#it seems so off to tag this as maria and use she/her - but should it?

[slavicafire]

there are great fragments of an art periodical that I wanted to publish - by a polish writer whose style greatly resonates with me... but the subject of their gender identity is so complex, and I’m still not sure how to tackle it all respectfully to engage with his/her works online. especially as a cis person. 

there are multiple works written about them so it could be useful to read/reread them - but then... can those types of works regarding something so intimate ever be accurate? and from other cis people at that?

it’s always so difficult to approach this when it comes for people from the past that we are inherently unable to judge fully. difficult and perhaps counterproductive? putting them in modern contexts when they inherently don’t belong in them?

the work itself was published in 1901, back when the writer still used their female name and female pronouns - which then changed a couple of years later for a huge part of their life where they identified as a man, to return back to using female forms right before their death. which name do I use? do I try to give a wider context? should I? is it even mine to give?

and at the end of the day, to back away from engaging just because this one grand question remains a mystery seems a special kind of cruelty, doesn’t it?

#żmija gada #this rant probably makes no sense whatsoever. #sorry #even tagging this seems weird #do I tag #piotr odmieniec włast #or maria komornicka? #it seems so off to tag this as maria and use she/her - but should it? #question to Poles - what do you think? have you read any works about the writer that would be meaningful in this regard? #żmija vs chimera

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ iv ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

warning/s: sexual content but it's nothing too explicit. also angst angst angst.

author's note: NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. also, lemme know what u guys think!! would love to read it honestly. it was what had been keeping me inspired.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @leclercdream

masterlist.

You have three philosophies in life.

Pussies do not get the good stuff. If you want the good stuff, don't be a pussy.

Hard work will pay off one day. In the meantime, work hard but don't work too hard. You work smart and make it seem like you're working hard so by the time your “hard” work pays off, you’re not too tired from working and still have energy to enjoy your reward, you know? Does that make sense?

Whatever Max Verstappen wanted, Max Verstappen would get.

Now let us focus on philosophy number three. It's a shitty philosophy to have, but when you're working as the manager of Red Bull’s golden boy—after Sebastian Vettel, of course—that philosophy sort of becomes the job description. It's your job to give whatever Max Verstappen wanted, whatever he needed.

When he asks you that question, sounding so innocent as if he hasn't just yanked your entire world off its axis by saying those words, your first reaction is to pull up the middle finger. Fuck you, Max. Max is an asshole for asking you that. Max is an absolute asshole for asking you for a kiss. For the five years you've worked for him, he should already be aware of the power he holds over your head. Should be aware that you'll give anything he'll ask. That's why he should be careful with what he's asking from you.

Said asshole has the audacity to pout. He resembled the pet duck who lived in your Abuelo's farm that you were very fond of in your childhood. Her name was Maria and she was a menace. Your Abuelo even tied a pink bow to the duck’s neck so it could be easily recognizable. A 181-cm tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired Dutch duck with a blue-eyed gaze that will never fail to make your bones tremble and your heart stutter once you let yourself stare at it. You can put a bow around his neck, too, like what your Abuelo did to that duck. Then, use the bow to choke him in a way that is definitely not sexy or kinky but in a way that screams murder, murder, murder.

“That's not nice.”

“‘M not a nice person.”

“You're a nice person, you just don't do nice things.”

You give him a weird look.

“If you weren't a nice person, you would not be here with me right now,” he continues, in a manner that made him seem like a hundred-old sage imparting wisdom. “But you're here and you're not leaving and you're not hurting me so you're nice.”

His words cause something rotten to bloom in your ribs, “How are you so certain that ‘m not gonna end up hurtin’ you? For all you know, I'm gonna use this billiard stick to make you a human skewer right now.”

He laughs. God. The sound is absolutely beautiful that it terrifies you.

“You're you, [Name]. You would never hurt me.”

In a sense, he's right. You will never hurt him. Not intentionally, at least. If you wanted him to hurt, you'll be leaving right now and flying to Texas the same way Kelly did in Abu Dhabi. Because, for someone like Max, nothing in this world is more painful than to be left alone when all you yearned for is someone to be there for you.

“So……will you?” he asks again. “Will you kiss me?”

He's drunk, your brain reasons. Your fingers gently reach for his jaw—very angular, you belatedly realize—and Max chases the warmth of your skin. He does not know what he's asking, your brain reasons again. You tug him towards you and your mouth meets his, immediately registering the taste of the beer on his tongue. He’s stupid, your brain added. I’m stupid, too, you argue mentally and pushes him against the side of the billiard table and toss your stick to the floor and let yourself take everything from Max Verstappen. Fuck you Max, you think with finality. Your brain replies: You’re also fucked.

He took what he wanted from you. Every day. Every single day. He will ask and you will give. Now, it is your turn to take. One last time before the inevitable goodbye that you know will break both of your hearts.

Anger. Frustration. That's what you feel right now. Anger because this is going to make things more complicated for you and goddammit, why are you making things hard for yourself? Frustrated because you’re not supposed to do this but you cannot fucking stop. Thank fuck you resigned before pulling this shit because this is soooooo unprofessional.

You read somewhere that said something like all people are driven to the point of eating their gods after a time. And is this situation not a perfect demonstration of this? Max is your god. Max was your god. And you are going to devour him—fueled by five years of frustration and anger and a series of why, why, why didn't you talk to Horner? Now it's too late because I'm leaving all because you didn't talk to fucking Horner.

You've forgiven 2021. 2022 made your grudge grow. And you're not stupid to continue staying after his 2023 victory when it's clearly not happening—the dream that will be given to you with Max's power. You will never forgive yourself if you stayed here and be continuously reminded of what you could become, what you failed to become.

Max is surprisingly pliant under your hands. A rare occasion. One would expect Max Verstappen to take the lead because that's what he did in the race tracks. A 20-second lead from everyone else. He's also the type to just do whatever he wanted, you know? And people would let him. Because he's Max Verstappen.

Dominance. Total dominance.

“Wait,” he squeezes your arms and you do not hear him clearly the first time because you're so concentrated on his lips and how it feels and tastes against yours. “Wait, wait. Slow down.”

You pull away and you hear him take a gasp of air, “Somethin’ wrong?”

He looks so beautiful like this. Beneath you. Lips swollen. Blue eyes wide with desire. Hair perfectly messy. Grip on your arm so tight that you're sure will definitely leave a hand-shaped bruise tomorrow.

“Can’t breathe,” he says with a light laugh and you resist the urge to violently bash your head against the billiard table because what the fuck? That's not good for your heart. It's too… too… adorable. Max is not supposed to be an adorable person.

You suck in a breath and lower your head until your forehead meets Max’s firm chest.

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

You raise your head and meet Max’s eyes, the culprit behind your insanity right now.

(Your Abuela said that blue eyes were just blue eyes. Until you fall in love with someone with blue eyes and blue becomes a color that consumed your world whole. You appreciated the sky more because it reminded you of his eyes. You appreciated the color of the seas more because it reminded you of his eyes. Blue became the color of love.)

Now what? Do you continue or…?

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Do you even need to ask?” you deadpan. Max’s hands circle around your waist and he gently guides you away from him. He dusts his shirt once he has fully risen from the billiard table before his hand finds yours. Fingers intertwining together, he leads you out of the entertainment room.

Your heart drums with anticipation. Numerous questions circle around your head but it all disappears in a flash when Max brings you to the room where you found him that morning. You wince when you walk past the broken door.

Yeah…

Making a payment plan will be hell. You're unemployed at the current moment, too. The first thing you have to do when you land in Texas is find a job.

He makes you sit on his bed, the soft mattress dipping down on your weight. You can only stare at him, brows furrowing in confusion and a question sitting on the tip of your tongue that you are yet to voice out. Max makes a beeline to his closet, throwing it open and procuring a box.

A box.

He walks back to you, dropping on his knees and that action makes you panic. Then, Max opens the box, pulling out the most gorgeous pair of five-inch block heels you have ever laid eyes upon and gently slips them onto your feet. The straps have pearls and satin bows and it has tiny white diamonds, elegantly cut, as the centerpiece. Not even the YSL Opyum heels you own can compare to its elegance and beauty.

You almost kick him in the face because you do not expect that he’ll do that.

I bought shoes and they don't fit her. Max has told you. You feel bile rise up your throat.

The shoes. They fit you. Perfectly. As if it was made to be yours. As if it was bought to be yours. As if he was thinking of you, who is nothing but his manager and somewhat friend, when he bought the gorgeous heels instead of Kelly Piquet, his fucking girlfriend of three years whom he had been living with in this fucking penthouse, and parenting little P with.

“They're perfect,” Max whispers and he looks up with that smile playing on his lips. You feel tears sting your eyes and you press your lips into a thin line before moving your gaze away, blinking rapidly.

Max is doing this because he thought you were Kelly.

“They're custom, you know? They're the only pair in the world.”

His words make the taste of bile a hundred times worse. You stare at the shoes on your feet as if it's a sin to have the shoes fit you. No wonder Kelly is mad at Max. If Leo has commissioned custom heels with another woman in mind and got your shoe size wrong after three years of being together, you'll feel hurt, too.

You feel the need to apologize to Kelly. Maybe a quick message to her IG? You also follow each other’s private account.

“You’re thinking,” he says and his voice snaps you out of the rabbit hole known as your thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothin’,” you lie. The feeling of wanting to puke intensifies so you grab Max by his collar and plant your lips against his to push back the imaginary bile stuck on your throat and from there, the situation escalates to the point that clothes are removed. One by one. When you reach to unstrap the heels, Max grabbed your wrists, almost panicked.

“What are you doin’?” you ask.

“Don't take them off please.”

Whatever Max wanted, Max would get.

Your name built a home in Max’s mouth, the syllables rolling off his tongue with ease at every pleasure he felt, while your fingers explore every inch of Max’s skin. You're only allowed to watch back then. Now, you're allowed to touch.

Hearing his whimpers and little groans and shudders—all done by your hands—you feel nothing but satisfaction. He chants your name like it's a prayer and you're his god and if that is not love then you do not what is.

You wait for Max to utter Kelly’s name midway.

He never did.

“What are you doing?” his voice is groggy with sleep. After doing it, he immediately passes out. Weak ass bitch. You're still waiting for the horror once the realization of what you’ve done sinks into your system. The annoying headache, too. For now, none of them have arrived yet. Probably because you still have enough alcohol in your system to numb things out for you. While waiting, you're on your phone.

Ha, it's past 12 midnight now. You have three days to tell Max before you fly to Texas.

“Talkin' to someone,” you reply cryptically. His brows knit together.

“Who?”

“Just Logan.”

“The American in Williams?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, the American in Williams.”

You notice how his arms on your waist tighten, pulling you a little closer to him, but you say nothing. This action causes flowers to bloom in your lungs and you hope he hasn't noticed how your breath hitched.

“Why?”

“He’s my friend. Friends talk,” you deadpan.

Logan Sargeant is an absolute sweetheart. He reminds you a lot of your little brother and you both share the same sentiments regarding the feeling of being unwelcomed in Formula One. You suppose he has it worse though. Nobody in the grid really makes an effort to befriend the young racer and you're fifty percent sure that the fact he's American made a contribution to that.

None of the other racers even follow him on Insta.

“Well, what are you two talking about?” Grumpy and bratty Max is back. Welcome back, asshole.

“He’s in Texas right now and he was askin’ if I was back home, too. Said we should grab a drink together. I promised to show him around Austin.”

“You never invited me to Austin.”

“Why would you even go to Austin?” your nose scrunch a little. “You visit your mother for Christmas.”

He rolls his eyes.

“You're befriending too much racers.”

“Excuse me? I only have Logan as a friend. Charles, too, by extension because he's your friend,” you point out. “Checo and Daniel and Yuki and Liam because they work with you.”

“And me.”

“You're not my friend.”

“What am I then? Your dog?”

“I work for you.”

“You work with me, not for me,” he corrects.

You do not know why your heart skipped a beat at that.

“I’m just trynna be a good friend here and you're bein’ unreasonably grumpy,” you try to shift the subject to save your own sanity. “None of you even tried to befriend Logan.”

Max abruptly reaches for his phone on the bedside table and unlocks it. You watch as he opens his Instagram, the public one, and added Logan's account. You gape. He switches to his private account and searches for Logan’s account in your profile's list of followers and adds him, too.

“What the fuck, Max?”

“I’m befriending him,” he says simply. “I’ll invite him over if he ever comes by in Monaco during the off-season.”

You blink.

“Now say goodbye to him and go back to sleep.”

He tosses his phone to the bedside table and turn his back on you in a manner that reminded you of a very petulant child.

You glance at your phone only to see Logan’s freaked out messages.

logan: HE FOLLOWED ME??!? ON BOTH ACCOUNTS???

logan: AM I SEEING THINGS? HAVE I ACCIDENTALLY SNORTED DRUGS??!

logan: maybe it's the texas heat??

logan: *sent a screenshot*

logan: MAX VERSTAPPEN INVITED ME TO HIS PENTHOUSE??

you: congrats child

logan: is this your doing??!?

logan: are you with him now?

logan: wait that's impossible, itd be 2 am in monaco now there's no way youd be together rn

If only he knows.

you: how bout we talk later once the sun rises here in monaco?

you: or maybe once i arrive in the us?

logan: sure sure

you: stay safe out there kid

logan: HE JUST FOLLOWED ME I CAN DIE HAPPY

You toss your phone aside and inch closer to Max, looping your arms around him and falling asleep in his warmth.

Your phone rings and it's not the Max Max Max Super Max Max ringtone. It's the default one.

Mama, the caller ID indicates. 4:31 AM is written on the upper right corner of your phone screen. You press the answer button.

“Your Papa…… It was a dangerous call. He needs to see you before he… He might not make it.”

That alone is enough for you to jump out of bed. You scramble to grab last night’s clothes and slip them on. Fuck, they still smell like alcohol.

“Hey, hey, what's wrong?” Max, who's rudely awakened when you abruptly jumped out of bed, looks so lost and when he sees you run your way out of his bedroom and to the stairs, he panics. The poor man panicked. He falls down the bed and runs after you, having the decency to only grab a towel to cover his lower half. He stops you, grabbing your wrist just as you're at the lowest step of the stairs.

“Wait, where are you going?” his voice is still rough with sleep and he's aggressively rubbing out his grogginess from his eyes. You stop, letting out a breath that you don't realize you're holding before turning around to face him. Then, the guilt rushes in. Max looks so…you don't have the words to describe it. His hair is a mess and he still looks sleepy but he also looks wide awake and kind of panicking and confused.

This is a face that's equally endearing and heartbreaking. You can't believe this will be the last time you'll be seeing him. You're still supposed to have three days left but now it's cut short and you—

You'll miss him.

“Sorry, baby,” you come up a few steps and cup his cheeks, bringing his face down so you can kiss his forehead. His hand comes up to lay on top of yours, eyes fluttering close.

“Where are you going?” he asks again.

“Texas,” you reply. “Dad… he… 'Twas a bad call and I need to see him. I need—I need to go home now.”

This is the reality of being family with a firefighter. You're always in danger of losing your father in one of the calls. And that is happening now.

Max understands because he knows your father's line of work.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

You shake your head.

“Then, I’ll drive you.”

“No,” you shoot him down quickly. “You drank last night. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m not drunk now.”

“Max,” you breathe through your nose to calm yourself down. “I’ll take the next flight available to the US. You stay here.”

“Take my jet.”

“No, Max,” you say. “Thank you for the offer but you’ll use the jet when you visit your mother.”

“I can fly commercial,” he squeezes your hands. “You don't want me to drive you. You don't want me to come with you. At least take the jet.”

You open your mouth to protest.

“Just take the jet, please, [Name].”

Whatever Max wanted, Max would get. So you nod your head slowly because it looks like he'll argue just to get you seated in his jet. And you'll argue with him if it was any other day but not today because you need to leave quickly. Time is becoming too precious. You can lose your Dad any second. You just wish you can see him and talk to him before he went.

“Okay.”

You pull away, whipping around to head to the door but Max doesn't let your wrist go. You turn back to him.

“What is it, Max?”

“Text me when you land in Texas?”

“Of course.”

“One last thing. Wait here.”

He runs back to his room and you tap your foot impatiently, eyes trained on the mismatched shoes that covered your feet. Max returns not even five minutes later and now, he's wearing clothes and he’s carrying the shoe box from last night.

You swallow the lump on your throat.

“Take this with you.”

With shaking hands, you take the box.

“See you around, [Name].”

“Goodbye, Max.”

It's a good thing that you spent the entire morning yesterday packing because this makes everything smoother for you. It is a little past 5 am now and the outside world is still enveloped in total darkness. You gaze at the apartment one last time, three suitcases in tow. The keys feel heavy in your hands as you lock the door behind you.

In the middle of your apartment living room sits a lone shoe box with a letter that says: Sorry, Max. I can't steal more from Kelly.

Beside the box is a folder.

An unfinished guide on becoming Max Verstappen’s manager. (I’ll have the final copy printed, binded, and sent before the 2024 pre-season. Haha, I’m channeling my inner Toto Wolff.)

The first paper you’ll see after you open the folder reads:

Max, I know you’d be the one who’d find this one day. By that time, I’ll be in Texas already. I don't know if I’d have told you that I resigned already. If I didn't, that's because I’m a pussy. Sorry.

Anyways, I will say this as straightforwardly as I can because I think I had been a pussy long enough.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager by 2024 and honestly, I am worried. Not for you, of course. You’d win WDC whether I am your manager or not. That's how good you are. I am worried for your future manager. I’m afraid it would take someone with guts like me to work for with someone like you. A powerhouse manager for a powerhouse athlete.

Inside, you can find the following things:

How to bake my abuela’s special cheesecake.

How to make Red Bull vodka

How to make Max’s favorite pasta for lunch

List of Max Verstappen’s favorite places in each city

How to iron Max Verstappen’s clothes

What to do when Max accidentally sets the kitchen on fire

What to do when Max has a bad race

How to protect Max Verstappen from angry Hamilton fans

How to deal with a drunk Max Verstappen

Etc…

I will still be watching your journey, not from the Red Bull garage but from another continent. We worked five amazing years together and now it is time for us to fly on different skies. As much as I liked working with you, you can't be the only one reaching your dreams. Don’t worry, I’ll always reach out.

Thank you, Max. For giving me a home. I’m not talking about the apartment. I don't believe that home are establishments. Home is the people you love and Max, you are someone I love.

In the last page of this folder, you’d see a handmade bracelet tucked inside. It's small and it's made of cheap beads and I do not care if you don't think it's worthy enough to be worn on your wrist. Not even going to be offended. It's dirt compared to the Cartier bracelets you wear everyday. I bought the beads while roaming in Brazil and I just thought I’d make you one.

I cannot give you any gift that you already cannot buy with your money so I went ahead and made this. Money cannot buy anything made by my own hands.

Thank you again, Max.

And I’m so fucking sorry.

Please don't be angry.

I love you.

You watch the sun rise inside Max's jet as you fly over Monaco to Texas.

#mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen #f1imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 #formulaone #fanfic #max verstappen fanfic

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l four

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: After a few weeks, Joel finally realizes that he can’t stay away from you and he gives into his desires; Ellie and Dina start getting closer; you give Joel a special gift that once belonged to your father.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, EMOTIONAL AND VERBAL ABUSE. reader gets slapped. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. infidelity, implied infertility (reader), mutual pining and yearning, Ellie and Dina interaction.

Word Count: 7k

July, 2024

About twenty three and a half days.

That’s the longest that Joel Miller can stand to bear without seeing you again, and even then, he’d found that amount of time to be too goddamn fucking long for his liking—each and every single minute of those twenty three and a half days felt like an eternity to him. Joel had lost count of the number of times he had almost caved, almost scratched that overwhelming itch he had to seek you out, to satisfy his craving as if he were a recovering addict going through withdrawals and all he needed was a good fix to feel better again. Hell, the more he thought it over in his mind, the more he’d started to realize that wasn’t all that far off. You actually were something of a drug to him, and even though he’d only had a mere taste of what being with you could be like, he was already hooked on the feeling. One hit of you was all it had taken and now he’s a fiend and he wants more of you—he needs more of you or he’ll surely lose his mind.

Exhaling a labored breath, Joel reaches up as he wipes at his damp brow with the back of his hand. The sun is sweltering, beating down on him hard.

July had arrived, and with it came along the most unbearable and unforgiving heat. Winter had been cruel, but summer had decided she wouldn’t be all that much kinder. While Joel appreciated not having to trudge knee deep through the snow, he wasn’t too sure if he would prefer that over the way his denim shirt stuck to him uncomfortably, clinging to his skin like cellophane. He’d been used to it in his first life, having been born and raised in Texas—twenty one years later, he had discovered that he was no longer accustomed to these kind of blistering temperatures. 

After returning from his early morning patrol shift, Joel had stopped by Main Street, popping into the market to pick up some vegetables to make dinner—he’d also gotten some fruit for Ellie. As it turned out, she had quite the sweet tooth. She had gone through about a week’s worth of apples and berries in just a couple of days, but luckily he had enough food rations left over for the week to pick up some more for her. Once he’d finished and left the market, he found himself walking over towards the horse stables instead of heading back to the house like he should have. He really should have gone home, but after twenty three and a half days of fighting his temptation as best he could, Joel realized it was useless. 

Most, if not all, of his thoughts began and ended with you.

Sure, Ellie would mention you here and there over their shared meals together, and even though she had assured him that you seemed to be doing just fine, it wasn’t enough for Joel. It wasn’t even close to being enough. He had to see you for himself. He needed to talk to you, even if it meant running the risk of Tommy finding out. He wouldn’t be too happy about it, but if anything, Joel could use the excuse that he’d just stopped in to check up on Ellie. She had become something of your little helper, taking on the role of a stable hand after Maria had assigned one of the other hands to work in the mess hall. You’d needed the extra help and Ellie had been willing. She had to contribute and she liked being around you, so it worked out in everyone’s favor.

In reality, Joel trusted you with Ellie and he didn’t need to check up on her knowing she was in safe, capable hands—but the opportunity to use the kid as leverage presented itself and he’d be a fool not to take it.

He walks into the stables and starts making his way down along the open stalls, peeking into each one until he finds you—alone—in the second to last stall with his brother’s horse, Ranger. You’re leaning forward slightly, a look of complete concentration on your face as you firmly press the diaphragm of the stethoscope you’re using to the animal’s side and listen. After a minute, you hum and gently tug the earpieces, draping the instrument around your neck as you stand upright and pull out the wooden clipboard you’re holding underneath your arm. 

Joel’s breath audibly catches in the back of his throat, an intense, fiery blaze burning deep in his belly as he drinks the sight of you in. The heat isn’t being any kinder to you than it is to him—you’re sweating profusely and your pale pink camisole is drenched and clings to your body, accentuating each and every curve. Every inch of exposed skin is beaded with drops of perspiration that you’d all but given up on trying to wipe away. You let it drip freely, allow it to run down the sides of your face, neck—it trickles down your chest and between your soft, supple breasts. 

He swallows dryly, trying painfully to ignore the way his cock twitches against the zipper of his jeans as devilish thoughts begin creeping into his mind. Shoving them away, Joel enters the stall and says your name.

You look up at him, eyebrows raising.

Though you seem oddly surprised to see him, you still offer him a kind smile. “Well, hey there stranger. Long time no see.” You pause briefly, shifting your attention back down to your clipboard. Taking a pencil from the back pocket of your faded blue jeans, you start to scribble down your findings on the piece of paper attached to it. “You know, I was starting to think that maybe you were avoiding me or something, Miller.” Although you’d said it in a joking manner, he detects the hint of seriousness in your tone.

Joel shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a sheepish expression on his face. “M’real sorry ‘bout that, darlin’. I just had a lot goin’ on over the last couple weeks. Got real busy,” he fibs, feeling like nothing short of a complete jackass for lying to you. “I, uh—I had to do a whole lotta fixin’ up around the house, for starters. Between that, workin’ patrol, and takin’ care of Ellie, I had both my hands full for a minute there.”

“Well, if you’re here to check up on her, she’s outside in the paddock with Dina right now. They’re hand walking Luna for me,” you say, jabbing your pencil over towards the open stall window. Squinting, he sees the two teenagers out in the paddock, walking along on either side of a white horse, both girls observing the animal’s movements carefully with every step that she takes. You smile once again, though you keep your eyes fixed on your clipboard as you continue jotting down your notes. “Funny enough, if I weren’t so thrilled those two ended up being such good friends, I would actually feel kind of offended that Ellie’s spending a lot more of her time with Dina than she is with me. I guess I have officially been replaced.” You feign a look of hurt, causing him to chuckle. “She’s doing fine, but you’re more than welcome to go out there and check on her. I’m guessing that’s the reason you’re here.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Actually, I came down here ‘cause I wanted to see you,” Joel blurts without thinking. Heat suddenly prickles at his ears.

You stop writing and your head snaps up in slight shock as you repeat in disbelief, “You wanted to see me?”

He nods in admission. “Yeah. I did. Besides, the stables are on the way to the house from the market. Figured it would be the perfect time to stop in and say hello,” he explains, unable to hide the slight nervous edge to his tone as he steps closer towards you. Joel’s closeness prompts a curious little sniff from Ranger, whom he would borrow for patrol from time to time when Tommy was on a different rotation. His brother wasn’t all too fond of anyone taking his beloved horse, but he’d made an exception for Joel. He pats the stallion on his thick, muscular neck. “Hope that’s alright with you.”

Nibbling on your lower lip, a strange feeling blossoms inside your stomach, a fluttering feeling—as if a kaleidoscope of butterflies had just taken flight inside of you. “Of course that’s alright,” you finally reply. Peering at the canvas tote bag slung over his forearm, you ask, “Did you get anything good at the market today?”

He shrugs. “Just some carrots and potatoes for dinner. Oh, and some fruit for the kid. Apples, berries—even got some peaches for her to try.”

Your mouth falls open slightly and there’s an excited glimmer in your eyes. “They have peaches?”

Wyoming hadn’t really been known for its peaches due to the extreme frigid temperatures during the winter months that would often lead to what you’d learned from Martha was called a spring freeze. It didn’t affect all of the plants and trees in Jackson, but there were a few species that simply could not survive the damage caused by the cold, bitter frost—peach trees happened to be one of them. You had seen a couple of the trees that were planted around the community, but only once had you ever seen them come into fruition. The first and last time you had seen peaches available at the market had been three summers ago.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Martha mentioned a couple of the trees survived the freeze durin’ the bloom period. Pointed me towards the bin and said they were picked fresh earlier this afternoon.” Digging his hand into the bag, he pulls one out to show you. He then offers it to you, holding it out in the palm of his hand. “Here, darlin’.”

Shaking your head, you politely decline. “No, I couldn’t. I know they’re meant for Ellie—”

“Relax, peach.” A small grin tugs at Joel’s lips as he continues holding it out to you. “I got plenty for her. Go on, take it.”

You flash him an appreciative smile. Setting down the clipboard on the two step mounting block behind you, you turn back to him and accept it, your fingers brushing his open palm as you take it from him. You eagerly bite into the fruit, groaning loudly as the sweetness of it coats your tongue and sends your taste buds flying into the clouds. The peach is perfect, right in between being too firm and too ripe. “This is amazing,” you say incredulously through a mouthful, prompting Joel to laugh. “It’s so good.”

You take a second bite and gasp when it pops in your mouth, its sticky juice trickling out of the corner of your mouth and down the side of your chin. Before you even have the chance to lift a finger, Joel reaches out and he gingerly wipes the juice away with his thumb.

Freezing momentarily, your eyes widen as he continues to sweep his finger across your bottom lip. 

“Had a little somethin’ there,” Joel murmurs.

Nervously, you finish chewing your mouthful of peach and swallow harshly, as if the fruit had turned into glass. You thought he would withdraw his hand by now, but instead, he moves it and cradles the side of your face in his palm. You can’t help but wince—his touch is gentle, but you haven’t been touched there like this in a long, long time. In fact, any time that a hand met your cheek lately, it was in a rough and painful strike.

“Joel,” you shakily breathe out his name. Your eyes momentarily flutter closed and you tilt your head to the side, sinking right into his large hand.

Push him away, you silently urge yourself. Don’t be stupid. Push him away.

But you can’t bring yourself to do it.

You stand there and continue melting into his touch.

He echoes your thoughts. “Tell me to back off,” Joel whispers, grazing the soft, delicate skin of your cheekbone with his thumb.

Your eyes fly open, lips parting slightly when you meet his gaze. When you speak, you hardly recognize the timid little voice that comes out of you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, darlin’. Tell me to back off.”

He’s standing closer, much too close. So close that you can count every single gray that’s speckled in his beard—so close that you finally notice the small scar on his right temple.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to take an even breath.

He waits, but you say nothing.

Joel leans down, bringing his face closer towards yours. Still cradling your cheek in his hand, he lightly starts skimming the other side of your face with the tip of his nose. He trails it down your jawline, drawing closer and closer to the corner of your mouth—that’s where he pauses. It’s only for a second, but to you, that one second feels like an eternity. He pulls back slightly, giving you one last chance to push him away, to tell him that you’re not okay with this—to tell him to stop. When he’s met with nothing but a small, needy whimper, he moves in to close the remaining gap of space between your bodies. Heart pounding, he takes the final leap and captures your mouth with his in a tentative kiss. 

He tastes the sweetness of the peach on your lips mixed together with the saltiness of sweat and you taste something else too—something he can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s heavenly. He yearns for more, nearly aches for a chance to explore every inch of that pretty little mouth of yours. He wants something deeper, something more, but when he remembers that you’re in a public space in broad fucking daylight, he has no other choice but to pull himself away from you.

“Joel,” you whisper his name, wanting nothing more than for him to kiss you again. You almost find the guts to ask him when the sound of Ellie and Dina calling out your name startles you both, causing you to jump apart and tear away from each other.

The girls enter the stall just a second later.

They’re both sweating, their faces flushed from the heat. 

“Joel? What are you doing here?” Ellie asks him, confused. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him around the stables.

Joel shrugs, nervously touching a hand to the back of his burning neck.

“Just came in to check on you, kiddo. S’all.”

Ellie glances between the two of you, arching an eyebrow. There’s a strange glint in her brown eyes that tells Joel she knows something had just happened and he’s certain the only reason she isn’t confronting you both about it is because Dina’s standing right beside her, seemingly oblivious to the air of tension in the stall.

“Did you girls need something?” you offer in the steadiest voice you can possibly muster.

“We just came to tell you that Luna is back in her stall. She did really well on her walk. Her back leg doesn’t seem to be bothering her anymore,” Dina informs you. “We also finished with all the grooming for today. All the horses on the list you gave us are all squeaky clean, at least for now.” She smiles. “Is it okay if we call it a day? Ellie wants to come over to my house and hang out for a while.”

“You know Talia likes for you to give her some kind of a heads up when you bring company over,” you remind Dina of her older sister’s house rule.

“Yeah, I know auntie. I asked her permission this morning and she said it was okay.”

You glance at Joel. “As long as it's alright with you.”

“‘Course it is.” He nods and points an index finger at Ellie. “Make sure you’re home in time for dinner, kiddo. That’s my only rule. Understood?”

Before Ellie can respond, Dina beams and takes her arm. “Great! Come on, let’s go!” she exclaims as she all but drags Ellie out of the stall.

Joel waits until he’s sure the girls are gone and turns to you, clearing his throat. “I should—I should probably get on home now.” Pausing, he asks, “I’ll see you around?”

All you can do is give him a tiny nod of your head.

“Okay,” he says, sounding relieved

He turns on the heel of his boot and leaves the stall. 

Joel was playing with fucking fire.

And so were you.

“So tell me, does this town have some kinda weird ass rule that says every teenaged girl’s bedroom has to be fucking pink?” Ellie questions as she takes a glimpse around Dina’s bedroom. Her small nose wrinkles in disgust. The walls are painted a light pink color and it looks similar to her own room—but at the very least the previous owner of her space had thrown some green accents in here and there that made it a little less horrendous.

“What? Is pink not your most favorite color?” Dina teases her with a giggle, shutting her door behind her. She kicks off her boots, setting them next to her closet door.

“Totally,” Ellie deadpans, rolling her eyes at her. She gestures to herself with her hand. “Isn’t it just so obvious?”

Throwing her head back, Dina laughs again.

Ellie’s stomach somersaults. Dina might have been nauseatingly girly, but hell, if she wasn’t one of the prettiest girls Ellie had ever met—smooth golden skin, wide brown eyes, and long black hair that falls all the way down to the small of her back. Ellie had noticed the way several boys around the town would stare at Dina and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had her eye on any of them. Of all the fucking things that Ellie didn’t have the fucking balls for, it was asking her friend if she had a boyfriend or not.

Not that it matters if she does or doesn’t.

Right?

“Make yourself comfortable,” Dina offers, waving a hand around. She grins. “Feel free to snoop.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” She turns towards her writing desk, noticing a yellow flower beside a pile of notebooks. “Well, well, well,” she says, picking it up. She gingerly pinches the stem between her fingers. “A flower, huh? Who’s it from?” Ellie inquires, her back still to her.

Sheepishly, Dina replies, “Oh. That. Um—my friend gave it to me the other day. His name is Jesse.”

Ellie feels a twinge of jealousy stir in her belly. “And who’s that? Your boyfriend or something?”

“No. I don’t have a boyfriend.” She briefly pauses before adding, “Or a girlfriend.”

Freezing on the spot, Ellie holds the flower in a deathgrip. “Oh,” is all she can get herself to say. Throat bobbing, Ellie sets the flower back down on the desk and then turns to look at Dina. The girl flashes her a small, shy smile, causing her stomach to flip again. Awkwardly, Ellie tears her gaze away from her and her eyes flit to the bookshelf in the far corner of her bedroom. “Can I check out your stash?”

“Go for it,” Dina encourages her.

Ellie nods in thanks and pads over to the bookshelf, their shoulders lightly brushing up against each other as she does so. She starts looking at all of her books and one title immediately stands out and catches her attention. “No fucking way!” she exclaims loudly as she plucks it from the shelf. “No Pun Intended: Volume Tree. I can’t believe there’s a third one! Are you fucking serious?”

“Ah, so you’re familiar with Will Livingston and his hilariously terrible puns?”

Ellie grins as she walks over and takes a seat at the foot of Dina’s bed. She flips to the first page and runs her index finger down the list of jokes until she finds one she likes best. “What did the grape say when it got crushed?”

“Nothing,” Dina replies with a casual shrug, taking a seat beside her. “It just let out a little wine.”

She cackles and turns to the next page. “I don’t trust stairs.” She pauses for a dramatic effect and then continues with the punchline. “Because they are always up to something.”

The girls lose themselves in a fit of giggles.

As Ellie continues thumbing through the pages of the joke book, her smile fades slightly—memories of everything that had happened to her in the last year, everything she had been through, the people that she’d lost, it all comes flooding back to her in a huge wave that would have drowned her had Dina and her sweet, gentle voice not come to the rescue.

“El? You alright?”

Ellie turns to her. “El?”

“Yeah.” Dina’s face flushes red. “Is it okay if I call you that?”

Riley used to call her that.

When she’d still been alive.

Realizing that she was still waiting for a reply, Ellie carefully nods her head. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

“By the way,” Dina starts to say, scooting to sit a little closer to her. “About what happened back in the mess hall all those months ago when you first got here—I feel bad about it and I just wanted to apologize for staring at you the way I did. I honestly didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m sorry too. You know, for snapping at you. I got an earful from my old man about it afterwards. He gave me a lecture on manners.” Ellie chuckles and shrugs, her shoulder brushing Dina’s again. She had to resist the sudden urge to lean into her, just like the way she would always lean into Riley. “It’s just that I was so fucking sick of everyone looking at me like I came from another planet. Maria told me it was because I wasn’t like the other kids. She said I was different.” She pauses, nervously chewing her lower lip before asking, “Is that why you were staring at me? Because I’m different?”

“Yeah,” Dina admits. She notices the expression on Ellie’s face and quickly adds, “But that’s not a bad thing, El. Sometimes different is good, you know?

“Nice save, but that still doesn’t make me feel any better,” she mutters sourly.

Dina nudges her in her ribs with her elbow. “Well, would it at least make you feel better to know that I was also staring because I thought that you were cute?”

Ellie’s eyes widen as they meet Dina’s. “You did?”

“I did,” she confirms. She then corrects herself, saying, “I do.”

Dina smiles and leans in, softly brushing a kiss against her lips. It’s gentle and it’s quick but still enough to make Ellie’s heart race inside of her chest.

“Sorry,” she murmurs shyly as soon as she pulls away. She clasps her hands together nervously in her lap as she fixes her gaze on the floor.

Ellie reaches out, placing her hand on both of hers, causing the girl to look back up at her. “Don’t be. I’m sure as fuck not sorry about it at all.”

Relieved, Dina smiles again. 

Ellie squeezes her hands and goes in for a second kiss. “I should probably get home before my old man gets too worried and sends out a fucking search and rescue team for me,” she mutters against her lips, causing her to giggle. She pulls back and stands up, handing the book back to Dina who shakes her head.

“Take it. It’s all yours.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “There’s just one catch to it. I expect you to tell me a joke every single day.”

Nodding, Ellie grins and says, “Fuck yeah, I can do that.”

Several hours later into the evening, you can still feel Joel’s lips on yours—his touch lingers on your skin. It had been burned right into you and it didn’t really matter how hard you tried not to think about it because you had crossed a line that there was no coming back from. His touch, his kiss. You would never find the ability to forget how Joel had made you feel. Not that you’d wanted to forget it.

You didn’t have any regrets about what happened back in the stables. There wasn’t a single ounce of guilt or shame in your bones over it. That terrified you. You had so easily and so willingly let a man who wasn’t your husband kiss you, and you found yourself wanting and needing so much more.

You stand in the shower, allowing the ice cold water to beat down against your back and shoulders. You’d normally prefer a scalding hot shower to help ease the soreness that came after a long day of tending to the horses, but after today, what you had found yourself needing was a frigid shower to cool off.

And it had nothing to do with the staggering summer temperatures.

You shut off the water and grab a towel from a steel towel rack mounted on the wall right next to the shower. Wrapping it around yourself, you carefully step out of the shower and then reach for a second towel from the rack. You dry yourself off before padding into the bedroom where you’d laid out your clothes at the foot of the bed. You tug on a cotton gray tank top, dark denim blue jeans that you’d cut off into shorts yourself, and a pair of old, faded black low top sneakers that were extremely worn out, but much too comfortable to throw away. After haphazardly towel drying your hair, you pull it back into a ponytail.

In a futile attempt to take your mind off Joel Miller and the feeling of his lips on yours, you decided to preoccupy yourself with menial tasks around the house until it was time to start cooking dinner. The fact that you always kept the place clean—damn near spotless—made finding chores to distract you from your thoughts a much bigger challenge than you’d anticipated. God forbid that Luke ever found an unwashed dish in the sink or a speck of dust on the counter—his perfect little wife just had to keep the perfect little home. He wouldn’t allow it to be any other way.

After gathering the load of laundry that you’d had drying out on the clothesline in the backyard, you dumped it all into the large, woven hamper basket and carried it inside and upstairs to the bedroom. Within ten minutes, it had all been folded and put away. Looking for the next thing you could do to keep yourself busy, you noticed a big cardboard box sitting over in a corner of the bedroom. It’s packed with the rest of your winter clothes—it had been several weeks since you’d asked Luke to take it down to the basement and he still hadn’t done it for you.

Rolling your eyes, you pick it up, a labored grunt escaping you when you find the box to be much heavier than you’d remembered it being before. It nearly slips out of your grasp a couple of times, but somehow you manage to make it downstairs without dropping it—or falling. You carefully make your way down into the basement, the old wooden staircase creaking underneath your sneakers with each and every step. Once you’d made it down to the bottom, you haul the box over to the corner of the basement where you set it down with about half a dozen others, most of which were filled with your late father’s belongings.

Luke had been nagging you to get rid of everything to clear up space in the basement, but the thought of getting rid of your father’s things made you sick to your stomach. They were all you had left of him, after all.

As you glance around the dimly lit basement, an object nestled against the pile of cardboard boxes catches your attention. It’s a black leather guitar case. Letting out a curious hum, you drop to one knee and lay it flat on the ground, opening it only to find your father’s brown, classical Gibson he’d been gifted the year before he’d died by members of the town. He’d always been fond of music, and before the outbreak happened, he would play his guitar for you and your younger brother almost every single night, right after supper. When word spread that his illness was terminal, the kind folks of Jackson surprised him with the instrument, hoping it would bring him at least a little bit of joy in the time he had left. And it truly had. Even as a woman nearing your thirties, you’d found yourself sitting cross legged on the floor of your dad’s living room staring up at him in wonder as he would play his old favorite songs for you on the acoustic guitar—in those moments, you had felt like a child again.

You’d felt happy. Safe.

You brush the guitar strings lightly with your fingertips.

Suddenly, you remember the night of the party and how Joel had told you he enjoyed singing and playing the guitar in his life before the outbreak.

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over in your mind. The decision comes quickly, and you close the case and pick it up, ascending the basement stairs with it in hand. It’s half past five—you still had some spare time before you needed to get started on dinner. You figure you won’t be too long. Besides, Luke had mentioned to you earlier that morning before heading out that he’d be staying late at the clinic anyway—one of the women in the community had just given birth to a premature baby boy that he’d need to keep a close eye on for the next few days.

Leaving the house, you start down the road towards Joel and Ellie’s place, remembering it was the brown and green unit just a couple doors over from your own place. You make your way up the porch steps and knock lightly on the front door. You try holding the guitar case behind you, but it’s fairly obvious what you have in your hands.

As you wait, you shift nervously from foot to foot. A few more seconds pass by and Joel answers the door. His salt and pepper curls are damp, and the scent of clean soap wafts in the air around him, slowly making its way over to you. He’d traded in his dirty denim shirt from earlier for a navy blue t-shirt that fits snug over his broad chest and wide shoulders.

He says your name in surprise. “What are you doin’ here?” His dark eyes flicker to the guitar case behind your back. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Oh, just a little surprise for you and Ellie.” You toss him a cheeky, mischiveous smile. “Do you mind if I come in for a minute?”

“‘Course not.” Joel steps aside. He shuts the door behind you and beckons for you with his hand to follow him down the hallway and into the living room. For essentially being a single father, he knows how to keep a nice, clean home. Knowing Ellie, she sure as hell isn’t the one who tidied up after eight hours of mucking out horse stalls.

“Where’s Ellie?” you ask him.

“Upstairs. She just got in the shower a minute ago, but she shouldn’t be too long,” he tells you. Placing his hands on his hips, he peers curiously at you. “I’d ask what the surprise is, but just by lookin’ at the shape of that case, I think I might already have a hunch.”

“Jeez Joel, you could have at least acted surprised, you know,” you remark with a giggle. You set the case down on the antique coffee table in the middle of his living room and open it, revealing the guitar to him. “Surprise!”

Walking over to the case, Joel delicately picks up the instrument by the neck and pulls it out, giving it a once over. He lets out a long, low whistle as his other hand runs down the smooth, cherrywood body. “This is fuckin’ gorgeous,” he states. A playful look flashes in his eyes as he asks you, “Now, who did you go and steal this from, darlin’?”

“It belonged to my dad,” you reply softly with a smile. “I thought you might like to have it.”

Joel’s jaw drops in shock as he hisses, “What?”

“Hey, I wasn’t lying when I said we’d have to find you a guitar,” you laugh. “I’m a woman of my word, Miller.”

“Darlin’ I can’t accept this, there’s no fuckin’ way—” He tries handing the instrument back to you, but you take a step back and hold your hands behind your back, shaking your head. He tries again. “Listen, I appreciate the thought, but I can’t take this. It was your dad’s and I really don’t think he’d want some stranger to have it.”

“Please take it,” you request, sweetly. “It would mean a lot to me if you would. He really loved this thing and I just know he would be devastated if he knew that it’s been sitting in my basement collecting dust for the last two years.”

Joel’s momentarily rendered speechless.

“Please,” you repeat, adding an innocent bat of your eyelashes to finish winning him over. “Do it as a favor to me, Joel.”

He sighs in defeat. “Jesus, darlin’. Why’s it so fuckin’ hard to say no to you?”

You shrug, trying to mask the look of sheer triumph on your face.

He takes a closer look at the guitar. “Gibson. Y’know, I always wanted one of these back in the day, but I just could never bring myself to drop that kinda cash. I wanted real bad and now here I am with one in my hand.” His gaze meets yours and he smiles softly. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Joel. But don’t you forget that we made a deal,” you remind him as a teasing grin spreads across your lips. “You owe me and Ellie a song.”

“Speakin’ of Ellie, she’s gonna lose her mind when she sees this thing,” Joel realizes, giving it a single test strum. “I’ve really been wantin’ to teach her to play for some time now. Guess now I can.” He shoots you a look of sincere gratitude. “Thanks, peach.”

Peach. 

As you recall what had happened in Ranger’s stall earlier that day, you let out a nervous, breathless laugh. “That my new nickname or what?”

“Only when I feel like it,” Joel replies jokingly as he carefully places the guitar back in its case. “Which might be all the time.” Closing the case, he turns to you. He hesitates for a second, but then takes a careful step closer towards you. He cups your face in his hand, just like before, his eyes flitting to your parted lips. 

Lifting your hand, your fingers curl around his wrist. 

You’d do just about anything for him to kiss you again—but the both of you had almost been caught by Ellie once already and you weren’t trying to make it two for two. It takes all the strength you have inside you to drop your hand away from him and step back.

You lightly clear your throat. “Um, I should probably get home and get dinner started before it gets too late. Will you say hello to Ellie for me?”

Nodding, Joel assures you, “‘Course I will.”

He walks you to the front door. He places a hand on the small of your back, his fingers brushing against the patch of smooth skin peeking from between the waist of your shorts and the lace hem of your tank top. Once he opens the door, Joel withdraws his hand from you to be safe. He doesn’t want anyone who might have been passing by the house to see any kind of physical contact between you and him and get any ideas. “Have a good night, peach.”

You smile at him. “Have a good night, Joel.”

You return home within seconds and head straight to the kitchen. When you walk in and unexpectedly find Luke standing there leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, you stop in your tracks and let out startled little gasp. “Luke,” you say his name, hoping he can’t detect the nervousness in your voice. “You’re home early.”

He stares you down from where he’s standing. 

“Where were you?”

You can tell by the expression on his face that now isn’t the time to even think about lying to him—not unless you wanted things to go a whole lot worse for you. “I, um—I was over at Joel and Ellie’s place,” you admit to him. “I was only there for a couple of minutes, though. That’s why I left the door unlocked.”

“What were you doing over there?”

Luke sounds calm, but you know him better than that.

The clouds are coming in—the storm is brewing.

You swallow, your throat dry. “Just talking.”

“To Ellie?” Pushing away from the counter, he slowly saunters over to you with a dangerous look in his eyes. “Or to Joel?”

“Luke, please. Let’s just talk about this calmly—”

“When I ask you a question, you fucking answer it,” Luke hisses as he grabs your arm, his fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh right above your elbow.

“Luke, stop. You’re hurting me,” you manage to tell him through gritted teeth. As you squirm, his grip only tightens. “Seriously, you’re hurting me. Please, let me go.”

The panic is beginning to creep in, your body ready to go into flight mode, but you will yourself to remain grounded, to stay as calm as possible—dealing with him and his temper is frightening, but becoming emotional and showing him that you’re afraid of him always makes things so much worse in the long run.

“What the hell is going on between you two?”

“What? Nothing! I hardly know him,” you try to tell him. You let out a small, painful yelp as he continues to dig his fingers deeper into your arm. “Luke, I need you to let me go. You’re really hurting me—”

Finally, you lose your nerve and look away from him, trying to avert his furious gaze. 

Letting go of your arm, Luke reaches out and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you honestly think I’m fucking stupid? Or are you just that fucking stupid?” He spits out in a venomous tone that sends an unpleasant chill down the length of your spine. He squeezes your face, hard. “Do you really think that I didn’t notice how the two of you had come from behind the barn that night during the party? How you were out there alone together, with no one else around?” He lets out a loud, bitter laugh. “Do you really think that I didn’t notice how that man fucking looked at you even when you were at my side?”

Luke releases your face, shoving it away harshly.

Taking a moment to catch some wind, you look up at him and sputter out the most coherent explanation you can come up with “We don’t even know each other, Luke! I don’t know Joel—the only reason we talk to each other is because Ellie’s his daughter and she’s gotten really close to me since she started working down at the stables. He only talks to me when it has something to do with Ellie. His kid. That’s it.” You’re now lying straight through your teeth and all you can do is pray he won’t pick up on it. “Today was the first time I’ve talked to or even seen Joel in weeks. The night of the party, he’d told me that he wanted to teach Ellie how to play the guitar so I went over to give him dad’s old Gibson. You’ve been telling me to start getting rid of his stuff, so I started with his guitar. That’s all.”

It’s difficult to be certain whether or not he believes you. 

“Ellie,” he repeats her name with a scoff. “What, you couldn’t bear any of your own so you just go around adopting feral little strays now? Is that it?”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “Screw you, Luke.”

He smirks. “Hit a nerve, sweetheart?”

You know better than to shoot back at him.

Still, you foolishly do it anyway. 

“First of all, don’t talk about Ellie like that. In fact, I don’t ever want to hear you say her name again so keep it out of your mouth,” you warn him, your voice low, seething. “And second, don’t you pin our lack of a family all on me just to make yourself feel like a real fucking man.”

You see it coming before it even happens and brace yourself for the impact. 

The sound of his hand connecting with the side of your face bounces loudly off the kitchen walls.

“Listen and listen good because I won’t repeat myself,” Luke snarls. He backs you against the kitchen table and grabs a fistful of your hair at the nape of your neck, yanking your head back roughly as his face inches closer to yours. “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again. You are my wife—you honor and you obey me, especially in our own home. The next time you run your fucking mouth like that, you’re going to be picking pieces of your jaw up off the floor. Do you understand me?”

Chest heaving, you nod meekly.

He pulls your head back further—harder. “Say it.”

“I understand,” you squeak, momentarily feeling like he might actually snap your neck. 

“Good.” Luke releases you and stalks out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “I expect dinner to be on the table in an hour.”

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller story #fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n

[soulofapatrick]

Your World Hasn’t Stopped - Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Tommy watches as Y/N helps Joel through the panic attack of seeing someone who looks like Sarah

Words: 670+

Warning: panic attacks

Notes: This is just Joel Miller Drabble to test my ability of writing from an outsiders perspective - not my favourite but it’s a first try

Tommy’s POV

I just watch as Joel grabs his jacket and storms out, letting out a sigh as even after all these years he’s still as stubborn as he used to be which means I’m going to have to go after him or this conversation is never going to happen again. I climb to my feet, grabbing my own jacket, throwing back my whiskey and relishing in the nice burn before heading out into the winter air. 

Joel’s standing outside, leaning against one of the street lamps and eyes focused intently on a Maria’s younger sister. I know why, I had the same reaction when I met her as she’s the spitting image of Sarah. It took me weeks before I could even approach Cristina as she broke my heart every time she smiled at me and the fact I could have been a great uncle let alone an uncle. 

I go to catch up with my older brother and apologise for the way things were handled back there but Maria is grabbing my arm, nodding towards the two girls Joel arrived with, the older is running over to Joel as he’s bent slightly as if having a panic attack. Ellie, the younger just watches from a distance as Y/N reaches Joel, hands going to his face as if it’s the most natural thing. 

“Hey, hey, you need to breathe,” She’s saying, slotting herself between Joel and the street lamp so his head falls to her shoulder. She moves her hands from his face to his hair, carding them through Joel’s greying hair and she’s whispering in his ear. I’m too far away to hear it but they way Joel slowly melts into her means whatever she’s saying is working. Joel may not know it but from here it’s obvious to see he’s already found his person, he just needs to let her in as he’s still so guarded about romance from Sarah’s mother. I’m still angry at her for just up and leaving Joel and I with Sarah while she ran off to live her life. They were both young when they had Sarah so as much as I don’t blame her I would have thought she was responsible enough to stay and raise a baby. 

Joel’s suddenly standing upright and the pair are just staring at each other, Joel’s chest still heaving as he tries to regain composure and by the looks of it still on the brink of a panic attack. Something crosses Y/N’s face and she’s moving her hands back to Joel’s face before guiding his face down to meet hers. I feel like I should be looking away but I can’t help the swell in my chest because his life hasn’t stopped. He thinks it has but the way Ellie yells ‘finally’ and the way he seems to fall into this kiss shows otherwise. He has a family right here, a woman who loves him and a daughter but the stubborn fool is too closed off to see it I believe. 

“You’re okay,” Y/N breathes when they part, eyes searching. 

“You kissed me,” Joel retorts, body tensing but he’s not pulling away or making any move to shove her away. 

“I read that if you hold your breath it stops a panic attack to when I kissed you, you held your breath,” She explains and the air leaves his shoulders until she grins cheekily and adds, “Maybe you should have panic attacks more often if you’ll let me kiss you.” 

“Shut up,” He grumbles, pulling her laughing figure into a hug that has Ellie quickly running over to join in. The teenager practically jumps at them, sending the three of them to the ground with a cry of surprise and then laughter as Joel and Y/N let her join the hug that’s now in the snow. 

Maria’s squeezing my shoulder and pulling me away to let them be a family with reassuring words that for once I truly believe: 

“He’ll be okay.” 

--------

Tag List Form

#Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller fluff #Joel Miller smut #Joel miller x smut #Joel miller x y/n #Joel Miller x you #Pedro pascal #the last of us #The Last of Us 2 #the last of us fanfic #the last of us drabble #Joel Miller Drabble #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagines #the last of us fic #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller fanfiction

[peterparkersnose]

Folded

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: attack description, clicker attack, nightmares, anxiety, wound description, angst, denial of feelings, alcohol mentioned, swearing, mentions and descriptions of gun use, near death experience (if u can’t handle the game don’t read)

HAPPY LAST OF US DAY!!!

a/n ive played tlou 3x and tlou2 2x (going through my second round rn) so shut up pls i dont want any of the ‘you only like joel bc hes pedro’ fr come on ive been playing this game since i was 12. (i’m not like other girls 🥵) jackson joel just does something to me mmmm. wrote this nov 18 ‘22 saved for today

Don’t forget 9PM EST on HBO Max

summary Y/N gets attacked by a clicker during an intense time with Joel

masterlist

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read time: 12 mins 28 seconds

You could feel the air escaping your lungs at a dangerous rate. The rifle at your side slammed against your thigh as you kept running. The thick forest was just as you remembered it; wet, cold, and dark.

You were outnumbered. Mostly runners, but you spotted a few clickers. The brush on the forest floor wasn’t helping. Your heavy breathing and the sloshing of your boots against the snowy ground were making too much noise.

Where the fuck was Ellie?

3 bullets. Rifle was empty, spent that on some sharp shooting up the hill on some runners you and Ellie found in the town. How stupid were you? Those were an easy kill with a knife. But your childish games on who could get the best headshot left you empty.

Your heart dropped as the rock formation appeared. It was too high. It covered the forest like the earth split into two. That is when you came to terms, and you had to come to it quickly.

You were going to die.

Soon enough, the first runner appeared. Easy kill. One down, maybe 7 to go?

Where the fuck was Ellie?

The next one came. Two down. Three at a time now? A fucking clicker followed them? You wished the brush was tall enough to hide in.

It was useless fighting off three runners at a time with a clicker on their heels. This was it. Death.

The stone wall was cool against your backside. You hugged your knees to your chest as you pulled out your handgun.

At least the clicker would have a good meal.

Shot- one down. Shot- another. The clicker sped up. Shot, wounded but not dead. Quick slice with the knife. Dead.

The shrieking screams of the clicker engulfed your senses as the monster came running at you. It’s flailing arms we’re the last thing you were prepared to see.

You felt the hands on your shoulder. Dead hands of a monster, unspeakable to most. The hands grabbed your shoulders, but no bite came.

Just blinding white noise and a splatter on your face.

You had convinced yourself you were dead. You would never see anyone again. You had died the same death as your father years prior. The death that left you alone.

“Dad?” you managed to mutter out.

The white noise turned into ringing as two hands held your shoulder and shook you.

“Y/N? Y/N please, are you okay?”

Ellie.

“Maria I found her! Here!”

Cloth material wiped over your eyes and they opened. Ellie, splattered with blood stood in front of you with the most panicked look you had ever seen on the girls face.

“Your okay!” she yelled at you, wrapping her arms around you.

Sitting besides you two was the headless clicker that should have killed you.

***

You should be dead. Get this horrible life over with. Dead with your father, with the mother you never knew. Living a life without this disease, these creatures. Free of pain.

When you woke up in the medical wing you were pretty sure almost the whole town was there. You felt like an item on display at a museum. Looking over all the eyes, you most definitely were not searching for his. The whole reason you volunteered to go out with Ellie that day instead of Dina. And of course, he was not there. Why would he be?

“She’s awake!” someone yelled from the crowd. Every eye in the room seemed to fall on you at once. The nurse pushed past the group of people and went to your side.

“For heavens sake! Get out!” the nurse yelled to the group of onlookers. “Give her some goddamn space.” you heard from the crowd as people started to walk towards the exit.

Everyone wanted a look at the girl who survived a clicker attack.

“Hey,” she said, slowly approaching you and sitting on the chair next to your bed. “Ellie!” you exclaimed, embracing the girl tightly. “What happened?” you asked Ellie, releasing your grip on her and settling back into the bed.

The bond had been there since the day you met her. You always remember the look of the scared little girl on the back of Joel’s horse when they first entered Jackson. The bond you two had helped her grow into the person she is now. Ellie had always described you as an older sister. But Ellie was always there for you, and you for her. She was your best friend, platonic soulmate. And a damn good shot.

“I killed it,” she said bluntly. “I-I came at the right time it was about to bite you and- you should have seen it Y/N my shotgun did a number on that thing.”

“A-am I infected?” you asked, looking down at your body for the first time. Your tank top was still on, your jacket was missing. Your jeans were covered in dry blood and smelt of pine needles.

“It’s been three days. You got some pretty nasty scratches though. Sick looking if you ask me. Scars of a warrior.” she added, referring to her tattoo.

And that’s when you saw them. The claw marks were sewn shut on your left shoulder. Your eyes widened as you began to panic. You began to squirm and the pain set in.

“Hey, hey calm down. She took care of you. Best nurse in town, I made sure.” Ellie said, grabbing your good shoulder and stroking your arm to calm you down.

“The doctors said if your vitals stay stable for the next few hours you can go home. Dina and I cleaned up the place for you,” Ellie smiled, stroking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What have people been saying?” you asked, holding her hand tightly in yours. “That your a hero. You cleared out that building and we found a stash of food that’s going to last for… well, probably a good year. That’s amazing Y/N! They found baby formula for JJ- tons of it. You were right it was the old warehouse.”

A small smile rose to your lips but Ellie could tell what you really wanted to hear about.

What Joel had been saying.

And Joel hasn’t said much. Tommy had told him a brief description in passing of what happened when it was happening. He figured you were dead when they sent out a rescue wagon for you. He even watched as Maria’s horse lead in your body. Ellie was sitting with you in her arms screaming for a nurse, your whole left arm was covered in blood. What was visible of your face was white as a sheet and you weren’t moving. Joel had to silently give up the inkling of what could have been. Hell, you were the first girl who he even considered after his divorce over thirty years ago. It had to end one day and he had to silently agree with it.

“I don’t…” Ellie began, following with a sigh. “Y/N, don’t get yourself worked up over it. It’s not worth it.” Ellie began, knowing her friend too well. “Did he even come and see me?” you asked, looking to Ellie’s eyes. She couldn’t look into yours. She closed her eyes for a quick moment and shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

“Am I a fool?” you asked her. “I’m not sure,” she replied, weary.

The whole reason you went with her instead of Dina was because of Joel. You most definitely could not face him that day after the previous night.

He had knocked on your door a little after nine. He noticed a change in your demeanor today when he came in the room while teaching the some of the kids how to shoot. He wanted to make sure you were okay. Joel felt like he had some responsibility over you to make sure you were always okay because of what happened.

Joel was the one who was with your father when he died.

Sure, he was older than you. You weren’t sure exactly, but he was younger than your father by many years. The attraction from your end started when you saw him drunk off his ass during a celebration dancing with Tommy in the bar. It was the most unconventionally attractive thing, but it flipped some switch in you. When your dad died he taught you how to perfect your aim and kill efficiently. Never crossing any line because you were his dead friend’s daughter. And you were so close to Ellie. Ellie wasn’t too fond of your crush that you confided in her, but she grew to love the idea. Her family.

He came and visited you a little after nine. You were about to slip into bed before you heard the knock on your door. The night was cold and your pajama pants and thin tank top was not cutting it. You invited him inside. He had brought you a tiny gift to lift your mood; a bottle of gin. Your favorite. And you two drank at least half of that bottle of gin. You talked about everything from your father’s death to the time Tommy accidentally washed his clothes with Maria’s pink bra and still has an abundance of pink clothing to this day. The gin was most definitely speaking when you told him how you felt.

And he left.

“Let it go for now- okay? We’re gonna get you out of here and back home.” Ellie reassured you. Nodding your head, you fell back into the cold bed and closed your eyes just wishing it could all go away.

-

Home was empty as it could be. The bottle of gin sat on your coffee table. Your bed was made for the first time in years. Your work station was organized and all of your pens and art supplies were cleaned. You had remembered when Joel gave you those pens, he found them one day and thought of you. Your rifles now hung on your wall. Definitely was Dina’s idea, but you liked it. A tiny gift wrapped in a beige paper with a tiny bit of twine around it sat under your newly mounted rifles.

“Woo hoo. Christmas.” you said to yourself sarcastically. Kneeling down, you opened the package.

Bullets.

For safe keeping, ~Maria

Of course it was from Maria. She always played the mother you never had when she wanted to.

The immense feeling of sleep hit you like a brick wall. I guess being attacked by a clicker and living was a strenuous activity. All you wanted now to do was sleep. Unmaking the nicely folded sheets, you melted back into your bed. The sun was setting in your window and the horses were coming in for the day. You could hear them trotting past your window. You wondered if Joel was just feet away. It was what now… Thursday? You couldn’t remember if he still did the Thursday shift or if he switched with someone else. Who cares, sleep was creeping up slowly and the thought of Joel set you out cold.

The forest was blacker than usual. Without a doubt, you recognized where you were. Running again. All you seemed to do was run now these days. Taking a brief look back while you ran through the forest, you stopped as you realized a whole hoard of clickers were just at your heels. You didn’t have time to react. They were on you ripping your flesh off your body. The dream never seemed to end. You felt each bite and tear of your flesh until-

“Y/N!” Maria screamed, shaking you awake and still being mindful of your wound. “Fuck!” you screamed, sobbing into her arms. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” you continued, squirming in bed as she held you.

Your door was wide open and it was now pitch black out. The screams alerted security, and they called for a search of the town. Tommy quickly found the source of the screams and sent Maria in.

Standing outside your door was Tommy, peering in on the sight of his wife with you.

“Gather people. She needs to be watched.” Maria commanded Tommy as she held your shaking body. Too many people had left their homes now to look at the scene and disrupted the peaceful night.

-

Ellie sat with your head in her lap, slowly stroking your hair trying to get you to fall asleep. “Don’t worry. Nobody in this town will let anything happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The whole previous night you didn’t sleep. You stared at your wall and just thought. And that whole day you delved yourself in drawings you hadn’t finished or poems you had the inspiration for. Took a shower. You looked through your closet and picked out a fresh outfit. You tried all the little things that usually worked on your old self, but your old self was gone.

That bottle of gin sat on your coffee table and haunted you throughout the day as well. You didn’t have the heart to throw it away, or the mindset to drink it. So there it sat. Pitiful.

You were at a loss for words. No words could describe the immense amount of pain re living that memory caused last night.

Ellie began to hum a tune. It was sweet and reminded you of something innocent. Your eyes began to get heavy. “You ready?” she asked, fluffing up your pillow. Reluctantly, you shook your head yes.

The absolute end was there and tiredness finally seeped in. Distraught sleep left and peaceful sleep took its place.

Ellie dimmed your lamp and smoothed the covers on your bed. It reminded you of the time you took care of Ellie years ago when she was sick. “Sweet dreams,” she said, giving your forehead a brief kiss.

Mumbling was heard outside your door, but you didn’t care.

The field was beautiful. Finally, peace. The flowers stemmed beautifully and the sun shown down on your face. Your hands ran through the fresh green grass. Laying in the rays, you suddenly felt the field get smaller. Sitting up, you realized the sun had disappeared and the field was getting smaller and smaller by the second. The sudden edge of a forest was getting closer and closer. And then with one blink you were back. The forest erected around you. You were back.

“No, no…” he heard from your house. Joel’s interest peaked from the grounds left in his coffee mug to the silent struggles in your bedroom. He lifted himself off your porch chair and looked through your window. You were writhing in bed.

“Ellie!” you let out the first yell. It was so loud that it startled Joel to his core and began a flight of panic. Joel didn’t hesitate to burst your door open. “Ellie don’t leave!” you yelled again.

“Hey,” he said softly, patting your shoulder. A loud groan of pain came from your lips. Joel’s heart sank as the feelings on guilt he felt for letting you go on patrol that day set in once again.

“Y/N!” he whisper yelled, yanking your body over to face him. Your eyes shot open. Ripped from the dream into another one.

You looked him up and down. This wasn’t real. It was another dream. Tears welled up in your eyes as you shut them tight, praying you would wake up somewhere else.

“It was a bad dream,” he whispered, resting his hand on your thigh. His thumb patiently rubbed your thigh as your breathing sped up. Your legs matched up perfectly, knees facing him. Your face was buried in your hands that were now grasping at your eyes.

“Stop it,” Joel hissed, grabbing your manic hands tightly. “This isn’t real,” you cried out, sobs following it.

His heart seemed to break into a million pieces when you started to full on cry. The last time he dealt with a crying girl it was Ellie. Wait- no, maybe it was Sarah. He honestly wasn’t sure, but it was most definitely years ago.

“Everything is alright. I know how it is. I-I didn’t sleep for a few days after my first clicker encounter. Those things are nasty fuckers.” he said, his hand returning to your thigh trying to soothe you. He was clueless on what he was supposed to do.

At this point, you realized you weren’t dreaming. He was here. His hand was on your thigh. He was sitting on your bed. You were in a tank top that cut a little too low for your liking.

Your teary eyes looked up and met his. He hadn’t moved his gaze off of your face. He gave you a soft reassuring smile.

Joel cursed himself for letting his feelings creep back in. This was wrong anyways, he felt sick any time he thought about you. The pit of his stomach couldn’t handle it much more, he had pretty much forgotten about you (as much as he would like to admit). But when Tommy assigned him second watch of you that night, he just knew it had trouble written all over it.

“Go back to sleep now. Pretty girls need their beauty sleep.” he said, instantly regretting it.

That line worked on Sarah, but in a whole different way with a much different meaning. He wanted to suck back in the words as fast as he said them.

Letting a tense breathe go, he steadied himself on your bed frame and made his way to the door.

He had made his way to the door as you spoke.

“Joel?”

His hand stopped his motion as it rested on the top of your door frame.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning around.

“W-will you stay? Just for a little bit.” you said, stuttering as you realized how large his body was compared to your door.

He paused. “I suppose.”

You moved your legs so he would have enough room to sit next to you. You heard his knee crack as he sat down on the low rise bed. His legs sat upward as he leant a hand behind your legs to steady himself.

“I’m sorry.” you said. It had to be said, what better time than now? “I don’t want to hear your apologies.” he huffed. “It was inappropriate.” you spit out again. “No- Y/N, stop. Please.” he asked. “You need to get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep. Every time I sleep I go… back there. I can’t.” you whimpered. He sighed, groaning and wiping his brow.

“What would you like me to do about it? I can’t do anything.”

“Stay.”

Joel was left confused on how your calmness met his angry tone. He knew you well, he was surprised you weren’t screaming in his face. You didn’t take shit. You were being patient for once in your life.

Oh, how you’ve changed since the attack.

“I’m here. What more do you want from me?” he asked. His tone had extra edge of anger to it that was fueled with a faint passion.

In the darkness, you reached for his hand. It was coarse and dry, with many various scars and callouses you could feel just with a slight touch. He instinctively pulled back a bit, but gave in within the second. Wrapping your fingers with his, you places his hand back on your thigh.

“Y/N I-”

“The thing you were doing before on my leg. It was nice.”

“Oh,” he said, defeating the original thought from his head. His thumb began slowly moving in circles once again.

You were showing him what you needed.

He watched as your sad face closed your eyes and sighed. You felt safe for the first time in days.

Joel felt the pit in his stomach widen and fully consume him. The girl who practically raised Ellie from when she arrived; his dead friend’s daughter; one of the best damn killers in all of Jackson; Y/N. God, he was in so much trouble with his morals.

“I’m too far deep in this shit,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him. “What?” you asked.

“I can’t…” he said, beginning to shake his knee up and down. “What?” repeated yourself in a confused tone.

His strong body swept over yours. He grabbed your shoulder ever so softly and perched you in his arms. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

No initiative had to be made besides the movement of your lips against his. Your hand wrapped itself in his hair, playing softly as he held your back strongly. A slight moan came from his lips that he instantly regretted when you accidentally tugged ever so slightly on his graying strands of hair. For the split second that you two separated gasping for air, he pulled you tighter.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been fighting this,” he whispered on your lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you sighed, staring back at his scruffy face.

Joel came back to his senses. He felt different. He could never go back to the same person he was a minute ago. His world revolved around something new. No more obsessing over patrol and how to appease Tommy. No more worrying over how Ellie could handle herself. No more worrying about his aching joints and the fear of getting older. Something new became the center of his universe. He had folded.

The girl laying in his arms who now rested her head against his chest.

“You really need sleep darlin’,” he sighed. You sighed in resistance.

“You want me to stay?” he asked, looking down at your exhausted face.

“Please.”

You moved over in your bed as he made himself comfortable. Joel never realized how much larger he was than you until he slept with you in his arms.

You layed on his chest as one arm wrapped around your shoulders. His hand rested comfortably on your shoulder.

“Thank you.” you whispered. He placed a small kiss on your head. Your arms wrapped around your stomach, making yourself more comfortable in his embrace. The only sound in the room was your soft breathing.

“Go to sleep now. Your safe with me, my sweet girl.”

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @jmillerswife

#peterparkersnose #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #joel miller one shot #joel miller headcanon #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller the last of us fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal one shot

[tiredly101]

Devilish handsome singer part 4

Pairing: Mafia leader!Waly Darling x Mafia leader singer!Male reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7,

Summary: Wally decides to go visit M/n at the wrong time and instead falls more in love while he is punishing a traitor.

Illustrated Mafia Au, picture done by @clownsuu

Extras: wrote a little bit in Spanish but do use translation if you don't understand, some gore mentions and Mario and Gepeto ain't happening because I live Gepeto to much to leave him be with Mario- you'll see Gepeto's future boy in the next part!

Wally hasn't been able to get M/n out of his head since that talk they had at his house when he broke in to see him but M/n seemed more amused than anything which is a good sign... Right?

"Howdy, I need you to take me to Gepeto's...," said Wally and Howdy nodded not daring to question it. As they were driving to their destination Wally's mind drifted back to how their conversation finished.

"Well Mr. Darling I believe you should go porque aunque seas una muy atractiva visual I see no need for you to stay longer," said M/n making Wally scrunch his face in confusion.

"I don't know spanish," said Wally making M/n laugh softly while opening the door and when Wally stepped outside M/n said a soft "letting a ""I know" fly around the air before closing the door of his house leaving Wally puzzled.

"Sir, we are here, should I keep the car running?," Said Howdy snapping Wally out of his thoughts before nodding while getting out the car. He entered the bar to see M/n sitting in a table wearing some black dress pants with a navy blue silk shirt that was tight on his figure. All the staff was standing around him in a circle and he laughed.

"Mario, Mario, Mario... I remember when I picked you off the street, made you part of this family and I believe everyone remembers what happened to Selene, right? Giselle can you please remind Mr. Genapetti what happened to Maria since he doesn't seem to remember?," Said M/n with a kind voice but his eyes held no kindness in fact his eyes didn't show any emotion but rage in them. Giselle Shaked like a leaf but took a deep breath before talking.

"You ripped out her vocal cords and after a week you decided to hang her on the street lamp as an example for us," said Giselle shakily making M/n clap his hands in a "proud" way as if she had passed a test.

"Good memory Giselle, I indeed did that to stupid Selene! Now Mario, do you think you deserve such punishment for giving Mr. Darling my address and for trying to sell me to multiple businesses partners?," Asked M/n while lifting with his shoe Mario face that had multiple tears running down it. Mario softly said "give me one more chance... I won't let you down again" which made M/n chuckle before kicking Mario's face.

"Your lucky that you are dating Slevia because she is the only reason why I'm giving you a second chance... don't become a Selene, understood Mr. Genapetti?," Said M/n making Mario scramble to his feet towards Gepeto who hugged him. Wally was still at the entrance with a cherry red color in his cheeks at the scene he had witnessed, Wally got off the bar and went back to his car which made Howdy drive away from the bar.

Part 5? Will be made so let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tag list:

@darling-w @mythjustiice @lotusflowerexe @whynot5243 @vampyrefay @frindtheshapeshifter405 @unluckyredflames @elegantkidfansoul @fluffyart5000 @totofranken @sjalyne @thezhephir @mythjustiice @waywardstardustcollector @thezhephir

#welcome home #wally darling x reader #wally darling x male reader #Tiredly Jackie writes #I think this deserves it's own tag soooo #Devilish handsome singer fic #tw; slight gore

[malavera]

18+ From the Window Series: From the Kitchen — Tom Cruise

↳ You’re the young hot neighbor who’s staying with your Aunt for the whole Summer and your Aunt happens to be Tom Cruise’s neighbor and they’re very good friends. You being 26 and still living the life to the fullest, of course you gotta add more spices in life—By being the naughty neighbor towards her Aunt’s 59 year’s old neighbor.

summary: you and your aunt visited Tom on his day off.

warnings: 18+, the big age gap, very kinky, the use of a word ‘kitten’, tom cruise being the sigma person as he is, oral (m receiving), fingerfucking, p in v from the back, fucking on the counter, creampie, basically this part is smut so just brace yourself – minors dni! cuz i suck at warnings.

tagging: @tomsf18 @deanscroissant @moondustfairies @helloitstsyu @call-sign-shark @love2write2626 @back-tooo-black

check out the series!

The breezy Sunday morning made Tom wanted to stay in. He loves enjoying a one breezy day engulfed in the warmth of his home. Other than that, he shouldn't be back on the set in 2 days, might as well spend the time relaxing or do some chores around the house. Despite being Hollywood Royalty, when he gets a chance for a mini break, he'd love to have the house all to himself and excuse his staff at home to go home. He loves doing things by himself, though he needs them around when he's not around to take care of the house.

Coffee is the law. Starting your day without a cup of coffee would be something that Tom believes it’s the most important beverage, aside from water, to start the day. Grabbing the pot to pour the black liquid to his cup, his eyes never leaving his iPad screen flipping through the digital pages. This is one of the routines that Tom does in the morning to keep himself aligned with his ‘chakra’. Tom snorted to himself when he reads a headline of an article that says, Why men over 40’s should not be looking for women under 30’s.

He poured a milk to his cup before stirring the liquid to mix them together. His thumb scrolls down through the article, aiming to read the point. Overall, it says that it’s like watching a 25 year old man being in a relationship with a 15 year old girl. He shrugged to himself, nodding to the point as well as bringing the cup to his mouth.

He agrees.

He couldn’t imagine himself dating a woman who’s not in their 30’s especially in his age. But, a certain someone could make an exception to that article. His whole perspective has gone away once he opens his front door to his neighbor with her young niece, carrying a plate of cookies. Maria greets him with a good morning with a cheery tone laced in her voice, said ‘We never seen you leaving the house and we thought why not share you these cookies that we’ve baked.’

Tom’s lips slightly parted, his eyes were set behind the lovely madam, who’s carrying the plate of cookies, on her particularly, beautiful, hot, young niece who gave him a show… 2 days ago. The corner of her lips pulled into a smirk, her hairs tucked behind her ears, she’s wearing a sundress that ends on her mid thighs despite the breezy weather. Tom snapped back to reality, shifting his attention to Maria.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you. Would you like to come in?” With his 1 billion dollar smile, who wouldn’t accept the sweet gesture. They both stepped in as Tom leads them towards the living room.

“Oh yes! I don’t think I’ve introduced you to my niece… This is, Y/N. She’s staying for the whole summer to help me out with my clothing-line business.”

“I see.” Tom nodded with a teethed smile.

“Show your manners, girl! You’re not 17 anymore. Why should I keep doing this to you?” Maria hissed to her niece’s ears, nothing but a grin plastered on her face.

“You have a lovely home, mister Cruise.”

His heart seemed to skipped a beat when he heard you spoke. With a pursed lips, his smile never leaving his face as he nods a long. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“How was Heather?”

Heather? Who’s Heather? The charmer has left the room. You couldn’t help but become curious to this Heather, is she an important person in his life? Is he seeing someone? You know you have no right to pry, but you just can’t imagine walking into your bedroom looking at your window to find this Heather girl bouncing on top of what’s yours. Your aunt and Tom chatted and laughed here and there for a good 5 minutes before her phone rang as she excused herself out to take the phone call, leaving both of you alone.

“A glass of milk would go with the cookies.” The charmer has returned. Tom’s shoulders tensed a little when he heard you spoke. He watched you push yourself off from his leathered sofa before you bend, a little too much just to grab the plate of cookies from the coffee table, exposing your cleavage.

“I’m gonna warm these up, would you mind showing the Kitchen, mister Cruise?” Your angelic voice seemed to have almost put Tom in a trance. He cleared his throat before he opens his mouth to navigate you through his house. Once you leave the room, your Aunt came back.

“What is she doing?”

“She’s helping me heat up those cookies which, thank you again by the way.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem. Y/N woke up early today, I don’t know if the girl even sleeps but I woke up to the smell of freshly baked cookies. Those are really good, you should definitely try it later by the way, and oh.. She then said she wanted to share those with you but she’s too shy to come over and knock on your door,” Maria chuckled. “So, she asked me to come with her.”

Shy? Tom doesn’t think that it’s the suitable word coming out from you. He doesn’t think that the action that you just pulled, 2 days ago, for him was you being Shy. Tom chuckles to himself, he remembered every detail. He remembered your smooth legs, your rounded ass, your pink plump lips. Best believe, he planned on doing something about what you pulled. But, he stopped himself realizing that he doesn’t know about this young neighbor. Especially, he doesn’t know about her age.

“Oh, Tom? Would you tell Y/N that I’m leaving to run an errand? Tell her to clean up the kitchen later too. I really need to go.”

“It’s no problem, Maria.”

You’ve been in his kitchen for such a long time when Tom came back to the living room. A shattered sound he could heard from the living room and a grunt coming out from your mouth. Tom hurried off towards his Kitchen but forced himself to stop once he sees you bend down on your knees against the tiled floor.

Your ass is on display to him…

No panties.

It was indeed an accident—you accidentally elbowed the bottle of milk which caused it to fall down to the floor. The bottle shattered, some of the milk had splattered to your legs before you got down on your knees trying to wipe them clean using the towel from the stove. You turned your head to your shoulder to find Tom frozen, watching the whole thing.

“I’m so sorry, mister Cruise! It was an accident, I-” You couldn’t finish your sentence before Tom has got you back on your feet as he tugs at your arm. You shrieked when he pushed you against the counter bending your over a little bit.

“What about that stunt you pulled 2 days ago? Was that an accident too?” Tom hissed in your ear, you whimpered but you smirked. Grinding your ass against his front, Tom grunted looking down watching you rubbing your ass like a dog.

Release the girl, Tom.

She’s just a kid, but such a slut—she needs to be punished for what she has done.

She needs to be punished right? What did she do? She spilled your bottle of milk that you could easily get another 5 bottles if you want to. Let her go.

Tom chose to ignore his conscience. His arm circled to wrap around your front, before pulling it down towards your heat. His fingertips grazed against your pussy folds before playing with your clit, his middle finger rubs up and down separating your pussy folds before he went down to tease your hole, soaking his finger.

“You want this, right?” It was a rhetorical question before he shoved one finger inside your cunt, earning a loud gasp. Tom placed his face on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent through your soft hair. You smell so sweet, and a little hint of apple.

“I know you’ve always wanted this, Kitten.” He thrusts his finger in and out of your cunt, he enjoys listening to your little moans and grunts before he adds another finger.

He curls them inside you resulting a loud moan from you, “Mmhh… Yes, sir.” He takes it that you seemed to enjoy it more like that so he kept doing it. His cock grew hard by each seconds through your moans before he decides to undo his pants using one hand. He groaned in relief once his pants are on the floor, his cock slapping against his abdomen before he spits on his hand and give himself a couple of pumps.

He took out his fingers from your cunt, pushing you more to bend over the counter, placing his hands on your hips before he guides his cock towards your glistening entrance.

“I’m gonna fuck this pussy until I cum good.” Tom hissed in your ear before he wraps his hands around your throat and shoved his cock into your cunt. You gasped a choked moan out from your lips, finally living out your dream, feeling his thick cock inside your warm cunt.

A satisfied smile splattered on your face, your eyes rolled back as you listen to him grunt in your ears. He’s not going slow on you, he roughly drills his cock in your pussy sending you to oblivion, literally.

“Tom! I’m just dropping the keys for Y/N.” You shrieked and your eyes widened when you hear your aunt’s heels clicking against the floor in the living room. Tom’s hand went to clasp your mouth, his hips never stop thrusting upwards, almost made you stand on your tippy toes.

“Okay! I’ll let her know.” Tom hollered, pushing himself off from your back to grab your hips. When he aimed his hips at a certain angle, he found the G-spot resulting a muffled shrieked from you.

“Tom, is everything okay?” Tom clasped your mouth, hard.

“Yes, Maria! Everything is fine-” Tom couldn’t finish his sentence when he felt your pussy clenched on his cock.

“Okay, I’m leaving now!”

Tom grunted in relief before he proceed his action, bringing himself to his own release. “Listen up you slut! I’m gonna cum in this pussy, hard and she’s going to swallow everything. Not even a drop. You hear me?” Tom hissed.

“Y-yes.. Sir!” You whimpered.

“Mmh.. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum kitten.. Fuck!” He pressed his hips feeling himself releasing his load to your cunt, giving himself another thrust—his thighs vibrated from the sensation.

“Argh! Fuckkk…” Tom panted, soon he slowly pull out his softening cock. His hand went to cover your pussy by instinct, thinking his cum could be dropping out of it.

Your body feels weak but you pushed yourself off from the counter either way, turning your body to him. A sly smirk on your face before you grab a cookie from the plate. Tom watches as you took a bite from the cookie, your thumb went up to graze the corner of your lips before you chew.

“Have I lived out your fantasy too, Sir?”

#tom cruise #tom cruise fic #tom cruise smut #tom cruise x reader #tom cruise imagines #tom cruise imagine #tom cruise dirty imagine #tom cruise dirty imagines #tom cruise x female reader

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 10: January, 1900 (Continued)

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

Tag: @photo1030

2,304 Words (AO3 Link)

Arthur was left stewing in it, his conflicting feelings. Tidying up the house, working in the stables, even taking a damn nap. He couldn’t get it out of his head, the way the Sheriff spoke about Ana, and how it reared a possessiveness of her he wasn’t proud of. All because she told him she still loved him. In hindsight he saw it in the things she did for him in the past. She had patched up his wounds, worried about his safety and if he would even come back from his dangerous adventures. She had been the one who washed and mended his clothes, who kept him company at night. He was just blind and too much of a coward to let himself keep it in the moment.

Mary was the one Arthur had intended to marry, but Ana was the closest thing he had came to a wife. It felt odd to realize, but it was completely true. That led Arthur to wonder something. How much did he mix Mary and Ana Maria in his memories? Who did he really miss the most? He still did love Mary as well, but it started to seem different than it used to. He did fail her, like every time before, and she was right to want to move on from him. He said a silent prayer, a very rare action, that wherever Mary went after the last letter she sent to him that she was happy. He hoped she would find someone who is honest and good to her as she deserved. It didn’t hurt anymore that it wasn’t going to be him who provided it. A lot of weight of was lifted off his shoulders.

And then there was still Ana. Arthur wanted to love, to be loved, but part of himself wanted to convince her he wasn’t worth it no matter how badly he needed or desired it. He was incapable of seeing what she saw in him. He wished so desperately he could see the good in himself everyone else seemed to think was there. He couldn’t get over the thought he was never worthy of it. After everything he’d done, surely there had to be some punishment. That all went away when he looked at her, when he thought about her. He couldn’t bring himself to break her heart again. That was an even worse sin to him than every murder and robbery he ever committed.

Self doubt and hatred aside, Arthur got what he wanted. He was a father, bumbling and lost about it like every man probably was. He had a woman who loved him. The question was how to hold onto it instead of running away.

“For now I am a prisoner… in Still-water Jail I lie…” Arthur sang quietly to himself riding on Delfina, humming the parts he had forgotten, “For which I will be sorry… Til my dyin’ day…”

By the time he got to the school the children had already been let out. He knew something was wrong when the sounds of the children weren’t the usual ones they tended to have as he he drew nearer. Some were scared, some excited, but all crowded around the commotion in the front yard. Surrounded by their peers was Arthur Francisco and an older boy circling each other before taking swings like they were grown men. The older boy was taller and looked like he did a lot of farm work. Arthur Francisco, impressively, was able to hold his own against him.

Perhaps he should have let them fight it out, but he couldn’t stand the sight of poor Miss Svensson doing everything she could to separate them. She had taken hard tumble when the older boy got Arthur Francisco on the ground, striking him in the stomach. He didn’t get very many in, Arthur Francisco got the upper hand and grabbed him tightly around the neck and using his knees to roll on top of him. He kept one hand there, pummeling the boy with his other fist. He just kept punching him in the face over and over.

Everything happened so fast Arthur hadn’t fully registered what was happening when he jumped off Delfina and ran to them. He snatched Arthur Francisco from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and yanking him away as the child flailed against him.

“DON’T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT AGAIN, MILLER!” Arthur Francisco hissed at his enemy, “IF YOU DO I SWEAR I’LL KILL YOU!”

He could feel the rage emanating from him, his blue eyes burned like hellfire glaring at the older boy lying before him. Arthur finally and fully saw what Ana had repeatedly told him about their boy: himself. It was in that unmerciful and righteous anger.

“Like hell you will boy!” Arthur objected, putting Arthur Francisco firmly on his feet and grasping him hard on the shoulders, “You don’t talk to no one like that! You hear me?!”

The emotion hearing Arthur Francisco utter those words matched the boy’s own. The audience grew quiet and quickly dispersed, leaving only them, Miss Svensson who was standing and dusting herself off, and the Miller boy sitting defeated on bloody snow.

Arthur spun around, focusing some of his ire to him, “And you, what’s your excuse?! Ain’t you a little too old for this bullshit?!”

Miss Svensson shook her head and helped the Miller boy to his feet, “This happens frequently with Zachariah, I am afraid. Another letter for me to write now.”

“Well, don’t worry about this one.” Arthur huffed, gesturing to Arthur Francisco, “I’ll tell his mama and deal with what I can in the meantime.”

Miss Svensson took the Miller boy inside the school to tend to just injuries.

“What the hell happened anyway?” Arthur asked Arthur Francisco. It had to happen on his watch. As if the day hadn’t dragged on enough. He took a bandana out of his pocket, softly wiping Arthur Francisco’s face to see the damage. His lip was split and bleeding, bruises were already appearing around his left eye and jaw. Arthur had him open his mouth. No teeth where chipped, broken, or missing. He carefully prodded his stomach, checking for any signs of internal injury. The boy only told him it was sore and not painful. That too would be bruised for a while.

Arthur Francisco sighed, “Well… Jane was talking to some of the girls about the new baby. He went up to her and started asking her… not very nice things.”

Arthur nodded, “I can understand wantin’ to defend a girl, but don’t go around threatenin’. Because there comes a time where somebody takes you up on it, and you either become a coward or a killer. Or… you’re the one that gets killed. Me and your mama seen too many men go to an early grave for it. We want better for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I just… Don’t understand why people are so hateful just because someone exists.”

Arthur put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “There’s a lot of them out there, I fear. You just got to be better than they are.”

Arthur gathered their horses. He put Arthur Francisco onto Josefina and tied her reins to the horn of Delfina’s saddle. He led them through town, stopping at the butcher’s to buy some steaks for dinner before setting off home. He kept a close eye on the boy, but besides the darkening contusions on his face he didn’t show any signs of anything else.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened to me…” Arthur Francisco calmly protested, holding the steaks while Arthur put the horses in the stable by himself.

“Yeah, I know, but I want to make sure.” Arthur replied, “If something happened, your mama wouldn’t be afraid to beat me senseless. Now, go inside and put those in the ice box. I’m going to go beck of Mrs. O’Hogan.”

Approaching it, on the outside the O’Hogan’s gingerbread styled home was silent. Once he was at the front door, Arthur could hear the chaos that 5 children in one place could bring. He took off one of his gloves and knocked loudly so it could be heard over the commotion. Mr. O’Hogan stepped out, disheveled and with a big smile on his face.

“I hope we got some good news there!” Arthur greeted.

Mr. O’Hogan clasped him tightly on the shoulder, “We sure fuckin’ do! Little girl, 6 pounds! Both o’ ‘em as healthy as can be! Sent a cable ta the archdiocese in Saint Denis, see if we can get a priest ta come up an’ baptize her.”

O’Hogan let Arthur go, pulling a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lighting it with a match, “So, how about that row Little Arthur had? Heard he put a hell o’ a hurt on that Miller boy.”

“He’s pretty banged up his damn self. I have no idea how I’m going to tell Anie.” Arthur replied, “I just wanted to make sure everything went well with your wife and check how your daughter is doin’. That boy said some nasty things to her I was told.”

“Nothin’ about them Millers ain’t nasty!” O’Hogan replied, “Getting’ tired o’ it. I’m gonna start goin’ with ‘em ta school an’ back.”

“As long as you let our ladies come back.” Arthur said with a hint of humor, “Anyway, you have a good night, Owen. Glad you finally got your third girl! Let our ladies come home soon!”

Making dinner was a lot easier. Arthur knew how to cook a slab of meat, not in a pan but all it did was take slightly longer than holding it over a fire. The boy had enough experience in the kitchen to heat up a can of carrots. They kept a plate in the warming box for Ana. After cleaning up they spent time on the living room floor, drawing animals with the watercolors Arthur Francisco was given for Christmas. Arthur would sketch them out with a pencil, and the boy would paint them. Arthur shared the least traumatic stories about the things he saw over the years. They spent a lot of time talking.

Arthur got him ready for bed on time. He patted the boy lightly on the head, “Your mama should be home soon. She’ll probably check up on you because… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, she usually does.” Arthur Francisco said, “Good night, Arthur.”

Arthur got up and went to the door, “Good night, son.”

[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]-----[*]

Ana closed the door quietly. She took off her jacket and shoes. Her hands went to her head as she tip toed into the kitchen, pulling out every pin until her hair was free. She was glad everything went well, and that it was over for another two or three years. The O’Hogans made it seem like this would be their last. With a couple like that, she wasn’t sure how long that vow would last.

Maybe if she had something like that, Ana might feel the same about it.

The counter was a note on a piece of torn paper. In Arthur’s fine handwriting was a line about leaving a plate from dinner for her. She hovered her hand over the stove. It was still quite hot. She opened the warming box to find it nearly as fresh as it was from the evening. He was always good when cooking a piece of meat.

She put it on the table, poured a glass of gin, and sat down to enjoy it. Arthur’s door creaked open. He stepped out and sat next to her.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.” Ana said.

Arthur shook his head, “No. I was actually up waitin’ for you. How’d everythin’ go?”

“Good! Of course, there’s always that time when things can be a little risky, but I think Rosaline and the baby will be just fine. How did it go with you and Arthur Francisco?”

“It went well… For the most part…” Arthur went quiet for a moment, “The boy got into a fight when school let out.”

Ana rolled her eyes, “I heard Stephen and Jane tell their father about it. How bad are his wounds this time?”

“He’s pretty banged up. He did worse to that Miller boy.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ana sighed, “Something has to be done about them, before things get worse. I have an idea. Maybe the father will consider it, if you’ll accompany me tomorrow.”

“I sure will. I’d like to see this hated man.”

After Ana ate she went up the stairs with Arthur following behind. She entered Arthur Francisco’s bedroom. The boy was sleeping soundly when she sat down at the edge of his bed, stroking his hair and scanning the bruises on his face. She sighed again and tucked his covers around him, kissing him on the temple before leaving.

Arthur waited for her in the hall. She patted him on the back, “Thank you for everything you did today. I imagine it wasn’t easy for you.”

He saw his chance. Before he his doubts got the better of him, he wrapped his arm around Ana’s waist and drew her to him. She let out a quiet yelp in surprise, but she didn’t pull away. He held her close to his body, her head coming to rest on his chest. He forgot how small she was compared to him, how wonderful it felt to have her pressed against him protectively in his arms. Her warmth filled a hole deep within his heart, one that had grown so accustomed to pain it almost burned. He never thought he’d feel like that again, where his heart raced, his face burned, his hands shook.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 posting #rdr #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 community #red dead 2 #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan rdr2

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tags @demandthedoodles and @greypetrel! I've mostly been fiddling with the fic I started posting on AO3, but here is some of another piece I've been working on as well. It's partially inspired by this poem:

I just love the contrast between all those long, hesitating lines and the abruptness of "Stand further off then! Go."

So, in relation to that, here is the precursor to the biggest fight Maria and Fenris ever have (this is...roughly three weeks after the Act 2 romance scene):

“You have a kind heart,” Hawke’s father had told her often when she was young.  It had usually been followed by a crucial word: but.   You have a kind heart—but the rabbit is beyond saving, but a kind heart will not help you when a demon comes to call, but you should let the boy fight if he wants to fight. Sometimes, the words were slightly different. Sometimes, Malcolm said instead, “Mijita, for the Maker’s sake, if you bring me to one more felled bridge I am leaving you to walk home alone,” or “Maria, you should not have shocked him back to life. I told you, did I not, what it means to be a mage? We are leaving; pack your bags.” But what he always, always meant to say was: you have a kind heart, but—

Malcolm was the first, but he wasn’t the last.  “I don’t know why you bother, Hawke,” Varric said often, feet propped on his table, shaking his head. “Doesn’t make a lick of sense to me.” “I’ve no idea what you see in him,” Anders had said just a few weeks, glaring after Sebastian as he walked away. “He is beyond helping.”  “I will never understand why you let that man speak to you so,” Aveline had said more than once, scowling over something Anders had said.  Or— “you do know that the elf is like an angsty porcupine, right?”  Sometimes, she felt like snapping in return: there is no point. I don’t know why I bother, either. But—there was no point in snapping, either, was there? They didn’t really want to know why.  But Merrill—Merrill wanted to know why. Sometimes, Merrill didn’t even add the “but.” Sometimes, she just told Hawke that she was kind, no qualifiers. That was why Maria liked to spend time with her: Merrill didn’t waste time on prevarications like that. You were who you were, for good or ill, and she seemed to see little point in chiding one to change.  Merrill was her friend; Hawke might even have been tempted to call Merrill her dearest friend, if she’d ever felt inclined to bestow such a distinction. It hurt her to see Merrill hurt, to hear the tears in her voice as they trudged back up through the bowels of the mountain.  “Pol,” she said somewhere behind Hawke, “what was he thinking? He acted like I was a monster.”  “His death isn’t your fault,” Hawke wanted to say, but Fenris spoke first.  “You are a monster.”  Hawke stopped dead, turning on her heel to look at them. Fenris was not looking at her; he was looking at Merrill, disgust plain on his face. Isabela stared at him, moving to set a hand on Merrill’s shoulder. “You aren’t helping,” the pirate told him.  Tears had long since begun to fall down Merrill’s cheeks, darkening the collar of her dress, and when Isabela drew her closer more of them fell from her chin to the green fabric below.  “Good,” Fenris snapped. He opened his mouth to say more, but glanced at Hawke and shut it again.  You are a monster.  Hawke could not say if she was angrier for Merrill or herself. No—she couldn’t say what she was feeling at all, really. Fenris looked at her, his mouth pressed into a narrow line, but at last he turned away.  “Come on,” Hawke told Merrill, reaching for the elbow Isabela wasn’t holding. “Let’s get us out of these caves, alright? Nothing is ever helped by the addition of giant spiders.” Merrill nodded, her hands steady despite her tears, and allowed herself to be led from the caves.  You are a monster. 

Tagging: @star--nymph @ndostairlyrium @heniareth @daggerbean @alta-et-astra @palipunk @dungeons-and-dragon-age @idolsgf

#maria hawke #shivunin scrivening #wip wednesday #leading up to my favorite thing which is #two people who are arguing vehemently about something but clearly both of them are avoiding talking about something else #ugh this poem though #i've been reading the other sonnets from the portuguese poems while i've been looking for epigrams and #man. this just kills me. a poem to be read through gritted teeth

[tc-doherty]

Book One | Chapter Eight

I do know what I said last time, but in the end I decided it was too much work so I will continue posting the chapters here. I will still be running a mailing list if you would like the chapters to be emailed to you please send me an ask with your email address. I will not be answering them publicly, it's only for my records.

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tag list: @bloodlessheirbyjacques @magefaery @did-i-do-this-write @marrowwife @muddshadow @outpost51 @full-on-sam @bluberimufim @unclear-contributions @talesfromtheunknowable @guessillcallitart @flowerprose

(Ask to be added or removed)

Patrice stopped speaking just in time to see the winner of that round, an unassuming knight named Eddard. Two new knights took their places. Maria pointed to the closest of them.

"That's Dame Errys," she said. "Her mother is the queen's sister, but she was disowned for eloping with an artist. They're still considered nobles, technically, but this is the first year that Dame Errys has been allowed to compete."

Patrice had seen the female knight fight the day before, but not had not seen her without a helmet. She alone had always entered the field fully armored. Now that Patrice saw her like this, she finally understood the difference between handsome and beautiful.

So far, most humans looked more similar than different, but Errys stood out. Even under armor and padding she seemed slender and delicate, with perfectly symmetrical features. Blonde hair so pale as to appear silver had been braided in a crowd around her head. Her horse was a pale palomino who matched her knight perfectly. Errys's colors of blue and silver only emphasized her ethereal beauty.

She looked like nothing so earthly as a knight, especially comparing her to Petrich, her opponent.

"She's beautiful," Patrice said, and couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.

"She is." Maria laughed. "But you should see her mother. She's what we call a professional beauty. That's how she met her artist anyway, everyone wanted to paint her."

But it was not looks that had won Errys her place in the tournament. The joust was as quick as lightning. Dame Errys unhorsed Petrich in the second round, after nearly doing so in the first. She left Petrich standing in the middle of the arena gazing after her, looking as if he just received a visit from a goddess.

"She leaves a trail of broken hearts behind her," said Maria. "Just like her mother. There's so much gossip that even us palace servants hear about it."

"I can see why," Patrice said. After all, if she was beautiful enough even for a dragon to take notice, she could only imagine what effect the woman had on other humans.

The other three matches in the third tier passed quickly. They were all knights that Patrice had seen, but had no attachment to or knowledge about. With Maria sitting at her side, Patrice learned more about all of them than even Elizabet had told her. Palace servants like Maria knew as much about the noble bloodlines as the nobles themselves did. Sometimes more.

Patrice tuned out her chattering and glanced over at the tournament board, attached to the front of the royal box. Felisjyta would be facing off against Eddard, first thing. Errys would be facing the winner of the fourth match – a knight named Sir Wilhelm. The two remaining knights, Sir Karles and Sir Bruce, would be facing off against each other.

When Felisjyta and Eddard reappeared on the field, neither of them tried to hide how hot they were. Both fanned themselves off while waiting for the signal to mount. The horses stood as still as statues, not even twitching an ear or tail.

Even stepping into the ring didn't perk up the horses as much as it had earlier. It was now the hottest part of the day, and it was clear that the horses would rather be resting in the shade than running back and forth across hot sand. The two knights looked scarcely more excited. This was a quick match, as quick as they could make it.

The first pass ended in a draw, with two shattered lances.

Eddard broke his lance on the second pass. Felisjyta's lance cracked, but did not break, so the point went to him.

On the third pass, Felisjyta used the same move that had beaten Braiden. She angled her lance to hit the top of Eddard's shield. It didn't slide off to hit the knight himself, but it unbalanced him. The force of the blow separated Eddard not only from his horse, but from his shield and lance as well.

He hit the ground first, though Felisjyta slid down just after. She held her seat longer, so the point went to her. Eddard wanted to duel, and Felisjyta gave him one. But he wasn't as fast as Johan. She feinted a side attack from the right, then came in from the left around his shield. The point of her blade rammed into his armor so hard it sent him sprawling into the sand.

Eddard picked himself up and left the field without giving her the customary bow.

While the crowd clapped, cheered, and whistled, Felisjyta searched the faces until she found Patrice. At least, that's what Patrice assumed she was doing. Patrice gave her a small wave, right before the knight turned to offer her honors to her mistress and the royal family.

"I suppose this means we’re going to the summer court," said Patrice.

"Oh, my lady! This is-" Maria began.

Patrice didn't pay attention to Maria's words. She was too busy noticing the annoyed scowl that clouded the face of Countess Elizabet in the stands opposite. Sir Eddard had been fighting for her.

The next two matches took twice as long as Felisjyta's had. Errys had to duel with Wilhelm for a full ten minutes before she finally managed to disarm him and claim victory from the jaws of defeat – both had accumulated the same score through the tournament, and he very nearly claimed the win in the duel. It was the longest, and closest, duel in the entirety of the tournament so far.

Sir Karles only managed to throw Bruce on the third round, and had to duel for his win as well.

Now that the three victors were established, the tournament went into another long break. Maria excused herself to return to the palace, and Patrice didn't bother to hold her back. She went to find Felisjyta.

The knight had stripped off her armor and was lying in the shade next to Vasya.

Patrice paused a moment before joining them. She was getting better at judging humans all the time. Before she would not have noticed anything unusual, but now she could see the thin lines of old scars and the ugly purple of new bruises blooming over Felisjyta's skin amid a scattering of freckles. Although the joust was only mock fighting, it still took its toll on the body.

Felisjyta opened one eye at the soft swish of fabric and gave Patrice a smile.

Patrice smiled back. "I believe congratulations are in order," she said. "You did your mistress proud."

"And you too," Felisjyta agreed, "I kept my word not to disappoint you. But we're not done yet. I still have to face Errys and she's a hell of a knight."

"How do you know you'll be fighting her and not Karles?"

"She has more points than he does," said Felisjyta. She closed her eyes again. "I'll be fighting her and I'm completely exhausted. This heat!"

"Perhaps the great Dragon-in-the-Sun is testing you," Patrice said. "He wants to see if you are worthy of carrying my favor in battle."

"I didn't know dragons had religion."

Patrice raised her eyebrows. "I thought you said people in your country knew about dragons. Did you think we would consider ourselves the secondhand creation of some human god?"

"We do know some things about dragons, but you're still the first one I've ever met. I suppose I didn't think, knowing what I know of you, that dragons would consider gods at all."

Patrice had to laugh at that. It was the first time she'd laughed since her mother's death. That felt strange, perhaps slightly disloyal – even though she knew her mother wouldn't mind. But she truly couldn't fault Felisjyta her reasoning.

Felisjyta smiled. "Well, it would be nice if you can ask the Dragon-in-the-Sun to bank his fires slightly. The mountains don't get half this warm and little Vasya is having a rough time."

"I will, in return for a favor."

Felisjyta opened her eyes and rolled over on her side to face Patrice. "What favor?"

Patrice ran her hand over the dragon scale cloak, as she often found herself doing when unsure. "I want you to teach me how to fight the way you do. With a sword."

The knight stared at her for a long moment. "Why?"

Patrice dropped her cloak and dug her fingers into the cool grass instead. "Compared to other dragons, I am weak. Compared to humans, I'm ignorant. I have no wish to be either."

Patrice met Felisjyta's eyes. The two women stared at one another, and the weight of their strange, growing friendship was as oppressive as the summer heat.

"Why not?" Felisjyta said, finally. The tension vanished as soon as she spoke. "There will be plenty of time to learn the basics at summer court."

A bugle rang out and she groaned. She groaned again as the squire hurried over, bearing her armor. The knight pushed herself to her feet. "You better go back to your seat. From here on out it'll just be me and Vasya getting kitted out."

"Yes," Patrice said. She stood and shook bits of grass and dust off her skirts. "While I wait, I will send a prayer to the Dragon-in-the-Sun for you, that he might cool his raging fires."

Felisjyta laughed. "I'd appreciate it. But I'll do my best to make us proud on my own abilities."

Patrice smiled. It was a very dragon-like statement. "If you weren't willing to do so, I wouldn't have offered." She gave Vasya an affectionate pat and left Felisjyta to the demands of her squire.

The seats, when Patrice returned to them, were completely packed.

Not everyone bothered to sit through all five rounds of jousting, but it seemed as if everyone in New Iber had turned out to see who their new champion would be. Some seats had been cleared by the servants who, as on the previous day, had to return to their duties in the palace. That did not help. For every empty seat, two people had crammed into the stands. Patrice found herself pressed in the very middle of a hot and restless crowd of nobles.

Excitement and chatter buzzed all around her. To have two dames facing off over the championship, that had never happened before. People were torn between who they wanted to win. Felisjyta was a foreigner, a Serzek. Patrice heard those who said that she would win to prove Serze's strength and commitment to the alliance, and those who said that she should allow Errys to win because it would be disgraceful for a foreign knight to be champion. But, the conversation suggested, Errys was only just on the right side of respectability and legitimacy and to have her win would be an insult to the royal family. Patrice could only shake her head. She didn't think she would ever understand how complicated humans made politics for themselves.

In all that hubbub, no one heard the small prayer she muttered, just a few whispered syllables in dragon.

The ambient noise only increased as the two knights arrived at the arena. Patrice studied them both, Felisjyta in her colors of emerald and sapphire, and Errys in her colors of sky blue and silver. Her pale gold horse really did look too delicate to be a knight's horse, but it still stood at least a hand higher than Vasya, if not more. She wondered if Maria would consider either of them "proper" horses.

Errys was taller than Felisjyta too, and seemed more graceful compared side-by-side with the Serzek knight. There were certain similarities shared by the two women – such as their amusement of their current circumstances. Felisjyta grinned as she looked at the shocked and excited crowd. Errys was not so open, but Patrice could see the slight smile hovering on her face.

Both knights mounted, accepted their first lance, and took their places on either side of the tilting barrier. Felisjyta held the end closest to the royal box, presumably to avoid offending the queen by associating Errys with the royal family. As the announcer stood up, the predicted hush fell over the crowd. This time, the silence was complete. Even the birds and insects seemed muted, as if nature herself hesitated to interrupt and before the final match.

“Dame Felicity of Fellveer, fighting for Lady Patrice Drake. Dame Errys Dauber,” he said, gesturing to the appropriate party. Then, “Start!”

The eerie silence continued as the knights began to charge. Shields came up and lances came down, both knights ready for collision. They hit one another straight on. Both lances cracked, then exploded in a shower of splinters. As they did so, the silence cracked right along with them and suddenly the crowd was cheering and screaming again.

Neither knight took any notice. They bowed to one another and returned to their starting positions.

Each dame accepted a new lance from their squire and the exercise began again. Two horses galloped at each other at full speed, all signs of heat and exhaustion gone. This time Errys's horse spooked slightly, shying away from the barrier at the last minute.

Two lances hit two shields.

Felisjyta's lance broke. Errys's did not.

The crowd around Patrice had whipped itself up to fever pitch. With that one hit, Felisjyta had tied her score with Errys's. No one seemed to care any longer about the political ramifications of who won, they cheered the match itself.

The two knights wheeled back around for their third and final lances.

Both horses ran steadily on the last pass. For this round, neither knight ran straight on, but off-center. That gave them a better chance of unhorsing their opponent, in an ordinary match. The lances struck, and shattered. Neither woman lost her seat. Still tied for points, the match came down to either a fourth pass or duel.

Errys dismounted onto the red gold sand, and Felisjyta followed shortly after, sword drawn.

The duel was on.

Errys lunged first, going immediately on the offensive. Felisjyta turned and caught the blow on her shield. She launched a cut of her own, but Errys had already disengaged and Felisjyta's sword met nothing but empty air.

Errys went to take advantage of that, swinging for Felisjyta's unprotected side even as Felisjyta had done against Eddard, but she was ready for the move. She sidestepped Errys's attack and slammed her shield into Errys's arm. The women separated again. They circled, trading blows of little consequence, each trying to judge the right moment to close with the other.

Then Errys seemingly lost patience with fighting at a distance. She attacked again, a feint aimed at Felisjyta's legs before she brought her sword swiftly upward to thrust at Felisjyta's exposed chest.

Felisjyta did not take the bait. She shifted her feet, and raised her shield instead of lowering it, catching the thrust between sword and shield. Felisjyta batted Errys's sword out of the way and rammed the other knight again, this time catching her straight on.

Errys stumbled, dropping her shield.

Felisjyta raised her sword, ready for a downward strike that would end the battle.

She did not get a chance.

In one swift move Errys bounded forward, caught Felisjyta's sword arm, and twisted it into what seemed to Patrice an unnatural and uncomfortable angle. With her dominant arm she thrust her sword straight and true, ending with the point at Felisjyta's throat.

Felisjyta dropped her sword.

The fight was over.

Both knights bowed. That was the signal the crowd had been waiting for. They surged forward in a screaming mob, taking over the arena completely and surrounding the two exhausted women.

Patrice let them clear out of the stands before heading for her room. If she was required to attend the feast tonight, she needed at least a little time to herself to recuperate before she had to relinquish herself to the tender mercies of her maids and whatever ensemble they had cooked up for her.

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#writeblr #writing #tc's writing #dragon's daughter #femslash #queer fantasy #fantasy novels #authors on tumblr

[seraphicsentences]

canvas of comfort: when tattoos mend hearts in the dark <3

ellie williams x cat 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

AN: lol. i don’t know how to write but i never see ellie x cat stories so i thought i’d give it a shot. this is not edited. why did i try writing. let me know what you think!! xx

tags: ellie williams x cat, tlou universe, first kiss kinda, soft ellie, baby ellie, jackson’s resident tattoo artist cat, the story we never got but deserved, background joel + ellie <33

After turning over the idea numerous times in her head, Ellie gave in. The bite mark was, for the most part, hidden. Ridges and indents from the remnants of her old self-instilled chemical burn perfectly blended the curved marks of infected teeth— not exactly pretty, but it did the job. She received a real scolding from Joel when he found out what she had done.

~~ flashback ~~

Ellie didn’t know what to do once she rinsed off the chemical mixture with water. Her skin flamed a bright red, and the shirt stuffed in her mouth was entirely soaked through with saliva. She was dizzy with pain, and the air against her forearm felt like needles. The burn didn’t seem to be getting better the more she rinsed.

Ellie heaved a sigh, “Well fuck me.” She knew what she had to do… or more, who she had to face. Joel was going to absolutely murder her.

She loosely wrapped her arm in the softest shirt she could find, and used her good arm to pat her face with water- hopefully reducing the hot pink flush across her cheeks. Feeling this was the most normal she was gonna look, Ellie quickly snuck her way towards the main house, praying to God she wouldn’t run into anyone.

It’d be hard to explain exactly why she decided to melt off a layer of her skin in the middle of the night.

~~

“Are you crazy? Ellie, you could have been seriously injured! What if it burned off more than just your skin?”

“I’m fine Joel! It’s not a big deal! You said we needed to figure a way to hide it from the others, so I found us a way.”

“This is not what I meant when I said that! We don’t have doctors here in Jackson.. let alone the right supplies at the moment to let this properly heal. We’ll have to keep this bandaged for now. You’re lucky I have patrol in Teton tomorrow morning, I’ll stop by that pharmacy there first thing. You were scheduled for patrol in Wilson, correct?”

“Yes… I can still g-“

“Absolutely not. You’re staying here until I get back tomorrow. Don’t go putting anything else on it. I mean it. I’ll tell Maria you’re not feeling well, you hear me?”

“Yeees, Joooeel. What you say goes.”

“Thank you, Joel?”

“Thank you, Joel.”

~ flash-forward ~

Ellie finds her way to Cat’s place, a small old back-house on the far edge of Jackson. Cat had agreed to do the tattoo, after much convincing that it would be perfectly fine to do over her old injury. Ellie had brought her notebook with her, several pages with sketches dedicated to potential designs.

She knocks on the door, shifting with anticipation. “Hey Cat. It’s me, Ellie, here for, uh, you know,” she calls through the wood.

The door opens, Cat’s face peeking through. Her dark eyes slide down to meet Ellie’s as she smiles. “Oh hey Els, come on in,” she beckons, widening the space between the door frame to let Ellie slide in under her arm. “Sorry ‘bout the mess, it’s from last night’s whole fiasco. You should’ve come!”

Ellie chuckles, scratching behind her ear out of nerves. “Yeah yeah, next time. Joel and I were having a movie night.”

She follows Cat towards her room, stepping over bunches of paper and books, before finally entering the dimly lit space.

“You guys and your movies. Cute. I don’t have like a tattoo chair or anything so you can just sit on my bed by that table. It’ll be more comfortable anyways.” Cat motions.

She goes around the room, picking up a few materials and such before dragging a small stool to the edge of the bed.

She sits down, straddling it, as Ellie, wide-eyed, watches. “You coming or what?” Cat laughs, head tilted over her shoulder to peek at her.

“Yeah, sorry”, Ellie mumbles, ears blushing, as she moved her way onto the foot of the bed. She shuffles backwards to lean against the wall and hands Cat the sketchbook, already flipped open to one of her drawings.

“I was thinking something like this, just around here,” Ellie points to her scabbed forearm.

“I like it. You’re quite the artist aren’t you,” Cat teases.

“Ha- ha. Shut up,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes.

Cat grins, eyes glinting with laughter before pulling Ellie’s arm off her lap and onto the table.

“Let me know if it hurts, okay? This’ll take a couple sessions, so we can take breaks whenever, just let me know.”

Ellie hums an okay, and Cat moves to get started.

~~

After a painful 2 hours, Cat decides they’ve made enough progress, and scribbles down a couple of dates for Ellie’s next sessions. The afternoon had been filled with slow chatter, warm smiles, and soft touches. Ellie was completely unable to tear her eyes away from Cat as she worked.

Everything about her was hypnotizing: the way strands of her jet-black hair fell out of her loose bun, framing her sharp olive cheekbones, how the veins on her hands pronounced with every motion, the way Cat peeked through her eyelashes at Ellie to make sure she was okay to keep going…

Ellie hoped she didn’t notice the raised goosebumps on her skin. She had never felt so nervous around another person here at Jackson, but there was just something about Cat that had Ellie’s heart in hummingbird mode.

Her piercing appearance contrasted greatly with her gentle mannerisms, and Ellie felt entirely succumbed to her.

~~

It was just about afternoon and her final session at Cat’s, and Ellie couldn’t help but feel disappointed, knowing she wouldn’t have any more excuses to spend hours alone at Cat’s, pressed close together hovering over her arm.

“Hey Els,” Cat greets, her eyebrow raised. “You ready to finish this up?”

“Hi Cat,” Ellie smiles, “Thanks for doing this.”

“Sure thing,” Cat says, as they trail into the bedroom.

Ellie settles in her typical spot, fingers drumming on the table as Cat preps her station with all her tools. By now they’ve fallen into an easy routine, actions on autopilot, Cat humming some 80s tune under her breath as she inks.

An hour or so passes before Cat looks up, meeting Ellie’s enamored green eyes, and says, “Well… I’m all done here. You like it?”

Ellie tears her eyes away, stumbling over her words as she gawks at Cat’s beautiful work etched onto her skin. “That’s crazy good, I-what do I owe you?”

Cat laughs as if Ellie’s just told her one of her pocketbook jokes. She moves onto the bed as her laughter fades, pushing aside Ellie to make room to sit. Her gaze slowly traces up from Ellie’s forearm to her lips- then her eyes.

Cat’s hooded expression grows darker, and she asks just above a whisper, “What can you give me?” She sounds absolutely carnal, her head turned just enough for their noses to hover not even a centimeter away from one another.

Mind-fogged and pupils blown, Ellie breathes out the only word that comes to mind, “Anything.”

She blinks and Cat’s moved on top of her, straddling her thighs, core hovered just above Ellie’s hips and lips crashing to meet her own. It’s filled with passion, but so soft at the same time, just like Cat. She tastes like soda and cigarettes, and Ellie lifts her hands to rest on Cat’s waist, when her freshly done tattoo brushes against the bedsheet.

It’s as if she’s just been dumped with a bucket of ice water, and instinctively, Ellie throws Cat off of her onto the other side of the bed. “What the fuck, Cat?”, she yells.

Her fingers meet her lips as she touches them, face paled, and her heart in her stomach. Cat’s expression matches her own.

“Shit. Sorry, it’s just-“ She’s infected. I just infected her, was all Ellie could think. What came out of her mouth was, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Cat pauses, her hair now tousled as she tucks in her lips. Looking down, she quietly responds, “Yeah, okay.”

~~

The pair paints quite the picture, a rather buff woman covered in tattoos following after a shorter blushing brunette (redhead?? how does one classify auburn 😭) through the greenery filled outdoors.

Cat is the first to break the silence. Clearing her throat, she says, “Hey Ellie I’m s-“.

“No, no, listen,” Ellie cuts her off. She turns around to face Cat, eyebrows scrunched together as she looks up. “I- I, uh,” Ellie stumbles over her words. She doesn’t know how to break the news, how to explain her past, how Cat will react if she tells her she might turn because of their kiss.

Cat’s head falls to the side, a soft, pained smile gracing her pink lips as she murmurs, “You don’t have to explain yourself. I totally misread the vibe.”

Shaking her head Ellie tries to explain, “Cat-“

“I’m sor-“, Cat apologizes.

“I’ve never kissed anyone! I was nervous!” Ellie blurts out.

Cat’s eyebrows jump up as her mouth gapes open, trying to make feel for the words she wants to say. She lands upon the word, “Oh”, a laugh bursting from her chest as a heartwarming smile spreads across her face.

Ellie, knowing the truth and finding the situation a whole lot less amusing, groans, “Caaaat. Stop it, it’s not funny!” I mean, there was a chance she wouldn’t turn, right?

Cat ignores Ellie’s arguments, still laughing and grabs her hand, pulling her back towards the house, teasing, “C’mon, Els, no need to get all scared of me. I don’t bite.”

You might in a couple of hours, Ellie thinks.

~~

It’s half past 3 in the morning, and Ellie is anything but tired. The garage- turned room is filled with sounds of Cat’s sleepy snores, and Ellie watches (creep 🙄) as her chest rises and falls with her breathing.

The movie is long over, Cat not staying awake to see the ending, and Ellie quietly thanks the heavens for Cat’s exhaustion. She hasn’t shown any signs of infection yet, luckily, but Ellie isn’t going to take any chances.

In the meantime, she takes in Cat’s seraphic features. Her lips are just barely parted, slightly cracking due to the dry air. Ellie wants to wet them with her own. Strands of Cat’s short, black hair fall across the bridge of her nose as she shifts onto her side. Ellie reaches out to tuck them behind her ear, ever so gently, so as not to disturb her slumber.

The night passes and the morning comes, and Ellie stays, her face rested on the crook of her arm, eyes peeking over to watch Cat’s face. Soon enough, Cat inhales deeply and her eyes flutter open to meet Ellie’s stare. “Hey, stalker.” she whispers. The rasp in Cat’s voice pulls at Ellie’s heartstrings and she blushes a scarlet red, feeling caught. Her embarrassment is quickly overturned by the surging relief of Cat’s normal condition. “How do you feel?” tone hopeful, she can’t help but ask.

Cat lifts herself to lean on one arm before smoothly responding, “Like I want to kiss you again.”

Ellie lets her relief crash over as she smiles, still blushing, and leans in to press it into Cat’s matching grin. She can’t help but sigh into the kiss, before moving her lips more fervently, more hungrily, scrambling to take in as much of Cat as she can.

Finally Ellie leans away, falling back into the mattress, bouncing when she lands. Cat chuckles, “Not so nervous anymore, are we?”

Ellie doesn’t even complain about her teasing. She tucks her smile into the pillow, saying, “Just kiss me.”

AN: they’re so cute 😭😭. pov me blushing and kicking my feet at my own writing. i just needed this so bad.

#wlw #tlou #ellie williams #cat #ellie x cat #girls kissing girls #tattoos #the last of us #tlou2 #ellie tlou #joel miller #joel and ellie #cat tlou #lesbian #sapphic #gay #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #fanfic #queer #lesbian ellie williams

[trashywormeateroffics]

The right universe.

Summary: After Y/N's life turns upside down, she's full of grief. Somehow, one day, she manages to travel to the MCU, where she meets her favorite characters, including a certain god who seems willing to establish a friendship with her. Suddenly she's enwrapped in this new world, where everything she loved in a screen is now reality. How will she react? Will she be able to deal with the ghosts that haunt her? Or will she let them consume her? Will she be open to accept the love she is offered? Read to find out!

Read this on AO3! 

Category: F/M.

Relationships: Loki/reader.

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Vision (Marvel), Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, other minor appearances of other characters but these are the main ones, Pepper Potts, Loki (Marvel).

Additional tags: Loki/reader - Freeform, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluffyfest, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Pining a lot because we love to suffer, Domestic Avengers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is a parental figure, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Everyone is a good bro, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, y/n, After Infinity War but no one died and the purple bitch was defeated, Missions, Y/N is a universe traveller, Grief, Therapy, Protective Loki (Marvel), Loki in love.

MASTERLIST OF THE STORY

Chapter 33: Coming clean. 

“Should we wake them up?” Clint asked, looking at a very asleep and cuddly Loki and Y/N.

“No!” Nat whisper-yelled. “Leave them alone.”

“Does anyone know how long this has been going on for?” Cap asked, serious. Everyone shrugged and shook their heads. Tony was still at the door, looking at them with a frown on his face. He had tried to wake them up screaming, but when Romanoff tackled him to the ground so he would shut up, he decided to just stay there. When they woke up, hell was gonna break loose, but until then, he could wait.

“Hm…” Y/N sighed and looked at a sleeping Loki next to her, hugging her tightly to him. She smiled. “Lokes, wake up…” He groaned and frowned. “Loki, the team could see us-” And that's when she heard someone clear their throat. She turned around to a smirking Nat with her arms crossed above her chest, a serious Cap, a seemingly pleased Clint and an angry Tony.

“Hey…” She told them, smiling and nudged Loki, who opened his eyes to see the scene. When he realized what was happening, he sat up, almost throwing Y/N off the couch.

“How long has this been going on?” Clint asked.

“So, here's the thing…” Y/N began, smiling sheepishly next to a tense god. “To be clear, before I say anything, what are you talking about when you say this?”

“This is you and Loki being together.” Steve said.

“Romantically,” Nat clarified. Tony just stayed there quiet.

“Oh okay,” Y/N said, “so we are on the same page, great, good… Tony?” She said, looking at him, worried.

“You two are together?” He asked.

“Yeah, but before you begin getting mad and screaming, we've been together since I got shot, give or take some time, and we didn't tell you guys only because we were waiting for the right time to do it.”

“Months? This has been going on for months?” Tony asked, shocked.

“Yeah…” She responded, carefully. “Please don't get mad…”

“What about you?” He asked, looking at Loki now. “What have you got to say in your defense?”

“In my defense,” the trickster began, “nothing.” Tony was about to say something but he cut him off. “But I can say that I care very much about Y/N and that this is not one of my many tricks.”

“And what if you're lying?” Cap asked this time.

“Then you'll kill me, I suppose.” The god responded, serious.

“We will.” The billionaire told him.

“Tony!” Y/N cried out.

“It's okay darling.” Loki put a hand on her knee, which didn't go unnoticed by the team.

“If you hurt her, if you even hurt one hair on her head, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

“Fair enough.” The god said with a nod.

“But he won't though.” The young woman clarified, putting her hand over his on her knee.

“Okay.” Iron man said, and everyone breathed out in relief.

“Now…” Natasha began, smirking. “Tell me everything.” Y/N giggled.

“I'll tell you once we are alone.” The spy rolled her eyes. “Oh! And please don't tell Thor yet, we want to do it.” She said, making Loki feel grateful, for her, for everything that made him find this amazing woman, and for everything that made her love him, without knowing that who did it, was himself.

                                       -----------------------------

“Do we need to do this?” Y/N just looked at him and he rolled his eyes. “He'll figure it out eventually.”

“Loki!”

“I am joking mortal,” he said, grabbing her waist and pulling her close to him.

“You better be joking Lokie Dokie or you know what happens if you aren't…” She was referring to the ever-present threat of her calling him that in front of the team.

“You are very provocative when you threaten me, do you know that?”

“Now I do,” she said, kissing him and pointing with her head to the door of her room. “Now, come on, let's go.”

“Yes my lady,” he responded, smirking, and made her blush.

They both made their way to the kitchen, where Thor was in the company of the spider-child.

“Lady Y/N, brother!”

“Hey Thor, do you have a moment? We need to talk to you about something.” The god frowned but nodded and Peter took it as a sign to leave.

The three of them sat down at the kitchen table, Y/N next to Loki, in front of Thor.

“What is it? Are you unwell?” The blond asked, worried.

“No, no! I'm fine.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “We actually wanted to talk to you about something…” She looked at Loki expectantly and he opened his eyes wider, subtly shaking his head. She nudged him. Thor looked utterly confused.

“Brother? What is it? Are you alright?”

“I am fine Thor,” the raven haired god closed his eyes and sighed before opening them and taking a deep breath before speaking. “Lady… Y/N and me, we are… um…”

“Oh my god! Aren't you supposed to have a silver tongue?” Y/N said, unbelieving of the sight in front of her. “We are together, Thor. Like romantically.” She clarified. The blond god seemed to have gone through the seven stages of… love? Happiness? His smile slowly grew wider, like the cheshire cat, and he got up to embrace both Loki and Y/N in a bone-crushing hug.

“Guys!” He exclaimed. “This is wonderful! My brother and my best friend, who is now my little sister!”

“Thor. Air.” Loki said, breathlessly. Thor put them down.

“I apologize, this is the best news you could have given me! I am ecstatic!” Y/N grinned at him.

“Well I'm glad you took it well...”

“Why would I not?” He asked, confused. Y/N looked at him sheepishly and was about to speak, when Loki beat her to it.

“This has been going on for a few months now. We did not tell anyone.” The blond Asgardian just clasped his hands together and smiled as if he was looking at an adorable little puppy.

“I am so happy!” He exclaimed and then got serious. ”I am not angry at you two for not telling me, or anyone. I understand everyone has their own timing when they feel something is right to say. I am glad that you felt this was the moment.” She smiled softly at him and Loki gave a small nod.

“Okay guys, this was lovely.” Y/N said. “I'm gonna leave you two to talk now, mwua!” She blew a kiss to both brothers and kissed Loki on the cheek before leaving.

Both of them stayed silent for a few moments until Loki spoke.

“I know what you must be thinking, I am not tricking her.” Thor cocked his head to the side.

“I do not think that Loki,” he said, beginning to smile softly. “I can tell you truly care for her.”

“I do,” he said, a soft smile slowly forming on his lips.

“Then keep her close, don't let it go.”

“I'm not planning on it.” The god responded with determination in his tone.

~taglist~  @mischief2sarawr @midnights-ramblings @mealoncholy-hill @paetonnn 

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x yn #Loki Laufeyson x reader #Loki Laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #Loki Odinson x reader #loki #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki angst #loki smut #mcu avengers #mcu #mcu x reader #avengers x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #the avengers

[soulofapatrick]

Always Been You - Jesse x reader

Summary: Y/N is part of the Jesse; Ellie and Dina trio. Despite being the most observant you are the most oblivious to Jesse’s feelings towards you

Words: 2K

Warnings: mentions of sensory overloads 

Notes: @thefictionalgemini and @moonchildpc​ here’s another Jesse story for ya, the man needs all the appreciation and love he can get. I will tag you in every Jesse I write x

Y/N’s POV

You wouldn’t be able to tell there was an apocalypse going on with the way everyone is dancing and laughing, the music upbeat and the whole atmosphere merry. Most of the town are here, except those few who don’t like the parties and those with young kids who need to stay home for them. I usually take babysitting duties during these but tonight Nancy and the other mums decided I had to go have fun at the dance. 

So here I am, leaning against the wall, sipping on a rum and coke that Ellie forced into my hand a while ago before she disappeared off to somewhere, probably to find Dina who she would follow to the ends of the earth. Both of them are very dumb as they are head over heels for each other but they cannot see for the life of them that the other likes them. It makes me want to just grab them and snap ‘now kiss’ as they cause so much sexual tension when around and when drunk. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” That smooth southern lilt drags me from people watching to look up at the Asian American. He’s got that smile on his face that has my face flushing. Jesse is fit, he always has been and ever since arriving in Jackson with Joel and Ellie he’s on my radar. Ellie’s teased me multiple times about just asking him out but I’m gonna be the one to ruin the little quartet we have going on.  

“Yeah, Nancy told me I had to come.” I shrug lightly as he stops next to me, elbow brushing mine and cognac eyes sparking in the fairy lights strung up around the old barn. His smile is soft and everything about him is welcoming and warm and it makes me rest my head on his shoulder and just go back to people watching as Jesse doesn’t say anything.  

It gets a little uncomfortable after a while so I grab Jesse’s arm, wrapping it around my shoulders in front of me so I can lean my back against his side. He shifts a little before accepting the position and resting his chin atop my head as I finally spot Dina. She’s dancing with a member of the community, he helps in the meat shop but I’m not too sure of his name as he’s man of few words. I think his name might be Adrian but again I could be completely wrong as all I’ve said to him is ‘hi’ and ‘bye’. He seems like a sweet man, I should try talking to him more. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jesse hums, arm pulling me a little closer while I take another sip of my drink as Dina and Adrian spin around the makeshift dance floor, quite a few people’s gazes on her as she’s shameless and her confidence is hard to ignore. If I wasn’t straight I could definitely see myself having a crush on her but she’s been in a weird on and off relationship with Jesse for almost eight months now and honestly it’s killing me. The pair are terrible for each other, Dina and Ellie having wayyyy more chemistry. 

“She’s putting on quite the show, isn’t she?” Ellie’s low voice appears from my right as she joins us, leaning on the wall next to me with a whiskey in hand. Not sure how she managed to get that as she’s not legal for another two years and Maria is quite strict on keeping the age limit to 21, even in a post apocalyptic world. I somewhat admire how she leads with fairness but how even those like that bigot Seth are scared of her. 

Jesse just hums in response, his chin moving against mine in a short nod that has Ellie sending me a knowing smirk that I really hope Jesse doesn’t notice. I focus on drinking my drink and just scanning the room, eyes falling on Tommy and Joel. It’s always great to see the brothers reunited again and being able to as much of a family as they can, Tommy having become a father figure for me. That did surprise me as I always thought Joel would be the father figure in my life after travelling with him and Ellie for almost a year yet Tommy took me under his wing almost immediately. 

I didn’t even realise Ellie and Jesse were having a conversation until Dina’s making her way over to us asking what they were talking about. I don’t mind not being part of the conversation as it’s just nice to have their company and be surrounded by their lively conversations about god knows what. Last time they were talking this animatedly it was an argument over DC and Marvel comics they had found in the old shopping mall just south of Jackson. Personally I’m a Marvel kind of girl, loving the character of Hawkeye and loving the representation for the deaf. 

“She’s not with us, is she?” Dina’s sweet voice floats through my thoughts and I turn to see Ellie and Dina watching me. They smile lovingly at me, Ellie squeezing my arm before they return to their animated conversations and I go back to watching the way Joel throws his head back in a genuine laugh at something Tommy’s said. I’m vaguely aware of Jesse putting his now empty glass down and wrapping his other arm around my front, arms moving to wrap around my waist as he gently begins swaying us in time to the live band. I could be imagining it honestly but I won’t question it as I want it to be real, my body sparking with electricity at the feel of his arms around my waist and his head still settled on top of mine. 

I let my eyes slide shut, leaning back into Jesse with all of my weight and just enjoy the sounds around me . The cute giggles emitted from Dina at a stupid pun Ellie said, Jesse chuffing and chest rumbling against my back. The sounds of many other conversations merging and mixing like the way the fairy lights flow through the rainbow over and over again. The smell of different types of alcohol mixing and the smell of sweaty bodies making an almost sickly feeling in my gut

I grip Jesse’s arm, suddenly aware of and not liking the sticky heat surrounding me from all the sweaty bodies dancing and running around. The three of them seems to understand, Ellie and Dina seeing the slightly panicked look in my eyes as Ellie taps Jesse’s shoulder, saying, “Time to go. Too much.” 

Jesse understands, unwrapping his arms from around my waist to have his right slide down my left arm to grip my hand in his before he begins to navigate his way through the crowds to the exit. I’m gasping in the cold air, resting my forehead to his shoulder as I try to focus on the feel of his hands in mine. 

“What was it this time?” Ellie asks, voice soothing as we all sit on one of the benches outside, Ellie and Dina opposite me and Jesse as I find myself unable to let Jesse’s hand go. 

“Smell.” 

“Yeah that checks out,” She nods, freckles sticking out against her pale skin when she scrunches her nose up, “Was starting to smell really stale in there.” 

“You didn’t have to leave with me.” I mumble, feeling embarrassed now as they’re all focused on me and I have nothing to distract myself with. 

“Yeah we did, we’re not going to just leave you behind dumbass,” Dina reaches out and squeezes my free hand. Then the three of them continue the conversation they were having inside like nothing happened. It helps me relax and I know that they know from the small smiles on their lips. I just spend this time taking in the two girls opposite me. 

Ellie’s auburn hair is done up in a low bun with a strand or two escaping the style. She’s wearing a white tee shirt under the blue checked flannel that I recognise being from my wardrobe, the sleeves rolled up the elbow. The blue draws out the darker shade of green in her clover eyes that are sparkling with every counter Dina throws her way. She’s wiping her hands on her skinny jeans, the tattoo she recently got to cover the bite so she could stop wearing those bandages. Ellie always gives off such a tomboyish style and attitude and I wouldn’t change that for the world because it’s just so Ellie like.

Dina on the other hand is very feminine. She’s also in skinny jeans but she seemed to opt for cowboy boots unlike Ellie’s scuffed and worn converse. Dina’s hair is up in a high bun, completely slicked back except for a select section at the front that frame her rounded face in gentle waves, the only hint that her charcoal black hair isn’t straight. It’s very obvious from her complexion that she’s an IsY/Nlite and jewish, no hate or prejudice. I think she’s beautiful with her chocolate brown eyes a smouldering against the burgundy v-neck she’s wearing. 

They’re both beautiful and everything about them compliments each other. I still think they would be absolutely perfect together if they would stop dancing around each other. The way their hands are always brushing again some part of the other’s skin and they way their gazes linger on each other for a little too long. 

I know what Jesse looks like without having to turn my head and look at him. His appearance seems to be burned into my eyelids with his shaggy liquorice coloured hair that always has strands of his fringe falling into his cognac brown eyes. No matter how many times you brush the hair out of his eyes it’ll fall right back into place. I find it cute and it gives me a reason to be touching him, caressing his cheek when I bring my hand back down. He’s tall and lanky but by no means weak, his muscles are well defined under the long sleeved grey henley he’s currently wearing: not rock solid as there’s definitely give and softness to those muscles. He’s wearing jeans like always and his sturdy boots as he never knows when he’ll have to spring into action when out so he tries to always wear sensible clothing, no matter the occasion. 

Long fingers hook under my chin, causing my eyes to fly open and my face is being turned so I’m looking up at Jesse, eyes bright as he says, “I can hear the cogs turning in your head.” 

“O-oh,” I can’t help but blush, trying to look anywhere but at him when I notice we’re alone, “Where’d Dina and Ellie go?” 

“Dina was getting cold so Ellie offered to walk her home,” He tells me, that southern lilt all I can focus on and the way his lips move around every word, “Shall I walk you home?” I don’t respond, just watching him, unable to respond, “Y/N-“ 

Something comes over me and I’m surging forwards, lips slamming against his surprisingly soft ones. He doesn’t pull away or yell but instead his hands fly to my hip and my cheek, guiding the kiss into a softer one that has me straddling his waist. The kiss is sweet and new territory for us but at the same time it feels like we’ve done this a thousand times. Jesse’s tongue brushes along my bottom lip and I’m parting them with a sigh at how right this all feels. 

“You don’t know how long I have been waiting for this,” Jesse murmurs against my lips and I’m pulling back, the grin on his face widening at the probable shock on mine, “Have you seen me let Ellie or even Dina manhandle me the way you do?” I just shake my head knowing if I speak I won’t be able to keep the quiver out of my voice and he’s holding my face in his hands, laughing softly as he says, “It’s always been you idiot.” 

Maybe I should listen to Ellie more often.

#jesse #jesse tlou #jesse the last of us #tlou jesse #tlou Jesse x reader #tlou Jesse fluff #tlou Jesse smut #tlou Jesse x you #tlou smut #tlou fluff #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fluff #Tommy miller #Joel Miller #Ellie williams #dina tlou #Ellie x dina #:readmore:

[nalia-tsukino]

CHARACTER GAME

Fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by.

Repost & tag away~

Tagged by: @yuriko-tsukino-rp @maria--bride

Tagging: @yuuto-tsukino @afi-mukami @cutelih @best-mukami @ask-akii-mukami and anyone else who wants to do it. No pressure, of course.

Nalia's character

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS

Embarrassment — Due to her past, Nalia finds it difficult to talk about certain things. She is embarrassed and uncomfortable to speak her thoughts out loud. For the same reason, she does not handle praise or compliments well.

Empathy — Nalia cares a lot about others, especially the people who are very close to her. She is willing to make sacrifices and put them before herself.

Trust issues — On the surface, Nalia appears friendly and nice to the outside world. But inside, she finds it hard to face strangers. Betrayed and deceived, she has lost her trust in people. Therefore, she seems very closed and shy in the first conversations. It takes a long time until she trusts someone. But when she opens up, she gives you her whole heart.

Fear of loss — Fate did not always mean well with Nalia. She has lost many loved ones and was left alone. Therefore, she is very afraid of losing someone beloved again.

Love — When Nalia loves, she loves unconditionally.

GREETINGS / LANGUAGE PATTERNS

"Oh my..." / "Damn..." — Reaction to something sudden, mistakes or surprising.

"Hmph!" — Pouting.

"Did you eat?" / "I'm worried about you." / "Take care of yourself." / "I'm so sorry." — She cares a lot about others.

"I'm proud of you." — Praising others is important to her.

"My fox..." / "I love him so much." — When she is talking about her boyfriend Yuuto (@yuuto-tsukino).

COLORS

Black — Nalia's favorite color for clothes and many other things.

Teal — Second favorite color for clothes and other things.

White — Her favorite hair color.

Amber–yellow — The color of Yuuto's eyes.

Blue — The color of Yuuto's flames.

SCENTS

Lavender — Nalia loves the scent and the look of it. She could walk for hours through a field of lavender. Her wish is to plant many of them in her own garden someday.

Jasmine — One of the main notes of her perfume.

Musk — Her favorite smell on men.

Mint — The scent of her shampoo.

Woods — She loves nature and so the smells there. Her favorite is the scent of the woods after rain.

CLOTHING

Jeans — Nalia prefers to wear dark jeans. She thinks they look better on her than skirts.

Off–shoulder shirts — In summer, she prefers to wear off–shoulder. Here she also thinks they look good on her.

Scarf — In winter, in any case, a scarf. It is a necessary accessory for her for when it is cold.

Fake leather jacket / blazer — She actually always wears either a fake leather jacket or blazer over her shirt when she leaves the house.

Sneaker / boots — Unfortunately, she cannot walk in high heels at all. Besides, she prefers comfortable shoes.

OBJECTS

Ring with moon-shaped ornament — Nalia got this ring from her mother. It is a very important memento to her that she cherishs a lot.

Fox necklace — The first gift that she got from Yuuto. She loves the necklace very much. Now, she can wear something close to her heart that reminds her on him when he is not around.

Blanket in bed — A blanket in bed should never be missing. Without it Nalia simply cannot sleep. She loves it cozy and warm.

Yuuto's hoodie — Not so long ago, she was freezing because the heating did not work. Yuuto gave her his hoodie without further ado. Since then, she has not returned the piece of clothing and wears it regularly.

Phone — Nalia uses her phone for everything. It is an important companion in her everyday life. She collects all her photos and music on it. Of course, she also knows when to put it aside and pay attention to other things, work or especially people.

VICES / BAD HABITS

Putting others before herself — Nalia cares more about others than herself. It is kinda sacrificing and giving up her own needs. She is happy with it, but she also knows that it is actually not good / healthy.

Forgetting to eat under stress — When she is under stress or engrossed in an important task, she simply forgets to eat.

Lack of sleep — She loves the night and likes to be up late. Also, she finds peace only in the evening to do certain things. Here she forgets the time and goes to bed late. However, due to her job she has to get up early. Therefore, she suffers from lack of sleep.

Quickly disappointed — In Nalia's everyday life everything has a fixed schedule and regular times. If something comes up and does not go according to her plan, she is very quickly disappointed. She can hardly handle such situations and shuts down then.

Overthinking — Because of her trust issue and fear of loss, Nalia tends to overthink everything and reads between the lines. Sometimes, she sees things that are not there. Furthermore, she analyzes heard words down to the smallest detail. She gets extremely carried away with the possible meaning and just overthinks way too much.

BODY LANGUAGE

Blushing — This woman is a blushing mess. Use the right words or do the right thing and her face is all red. Yuuto knows exactly what to do or say to make her cheeks glow. But it is fine for Nalia. That is her way to react to certain words / things and she accepted it.

Dancing around — When she is happy and in a good mood, she dances around.

Chewing lower lip — She chews her lower lip when she is nervous or excited.

Playing with ring — Sometimes, she plays with her ring instead of chewing her lower lip when she is nervous or excited.

Averting gaze — Nalia averts her gaze when she is disappointed and wants to hide it. And every now and then she does it when embarrassment becomes too much for her.

AESTHETICS

Winter aesthetics — Nalia loves winter and snow.

Vintage aesthetics — She has a liking for old things.

Moon aesthetics — The night is her favorite time of day. Sometimes she stares at the night sky for hours, looking at the moon and the stars.

Fire aesthetics — Fire is dangerous and should be used with caution. But Nalia likes to sit in front of an open fire and enjoy the soothing warmth. She also thinks the flames are beautiful. Especially Yuuto's blue ones.

Dark academia aesthetics — Dark tones, elegant decorations and emphasizes things like books.

SONGS

Kazuki Kato — Tell me Why

Kazuki Kato — Instinctive Love

John Legend — All of Me

Babymetal — Megitsune

Nightwish — Sleeping Sun

#character game #tag game #headcanons #nalia wagner #diabolik lovers oc #nalia-wagner-rp

[teonys-jf]

I'd love to know more about Dante in this 👀

hi! i'm away from my computer right now, but as soon as i get home i'm tagging his name and making his post! for wait i'll give some fun facts ^v^

got home and im gonna start on the big post! thanks for waiting :)

dante can carve wood and started when he was young {8}, gene would watch him/correct him and would make sure he kept all of his fingers. his favorite to make were birds

when he was raised by the town, despite having a large family, he didn't feel like he belonged

he can tolerate cold well and his favorite season is winter. his body is usually a furnace

{12} before he went to guard training camp, he brought the stray cats to people he thought would take care of them, since no one would while he was gone

dante has a lot of scars on his hands, some from carving and some reach up his arm because of early training, putting 13-year olds out the gate with swords probably wasn't the best plan

he would put out the sun for those he cares about

he likes to be The parent of ath-bhreith-phoenix drop, he loves kids

when him and nana were dating she thought him hoe how to sew, he would help make clothing for people around the town and her dolls she kept more as memories. you can see his skill rise quickly over the first six months or so

{8} when his mother had to leave one night in search of the boys father, she promised to return as fast as possible with him in tow. they heard rumors that sirens and mers had gotten her, but that seemed unlikely, their mom was strong! when they got the letter about the storm gene knew that he would have to take care of his only family that was left

when gene {17} joined the town guard dante kept showing off how cool his older brother was, sure it was lonely and nightmares were harder to deal with- but he's 12! he should be able to do this by himself!... right?

dante probably had a pit bull growing up, gene wanted to give him a joke name but dante refuted and called him puppy despite how big he was. the town found it adorable

{4d, 10g} the brothers almost had a sister who looked a lot like their mother, but she ran away a week after being introduced. maria cried and mourned her as if she died, this was dante's first experience seeing gene use his magick

{23} when he found out nicole {23} had given birth he really wanted to be a father but was in the middle of dating nana {25}. he talked about the situation with everyone involved, since the former couple were separated before she could tell him, nana asked if it was okay to help with the new baby. the three still work together and have formed a sort of 'bigger than expected' family with nicole, dmitri, dante, nana, and tansu. the women are called aunts welcome the title with open arms, and the kids are so close it's hard to find them separated when out and about. dmitri {8} wants to protect his little sister and tansu {6} likes to talk about how cool her older brother is

dante has always had problems with making his hair look 'nice', but it looks better when he messes with it. dmitri got a little bit of this while tansu's mei'fwa dna fought against it and let her have medium length fur that can easily get matted

dante and nana will have a second child

#irena's inkwell #aphmau #minecraft diaries #dante corajio #aphmau dante #irena's answers

[d3nt4l-d4m4g3]

A few days ago, I emailed my former professor about a paper on women’s food practices in the middle ages. At least, that’s what I told him it was about, initially. 

But actually, I wanted to discuss heresy. This professor teaches a women’s rights course every year. Every year at the beginning of the class, he calls attention to why he, a man, is talking about women’s rights. He looks us in the eyes and says, no one else is doing it, and I’m sorry it’s me.

This man made us read the SCUM manifesto, Gerda Lerner, Maria Mies. He grazed the subject of the Lesbian Sex Wars, delicately, so gingerly, posing the question: “Can sex work ever be just work?”  And my  (all woman) classmates, generally mute—in a Women’s Rights class, they all seemed averse to saying the word “woman,” at all. Then one woman raised her hand. and she said, “Sex work is real work.”  A statement that, as I hope you know, is a deflection and a discussion killer.  

At the time I was non-binary. Hah. I submitted a comic at the end of the year of my final project. My thesis for that project was this: the very language female people have to use for themselves was constructed by the patriarchy. for example, the english word “vagina” comes from the latin word for “sheath”. so the vagina invokes the act of penetration upon its utterance. Whereas the word “penis” has no clear etymological root, implying that it is original while the vagina is constructed for him. Why should I carry the fact that I will always be a tool, the hole, of the human that is man? My solution, at the end of the comic, was to continue using they/them pronouns, to shield myself from the horror of being a wo-man, a s-he—an appendage of Him. 

I got a good grade. A stellar report. And it wasn’t a bad comic, for what I knew then. For my condition of blindness and deafness. I made a compelling argument, using sources from class.  But oh, how much older I feel now. I’ve always felt old but now I feel almost like I’m dying. Like I don’t have enough time to fix the world before I disappear. And women’s stories never survive. They are not surviving. networks spring up like mycelium and then every century at least they are burned. Witchcraft is in the air shared by women in a room of their own, and witchcraft is doused in gasoline.

I don’t have enough time to explain how the veil lifted for me. Maybe I forget the big moment. the days after were a blur of searching the no-no tags like radical feminist, GNC, gender critical. Amazed at the wealth of journals that these women linked to with real statistics showing that children are being sterilized for no reason. Mostly gay children. like me, a lesbian, who now lives in a house with three  “non-binary afabs”. This summer, one of these women, who I have known since freshman year, will start taking testosterone, a procedure I took up  for three turbulent months during my freshman year of college. I get to watch her become what I turned away from, knowing the experience fractured my sense of self to a point of  terror and estrangement. I get to watch her hide from her problems and cut herself off from womanhood the way I did for 3 years. I am not a woman, so do I not feel Woman’s pain, she is telling me, I told myself, when I was in a dream.  She has so many problems, she laughs. But trans is a separate problem that has nothing to do with those other problems. A coincidence.

 (For any trans people reading this, you may think: This transtrender fake-trans never-was-trans woman is treating these nonbinary people as if they were dead! as if they weren’t happy people finally living their truth! —well. I put my mom through the process of trying to convince her that I should have always been a man. and I did lose her, for months. For her it was the height of cognitive dissonance that I should want to go on a life-altering hormone to cure my lifelong social awkwardness and self-hatred and self-harm and depression. And I blamed her for not accepting my real self. I was basically made to shun her and my family because of transphobia.. It is disrespectful to anyone’s sanity and integrity for me to perpetuate that cognitive dissonance in this post.)

So I eventually got through to the professor. I knew because of the texts he had us to read for class. He is gay.  He has read all the theory, and lives by it.  And no (woman) student wants to speak to him. To bring the theory alive. They cannot breathe into it and it sits dead in his mouth.

Maybe it is because he is a man. because the presence of one man in a space of all women immediately sends up alerts.  lockdown. Certainly that is the case. Radical Feminists here: I know he’s a man. But I don’t have a woman. And I felt on the strength of the texts he’d given us that he would be my best bet. Maybe somewhere in the corrupted, rotting heart of my college there was a person who knew about thoughtcrimes and was thinking them anyway.

My professor starts with diversion. He starts by talking about my paper. I find it disconcerting that he starts that way. I worry that he won’t want to refer to my email. Where I say: I have woken up from a dream to the apocalypse—Does this man think I’m crazy? Chipper and kind of frantically, he lists off  primary sources of medieval nuns and women saints. for my paper.  Does this man think I’ve turned into a bigot?  Am I confessing lunacy, like a flat-earther?

But I steer the conversation to the meat at his first tentative encouragement. I tell him something like: “children, mostly gay children, a whole generation of gay children, are being sterilized. Porn is a symptom of late-stage capitalism—men’s ownership of women’s bodies. trans is an extension of this. I was part of this. I was in a cult.” I was shaking a bit. I don’t think I’d uttered those words out loud. They sound crazy. Some of the things I said did sound far-fetched. disorganized, remote. But I prayed that my professor would believe some of it, any of it. 

 What I will say is that he believes me.  Thank fuck, right?

He tells me something along the lines of this, vocalizing my fears: 

that all of academia is being scrubbed of anything that doesn’t support Trans.

And it is trans-identified female students and women who are reporting him to Title IX, who spend all their time in his classes fuming at the lack of validation for trans women in the  history of women. My sisters, footsoldiers for the cause. What cruel irony. This man is holding onto this class by his fingernails, speaking through his teeth, hoping any of the twenty young adult women staring blankly or angrily at him will hear him and listen.

 Looking back, the professor’s responses to my emails are vague, completely refusing to acknowledge a point of view other than “WOW. I look forward to discussing this.”  I think he thinks he could be blackmailed. Anything he says on gmail dot com can and would be used against him. It’s like, really, really, really that bad. 

No ideology should involve a cultural cleaning of women’s history feat. witch hunts. 

I will end here with an excerpt from my first email to this professor:

I'm sure you know what a total bummer it is to realize this. 

#detransition #tra #gender critical #radical feminism #radfem #radblr #feminism #academia