub.

“What for?” Maeve murmured, her eyes fluttering open.

He sighed. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should’ve come inside with you.”

She turned to face him, his fingers leaving her head as she did. “Don’t do that,” she sighed, her hands cupping his face. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

All Nick did was shrug in response.

“You saved my life anyway,” she told him, eyes welling up with tears again. “You had no idea what you were walking into and you still risked that to come save me.”

“Of course I did,” he murmured. “Why would I do anything else?”

“There’s not many people out there that would’ve done that,” she said softly, stroking his cheek with her thumb. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio fanfic #bad omens fan fiction #nick folio fan fiction #cw: violence #cw: angst #sinkingteethinwhitenoise #limoncello series

[yangsharperavery]

my non carmy/sydney thoughts on season 2

it's very different than the first which is interesting bc the structure they had in the kitchen last season worked so seamlessly.

i think this season was lacking that frequency and flare. i think because of that it suffered a bit. i think the viewership did too for that reason.

it was nearly impossible to recreate the magic of the first season without the constant buzz and intensity and immediacy of food service.

i do think that they still could have retained some of that energy by incorporating more demo/planning/training via the familiar staccato, regimented and frenetic pacing of the scenes WHILE also showing the more slowed down exploration of each character being pulled away to get the skills needed to advance the team and its mission.

but it's like they slowed the story telling all the way down immediately.

even opening with marcus and his ailing mother felt like such a specific and poignant choice in that vein.

almost like the theme of the season was going to be all types of grief, preemptive and reactive.

i think they dropped the ball having everyone so spread out over the course of the ENTIRE season and not making the ones that were together exist in the heightened energy we're used to from this show.

here are some things i loved about it:

•  richie's growth. i love an asshole character that is held to account, actually takes correction and impact and works to evolve and improve.

• marcus in copenhagen. he's so sweet and demure. i loved him getting the one on one attention. him exploring the city and staying on the boat. i was worried he'd be forgotten about in the story so its nice to see that someone bts fought for that not to happen.

• sydney's chicago food tour. the cinematography was STUNNING during these sequences. i read someone say that those moments felt like such a deliberate love letter to the culinary industry and i wholeheartedly agree like it made me SO happy to see.

•  the christmas bottle episode. listen. LISTEN. if you have ever lived in or been subjected to a nuclear family/household that operated like that, i know you watched that entire episode with a pit in your stomach. it was devastating and poetic and maddening and SO deeply fucking impactful. it painted the perfect picture of exactly why michael, natalie and carmy are the way they are. i SOBBED. and i lightweight think that's the episode that's giving this season such critical acclaim and the 100% on rotten tomatoes. it was SO strong and sooooo deeply harrowing.

• natalie's presence. i love her. just her being around was so comforting to to me. i enjoyed how sweet she was to fak.

• tina singing. they still underused her but i loved seeing her shine outside of her element and having the full support of her classmates. i love confidence baring moments for characters who've struggled, felt second or been ignored. that moment and sydney asking her to be sous were so special!

• the “bears are aggressive but sensitive, compassionate, deeply empathic” line. i've thought about it several times since finishing the season. because wow. also richie's dialogue about purpose. olivia coleman's character's conversation with richie about rebirth and timing. there are so many gorgeous lines that speak to the ingrained grief, brevity, import, ability and power of this human experience and all its many facets. the writer's really do SUCH a wondrous job highlighting the humanity of it's characters and their struggles, obstacles and heartache.

• the fucking chocolate banana. i absolutely CRIED. they need to stop playing around and calling this show a comedy because c'mon. that was such a good callback for cisero and richie.

•  pete crying. when i tell you that shit was so deeply powerful. to see him hurting so acutely for natalie. knowing how much he loves her and how much her mother's conditions impacted her entire life. so much so that she hadn't even known nat was pregnant. like that scene GUTTED me. the actor only had .3 scenes this season but that one was an absolute stand out.

• ayo's performance. this girl is an ACTOR. like i know she's a writer and a comedian but she is SO exquisite in the role of sydney. i'm endlessly enamored.

what i didn't like:

• them completely dropping the ball on ebra's storyline. so he disappears for WEEKS from fear and then returns and has a 3 second convo with tina? and then is all of a sudden back in an apron in the kitchen. please don't piss me off. wasteful.

• lack of gary screentime. he should have had as much screentime as fak minus the christmas episode. sidelining two of the black men was foolish and wholly unnecessary.

• the AMOUNT of claire/carmy scenes. like i totally get it. i get why it had to happen, i get the point they were trying to make and the consequences they were driving home but the sheer enormity of the claire/carmy scenes and how LONG they were was dumb. we could have been shown carmy was distracted/absent without having to see those two together for these elongated ass scenes. and them kissing in front of the fireworks? like GAG me. PLEASE BE SERIOUS RN.

• i need to see my babies breaking bread and having found family dinner at least once per season, if not more. thx.

this is just part 1, part 2 will be carmy/sydney focused.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear spoilers #analysis #get the emmys ready!

[gentleman-velvet]

The ending of Marble Hornets is on my mind

It's a very interesting ending and one that I enjoyed very much.

I couldn't really describe the ending at first, it felt empty but full at the same time, like the task had been completed and the characters won but the losses weren't worth the victory.

Then someone described the ending as "bittersweet" and I think is the literal perfect way to describe it.

It's sweet in the way that "Yay, Alex is defeated and there is no one trying to kill us right now"

But bitter in the way of "But only me and Jessica survived this entire thing and both of us are infected with the operator"

It's like the in-between of a happy and sad ending.

I also think the road diverging into two different roads (symbolizing Tim having a choice now) can be interpreted as ( or at least to me) that Tim can either get better or become like Alex and descend into madness.

The final line of "everything is fine" can also be seen in two different ways, one way of 'everything is fine but I'm also one second away from snapping' or ' everything is fine, I'm okay, things have horrible but I can get through this'.

And I just love how it doesn't try to make everything happy and joyful, it recognizes the horrible things that happened to the characters, and does recognize that these characters will have to deal with the operator for the rest of their lives but it doesn't feel hopeless.

It feels like there is hope, hope that these characters can get better.

Hope that they can leave all of this behind

I just love it so much

#marble hornets #alex kraile #marble hornets ending #marble hornets alex #marble hornets tim

[metaltangodiva]

Sort of a follow-up to my last post, but I really feel Krauser and Leon could have gone on many more missions together. Felt like Krauser was the perfect companion to Leon (though very valid arguments could be made for Chris, too — I'm just more of a Metaltango fan).

It's their sense of humor, in part. The same kinda snark, the deadpan delivery, the puns. The fact neither of them take any of this personally. Leon equipped to deal with civilians, Krauser more strategically-minded.

But also, they're both traumatized.

We know what Leon went through in Raccoon City, that he's not part of the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit Team by choice. The guy's never asked for this; it was joining them or die. We know how jaded he gets as the series goes; it's not a light job. It's seeing people die, it's losing friends, loved ones, coworkers, teammates. We may not know what happened between RE2 and OG Operation Javier, but I can't help to think it was a lot like what his pre-RE4R days, meaning he got trained, and he got trained the hard way.

Krauser, sure, he's a soldier. He willingly joined the army, he volunteered for Operation Javier, though he says he did get a better check for it (and not good enough still!). But soldiers go through so much shit, and a guy in a Special Forces, specialized in black ops who believes army life is the only life he knows and feels comfortable in, to the point his downtime is merc work... there's no ifs, ands or buts about it: he's seen shit. He's seen wars. He knows what a battlefield smells like.

So having two guys who're tossed into the same mission, who've gone through similar bullshit and are still fighting? I'd like to think they would have found comfort in each other. That Leon wouldn't be alone in dealing with Umbrella anyone, and that Krauser (with his arm having healed, of course) would have had a lot of work on his plate, so he'd still be keeping a very active lifestyle. If Death Island Leon is less depressed because he's surrounded by people, I can only imagine what it'd be to have someone there for him nearly all the time. I think he'd love having someone he can talk about all the nitty-gritty and be understood, not dismissed. Likewise for Krauser; having someone who he can count on that, can back him up, not just on the battlefield but in everyday life.

Really would have loved to see more of them as a team; after all, the couple who slays together, stays together.

#jack krauser #leon kennedy #metaltango #kreon #resident evil #i love them your honor #I need more of them

[heart4reigns]

OPERATION: TOGETHER, roman reigns and cody rhodes (iv).

← previous chapter | next chapter →

warnings: curse words, alcohol mentioned [the characterization you read in this fic doesn't represent them in real life (please separate fact and fiction)]

tags: (y/n) and cody finally getting along, do i smell jealous? yes i do!! twins in action once again, roman and (y/n) doesn’t argue in this one

THE sound of your alarm woke you up. the first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was your clothes. you were still in yesterday's clothes. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as memories flashed inside your mind. you remembered the events from last night. drinking with cody, opening up, finally accepting his friendship, throwing a tantrum at roman, and then crying your eyes out... it was indeed a wild night for you. you cringed at the memories, trying your best to push them away.

to say the least, hangover wasn't really a problem to you as you were used to drinking back when you were younger. now all you had to do was face the day, acknowledging all your doings from yesterday. it was 7 in the morning and you had to go to the arena to check on the production for today's show.

as you exited the room (with your fresh set of clothes), you felt someone tap your shoulders. you turned around and saw the same face you saw yesterday. "hi." cody smiled. you didn't know to respond as you once again remembered last night's fiasco. "how's your head? i have some tylenols if you want." you shook your head. "i'm good." was all that came out of your mouth. "if you say so." there was silence between the two of you.

"and why are you awake? your show starts later." you asked him. "i was gonna drop my costume and probably get some breakfast, i heard there was some good breakfast tacos near the arena... cheat day for me." he couldn't stop rambling. "what about you?" cody returned the question. "going to the arena to check the stage." cody's eyes lit up. "then let's go!"

once again, there you were–in his car, listening to him singing along to a country song that you have never heard before. "we can check out the taco spot together after this if you want to come... i'm not forcing you to go with me though. it's all your choice." you furrowed your eyebrows as he kept on rambling. "okay, fine. just because it's actually a good place. i've had it before."

the two of you arrived at the arena. you parted ways with him since he was going to deal with costumes and you were going to check with the logistics. "i'll text you later." you said to him, earning a nod. "let me know if you're done! see you!" you walked away from him, scanning the arena. the ring was already finished, you slid inside checking several spots.

"haven't seen you in awhile." you looked up and saw your boss, paul. "oh, i've been busy." you admitted. "yeah, i heard from the twins that you were pushing everyone to their limits." paul said. "it's gonna be one of their biggest feuds in years, of course i want it to be perfect." you pulled on the ropes, checking if they were strong enough to hold the wrestlers physique. “i’ll be here to help you tonight, don’t worry son.”

the two of you talked about the progress until a certain bleached-blond wrestler waved at you. you face-palmed as you saw him walking up to you. “are you done?” he asked. “yeah, i was just about to call you.” paul looked amused. “oh, making friends now?” he chuckled. “shut up, i can’t just have my boss as my friend.” you rolled your eyes. “anyways, see you tonight. i’m bouncing.” cody followed you to the parking lot, bidding goodbyes to his boss.

you paid for the food, insisting it as an emotional compensation for last night’s fiasco. cody devoured his breakfast like there was no tomorrow, not acknowledging that you were still sort of embarrassed by your outburst last night. “if you wanna apologize for last night,” he chewed his food. “you don’t have to, it was fun actually.” you still didn’t get him, but you were getting used to his presence.

“fine.” you muttered, taking a bite of your food. “but that doesn’t mean i’ll go out drinking with you again, rhodes.” he only grinned as a response. the two of you ate in silence. cody was about to say something before he stopped himself. “shoot the question before i throw this taco at you.” you glared at him. “never mind.” the wrestler shrugged his shoulders. “say it.” you threatened him with your fork.

“i don’t know… it’s quite personal.” he hesitated again. you knew he was going to ask about roman. “yes cody, i despise roman that much.” you stated. “to be fair, you have every reason to hate him.” that caught you off guard. “your feelings are valid, i just don’t know exactly what happened to you guys. but, hey! i’m all ears if you wanna talk about it.”

his sentence felt genuine. no matter how many times you tried to deny it, cody was a good person. he was actually trying to be your friend without taking you for granted (as far as you know). you sighed as you put down your food. “what happened between me and roman was in the past. you heard all those rumors and so, about how i cheated, about how we ‘mutually’ broke up, about all those shit… it wasn’t like that.” you confessed.

“he took me for granted. end of story.” even cody knew that the break up wasn’t your fault at all. it became a locker room gossip at first, but people never actually found out what happened between roman and you. “oh…” was all that came out from his mouth. “if you wanna dig up my past, then fine. but this is coming from me, the real source–roman reigns is a fucking dickhead when it comes to loving someone.” you drank your water, leaving cody flabbergasted. “right, don’t worry (y/n). i believe you.”

truthfully, you didn’t need people to believe you. you just wanted people to know that you were in fact still hurting. “i don’t need you to pick sides, he’s gonna be your partner in the ring for a long time.” he shook his head. “no, no. of course i’ll still work with him, it’s just… i just want to be friends with you (y/n).” he admitted once again. “what is it with you, rhodes? do you want a push? do you want something else?” you chuckled. once again, cody sighed in relief when he heard your chuckles. “not at all, i just wanna be friends without wanting anything in return. jesus, (y/n).” cody groaned.

you felt bad. this man was the first person to slowly crack you open after your break up. “i’m sorry. i’m not used to it.” you finally gave in and apologized. “it’s okay to put your guard up, but i’m serious right now-“ his sentence was cut off by a person standing in front of your table. “h- hi, can you sign my shirt?” a little boy approached cody. his eyes lit up in excitement. “hi buddy, sure!” you were trying your best to not crack a smile. cody took the sharpie and signed his shirt. “i wanna be like you when i grow up.” your heart melted.

“thank you so much, i can’t wait to watch you tonight!” the fan was having the time of his life. “i’ll give the best performance for you!” he waved at the fan and faced you again. cody saw that you were slightly smiling at the interaction. you had a soft spot for kids, especially the ones who were interested in your wrestling. you were once like him, having hopes and dreams of being a wrestler. that was until you were pulled by your dad from the ring. that was why you had so much passion for your job.

“as i was saying,” he was backtracking to his past sentence. “i’ll be there if you need anything. you can actually count on me, (y/n).” he smiled and you couldn’t help but to mimic his expression. you were smiling. “i made you smile!” his eyes widened in surprise. “shut the fuck up before i kick your ass, rhodes.”

showtime came and you were monitoring from the backstage. you had your earpiece in, ready to go. 30 minutes before showtime, you thought. you quickly ran to the locker room, briefing the talents for tonight. you knocked on the door, breathing heavily. “(y/n)?” to your luck, it was roman who opened the door. the man was wearing a t-shirt and his black trainers, his usual setup. his hair was still down, curls grew longer than usual. you mentally slapped yourself, “30 minutes before showtime, tell everyone to gather around.” without wanting to argue, roman nodded at your command. “okay.” you went to the other side, getting your other talent. “cody, open up!” you knocked. “it’s unlocked!”

he was already in his ‘promo’ suit and damn, he looked good, you thought. “my eyes are up here.” you smacked his shoulder. “30 minutes before showtime, let’s go.” he nodded and followed you. the bloodline was already there; jimmy and jey messing around like usual, solo gazing out, paul heyman fixing his suit, and roman was just standing there.

“right. now that everyone is here,” you paused for a second, pulling out your papers. “i don’t want anyone to fuck up. deliver your lines like usual, like we practiced. i won’t be taking any excuses.” everyone nodded in unison, trying to get on your good side. you were in your working mode, meaning no one dared to mess with you. “once again, if you fuck things up, you’ll be dealing with me.” your tone was cold like usual. paul (not the wiseman) popped up in the room. “why does everyone look like they are going to cry?” he asked, earning a glare from you. “that’s my cue to shut up.” paul laughed. “have fun tonight boys, don’t let her scare you! she’s harmless!”

the night went on and you were monitoring the cameras. “switch to camera 17.” you said to the earpiece. “right, ms. (l/n).” the staff replied. “i’ll be moving to sound, if anyone needs me just talk to me through the earpiece.” the crew nodded as you made your way to the sound room. “rhodes’s music in 5.” roman was delivering his lines and cody was supposed to interrupt him, like the script played out. you saw cody standing on the side of the exit door, he was fidgeting. “yo.” you patted his back. “calm down, you’re a professional. you can do this.” your words got into him, he flashed you a smile. “that’s the first compliment i got from you, thanks (y/n).” “don’t fuck up or it’ll be the last compliment i’ll be giving you.” still so professional, he thought.

“switch to echo, i think it’s better.” you said to the sound crew. “yes, ma’am.” paul was right next to you, muttering some words to the earpiece as well. “it’s going smoothly than expected. since this is the first time cody is in the ring with roman.” paul sighed in relief. “i think you got into their skin, they don’t wanna mess up because of you, son.” the man nudged you. “i’ve crafted this to perfection, if something goes wrong. it’s not my fault.”

everyone was satisfied with the night. it went perfectly as planned, no botches, the crowd loved it. the talents went backstage, feeling relieved that their night was done. but they couldn’t go home before you gave them the evaluations for tonight’s performance. as you entered the locker room, no one could read your expression. were you satisfied? were you ready to spit fire on them? no one knew. “good job.” was all that came from your mouth. “i’ll be expecting you all to keep it like this.” before anyone could say anything, you exited the room, continuing your job.

roman noticed that cody was stood up from his seat, wanting to follow you. at this point, he was just confused with your new friendship with cody. “what are you, her dog?” his sentence caught cody’s attention. “what?” he asked. “you follow her around, like a dog. she doesn’t need your help, you know.” roman said as he unwrapped his gloves. “i’m not her dog, i’m her friend.” cody clenched his fist. roman could only chuckle at his answer. “friend? good luck with that.” jey sighed in frustration. “that’s enough, uce. let the man be.” he gave cody a sympathetic smile.

“i don’t like him.” roman said, after cody left the room. “why?” roman shrugged his shoulders, leaning back on the couch. “man, you gotta realize that you’re no one to (y/n) now.” solo finally spoke up. “i know that.” he muttered in response. “could be anyone, but just not him… i don’t fuck with that dude being friends with (y/n). and why isn’t she bothered by him? thought she hated everyone here.”

“well she doesn’t hate us, she hates you.” “way to rub it in.”

was it jealousy? roman thought. no, he was so over you. but as soon as he exited the room, the champion saw you cracking a small smile to cody–it was in fact, jealousy.

a/n: i promise im gonna write a (y/n) and roman interaction in the next chapter (are they gonna argue or not???? who knows)

#roman reigns #the usos #wwe #wwe imagines #paul heyman #jey uso #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x reader #wrestling #cody rhodes #jimmy uso #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes x reader