#this whole time I was sitting here drawing the update

[somerandomdudelmao]

Are you questioning your existence right now? Seeing how people starts to help out of blue? Can you feel it~? *dancing to the music*

IM QUESTIONING IT SO INTENSE YOU HAVE NO IDEA

#every time #EVERY TIME I THINK OKAY IM COLLECTED NOW #MY PHONE DOES BZZZ BZZZZ NEW DONATION ALERT #AND IM LOOZING MY MIND ALL OVER AGAIN JDNDBDJD #this whole time I was sitting here drawing the update #and like #every time my phone vibrated #my braing goes #holy fuck some person loves your silly pics THAT MUCH #HSHDBDJSKDNFGFJFKF

[zeijia]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 II. EVERYONE GETS A TURN .ᐟ

info; you're Isagi Yoichi's girlfriend, who also had done a dirty deed with his friends. Today, you meet more of his friends <3

STARRING ; MICHAEL KAISER, MIKAGE REO, KARASU TABITO && OTOYA EITA, OLIVER AIKU, ++ ISAGI YOICHI !

cw. oral, bondage (handcuffs), use of blindfold, edging, exhibitionism, fingering, double penetration (anal && vaginal, EITA && KARASU), doggy, spanking, dumbification, degration, praise, cheating, mentions of stalking [KAISER'S PART], filming . AFAB!Reader

🖇 side note . I only changed the bonus scene / isagi's part , besides that, everything remained unchange . i physically, mentally, INTELLECTUALLY, whole heartedly, could not with the angst i had in mind when i first wrote this <\3 . changed that, though ! ;P

I. LET'S MEET THE OTHER FOUR !

Ever since your whole secret affair that's not so secret with Isagi's friend group, you found out they all knew except for Isagi himself that you've slept with all of them at least once. So, it took you by surprise when Isagi introduced you to his other set of friends, and some are not so considered as his friends.

MICHAEL KAISER was a surprise. You've least expected this one, and he least expected you, too. You knew Kaiser, as Isagi had told you about him once or twice, on how annoying he was on field, how he's such a cocky german bastard, and how he's over all a jerk. So it caught you off guard when someone called over to your boyfriend, and there he was, a tall figure with blonde hair and blue streaks. You noticed the rivalry despite being out of the soccer field, and you noticed how Isagi got extra possessive with you once he noticed that Kaiser was staring at you. Michael seemed to be.. amused with you. He found you cute, someone who didn't deserve to be with a medium average guy like Isagi, or so he thinks. He truly found your presence something else, and he was rather intrigued by it.

He had Ness search about you, stalk your socials, and literally get bits of information from you with your instagram posts, twitter updates, and all of your other social media accounts. You were lucky enough to have some of them privated, you're unaware that a bastard was stalking you. So, it caught you off guard once you noticed a familiar tall guy enter the cafè you're at. Michael Kaiser. He's.. he's here. You thought to yourself that it was just a coincidence, but little did you know that Michael saw your twitter update last night saying you're going out to this cafè.

"Oh? What a surprise. Yoichi's girlfriend." He smiled, looking at you with the same friendly (which is not so friendly at the same time) grin he gives Isagi. "Mind if I sit here? The place's too crowded." He questioned you, and you let him sit in the opposite direction of your seat. Though, it was rather awkward, but you aren't gonna lie, you'd take him too if he was willing.

Lucky for you, he was actually willing. He asked for your number, which he already knew, after meeting at the cafè and you gladly gave him your number. It didn't take long before he started being flirty over text. Sending you random updates, pickup lines, inviting you over to his place some time, and all of that stuff. So, you agreed to take a stop over by his house, and somehow, you're handcuffed and blindfolded, with only your panties left and having no idea on what Michael has planned for you. 

"Look at you, all hopeless and pathetic." He commented, and you felt his hand trace chest, giving a few squeeze at your nipple which you would whine over, he was teasing you. You felt his hand draw lower, going with the curve of your waist, and dipping lower to your sex. "Hmm.. what should I do with you?" He stated out loud, he sounded sarcastic, and you whined. "Just touch me already, Kaiser..!" You whined, and he scoffed in return. "What an impatient bitch you are." He commented, but he was quick to discard your panties, and rubbing in a few circles on your folds. "Yoichi should've disciplined you better. Perhaps.. he doesn't at all?" He taunted you. You tried to stay silent, you had no awareness of the surroundings, or what he might do next. "Awh, though, I don't blame Yoichi for not disciplining you," he continued on, speeding up his fingers, and then giving your clit a spank. You whined at this, "maybe I should discipline you." He smirked, pushing you over making you lay down on the bed, and you felt warm tongue lick your folds. "I'll edge you over and over until you're finally back in your place, you good for nothing slut." He grunted, before diving back in your pretty cunt, making you see stars. His tongue felt so good, he knew how to use that stupid tongue of his. Maybe that was the only good purpose of his mouth.

You felt hopeless, though. Your hands were handcuffed, and his hands had a death grip on your thighs, spreading your legs all for him, not allowing you to close them. "I wonder what Yoichi would do if he finds out his bimbo girlfriend's having fun with his rival?" He pestered in between his kisses to your clit. "Shut it- ah!" you moaned, as you felt him licking and sucking back on your folds. You wanted to hate him as much as your boyfriend hated him, but you just couldn't. Not with him making you feel so good. He continued flicking on your abused clit, and his two fingers were inside your hole that was desperate for attention. This went on for a few more minutes, and your moans and whines were audible. He also bickered nonstop, degrading you to your fullest extent. He was harsher than all of his (yoichi)'s friends that you've slept with. And you were loving it.

"Ah! mngh.. Micha! 'm gonna- haah.. 'm gonna cum!" you said in between your moans, you felt yourself nearing your peak, and you wanted to come undone and get this over with. "Not gonna happen, you good for nothing bitch." he quickly removed his tongue from your clit, removing his fingers from your hole, and you felt empty. You were disappointed and frustrated that you didn't get to reach your high. "Wha- why'd you do that, Micha..!" You probed, your voice sounding whiny as you were so annoyed that he pulled away just when you were about to cum. "I told you, greedy cockslut, I won't let you cum. I'll discipline you until you know your place."

MIKAGE REO who was Nagi's best friend. Yoichi didn't introduce you to him, but Nagi did. You met up with Reo when Nagi invited you to the arcade with Isagi. Reo's a.. wealthy man. He really was- like, filthy rich. He spent money on you like it was nothing. Whenever you'd waste your tokens and get nothing, he would just buy another few thousand tokens and let you play again on the vending machine, but that certainly did not happen as Isagi ended up getting the stuff toy for you. You were hopeless with the vending machines. Reo could spend thousands on tokens, and you still won't be able to grab at least one plushie. He would often just laugh at you and your goofy actions at the arcade, but one thing he took seriously was whenever he'd get a glimpse of your panties at the arcade. Whenever you'd bend down to grab the prize from the vending machine, he'd step right behind you to prevent others from seeing your pretty panties, but to also only let himself be the only one to see your panties that easily traced your clit.

And needless to say, yes, it's wrong to do this to your friend's girlfriend, but what could be the harm, right? He was just helping you and preventing your panties from being seen by others. Atleast, that's what he tells himself. But deep down, he knows he has an ulterior motive. And he did not want to admit that, not at all. He has always been a reserved man, a man with manners, and a man who's been taught proper etiquette since birth, however, as of now, he's acting like some teenage boy who's never felt the touch of a girl. He was embarrassed of himself and felt guilty, so, he invited you for karaoke and dinner. Ofcourse, he invited Isagi, Nagi, and the other guys to hang out. 

So when you two were sitting right next to each other on the dinner table, your friends and Isagi's friends all told him to sit the opposite direction of you to make it more 'romantic.' So he did just that. You two were both at the inner seat, facing each other, and Reo sat right next to you. You didn't mind, at all. The dinner went casual, everyone blabbering about soccer, asking about personal life, making jokes, and all of that stuff. If you were being honest, you were actually quite bored. It's not that you expected a lot from a casual dinner, but it's just that they were mostly focused on soccer and soccer just wasn't your fortè. You were beginning to get rather bored, but luckily for you, you're sitting right next to Mikage Reo, who'll entertain you and you'll never get bored with him. You sensed a big hand placed on your inner thigh, and a thumb stroking it. You looked down and saw Reo's hand. He continued to stroke your thigh for a few minutes, before his hand dropped down under your skirt, finding your panty. You detected a finger on your clit, and you looked at Reo. He looked back, and whispered something in your ear.

"Can you keep quiet, y/n?" He teasingly asked, a cheeky grin following after before he looked back to his friends, continuing the conversation as his fingers were rubbing onto your folds. "What the fuck, Reo.." you tugged onto his arm, and whispered that into his ear. You could easily get caught here, this was risky. Moreover, his hand still continued to persist in your folds, tugging your panty to the side, and inserting two fingers down your cunt. You bit the inside of your mouth, not allowing yourself to let out a sound. Isagi was literally just in front of you, and there was no way you'd let him find out what Reo was doing to you right now.

"Oh, yeah, Y/n, how did you and Isagi meet?" Kurona, who's Isagi's soccer partner at Bastard Münched, asked you. Your shoulders tensed up, and you gave him a half smile before answering. Reo ended up going faster, curling his fingers inside your pussy. "Ah.. erm, well, we met during.. uh, back in high.. um, highschool!" you exclaimed, you barely managed to conceal your moans, and Reo chuckled at your answer. Though, Isagi had his suspicions. "Are you okay, love?" Isagi pondered. This was wrong, Isagi's right in front of you concerned if you're feeling alright, but his friend is literally fingering your pussy just under the table, making you see stars. Your pussy clenched and tightened around Reo's fingers once Isagi asked, Reo took this as a hint that you got more aroused, and proceeded to continue with his pace, hitting and curling on a specific spot that made you want to crumble down your knees and just moan like some bitch in heat.

"Ah.. yeah! 'm okay, yoichi..!" you answered. Isagi only nodded, and you looked at Reo, sending him a glare, and Reo smirked before whispering something in your ear once more. "That turned you on, no? does the thrill turn you on further?" He pestered, his tone being menacingly seductive. You bit down your lower lip, this definitely turned you on. The thrill of doing this in public, the thrill that you could get caught any time soon made you feel your release earlier. A new found kink, a kink you never expected you'd have. Your thighs pressed shut together as you felt your release coming soon. Reo quickened up his fingers' pace, and allowed you to reach your high. Your walls squeezed his fingers inside you, and you made a mess on the seat and on Reo's fingers. Your hands were fisting on your skirt, and you tried not to let any noise squeal out your mouth. Somehow and successfully, you orgasmed without your boyfriend finding out. Reo then grabbed a tissue from his bag, and handed some to you to clean the seat up in secret without anyone finding out. Your thighs were shaking, though.

KARASU TABITO was a guy your boyfriend introduced to you and you honestly thought he was a playboy. Why? Because his best friend, OTOYA EITA, was always seen with a new girl every day. Many thought Karasu would be influenced by Otoya, but shockingly, no. He's not a play boy like his buddy over there. When Isagi first introduced you to them, Karasu was actually shy to talk to you. He felt mediocre because you literally were just the cutest. The fact that you were his type made him more embarrassed to just talk to you. Karasu tried his best to minimize conversations, avoid you if possible, but at the same time, remain calm and friendly. While Otoya on the other hand, shamelessly hitted up on you in front of Isagi. When he first saw you, he already had a pick up line ready for you. However, Isagi got protective over you and tried (keyword: tried) to get you away from Otoya. Otoya claimed it was a joke, because he wouldn't want a pretty girl out of his sight.

Eita and Karasu were often a duo, they would be seen together most times whenever Yukimiya Isn't around. Great minds think alike, right? There was one night where Karasu and Otoya were playing video games and Yukimiya was asleep, Otoya randomly brought you up as the topic. Otoya rambled on about how lucky Isagi is for having a pretty girl stuck to him like glue, but Karasu remained silent. He was.. well, he was shy. Even with just mentioning you up, he would get all flustered and embarrassed. Despite his tall figure, amazing physique, who knew he could be like a teenage girl in love? He honestly felt mediocre.

"I think I have a crush on her, Eita." Karasu blurted out in the call, and Otoya laughed in response. "Then take her away from Isagi! It's that simple!" Otoya chimed in on the call, but there was no way Karasu could do that. There was no way he would steal a friend's girlfriend.

So why, why are you here, riding on Otoya's cock and taking Karasu from behind? Well, this all started with Otoya's dumb idea to invite you guys over to his place. He said and claimed he just needed you to style him like how girls want a guy to look like, and Karasu to take photos for his Instagram. But that all ended up with you on top of Otoya, your pussy taking and gripping on his cock while Karasu was behind you, fucking up your ass. "Can't- can't..! Too- haah.. ngh! s'too much..!" You protested and moaned whilst Otoya jolted his hips upward and Karasu slowly thrust his dick on your ass. "I'm sure you can, you cocksleeve." Otoya murmured, stroking your hair as his other hand pressed on your waist. Karasu on the other hand prepped kisses on your neck, not leaving a hickey cause Isagi might find out and they'd heavily be in danger.

"right, Karasu? Our little slut here can surely take both of us in, ah- shit," otoya groaned, feeling your pussy tighten up on his dick as he slowed down his pace on thrusting up on your cunt. "You're so goddamned tight." He commented. "Ah.. right, yeah, she can take us." Karasu slowly agreed, before giving your ass a spank. Oh how long Karasu wanted to do this. He wanted this moment badly. You winced at the sharp feeling of pain registering, and you whined. Your mind was becoming cock drunk of Otoya thrusting up in your abused pussy, and Karasu wrecking your asshole. You felt like some sex toy, like a fleshlight. "Ah shit, keep on tightening up like that, ngh, and I might, ah- fuck, I might cum." Otoya grunted as he sped up, along with Karasu also fastening up to match Otoya's rhythm. Their cocks were in sync, one goes out, and the other goes in. Your mind was becoming a mess, loud moans and whimpers coming out of your lips as the two made a slut out of you, making you go dumb on both their cocks. "I'm gonna- fuck, cum, you can take it, right? you can sureeeely take my cum inside you." Karasu moaned in your ear, and you nodded in response. You're too dumb to think, tears pooling down at your face, moans and whines of nonsense coming out of your pathetic mouth. It didn't take long before you orgasmed down on Otoya's cock, which he soonly followed after, filling your cute pussy up to the brim. Karasu pulled out and gave his cock a few strokes, jerking it off and cumming right on your ass cheeks, making a dirty sight on your back.

The two pulled out and rested you down on Otoya's bed, and Karasu grinned as they looked at you, your eyes shut tight, your hands gripping on the sheets, and you were left panting. "Nice view, ain't it, Eita?" "Psh, I could get used to this."

OLIVER AIKU whom your boyfriend also considered as a playboy. He looked like he was in his 30s. You refused to believe it at first when he said he was just 19. But you wont lie to yourself, he looked reaaaallyyyyy attractive. The first time he saw you, he thought Isagi had invited a random chick to hang out with. Turns out, he was heavily mistakened and Isagi had to be on guard with him all the time whenever you're around. Oliver wouldn't deny the fact you were stunning, no, you were drop dead gorgeous in his eyes. He wanted to make you one of the girls he keeps for company. You seemed like the sweet type, and he wanted to ruin you. To corrupt that mind of yours, little does he know you've already been corrupted a long time ago, but still. You looked so cute in his vision, walking and running around with that short skirt of yours and that blouse that Oliver wanted to rip apart. He never thought he would have the opportunity to have a taste of you, that is until he saw you in the local bar, drinking all by yourself without your boyfriend. 

He wondered, what could a girl, a pretty girl like you be doing here in a bar? Do you not know the dangers of going alone without someone to protect you? There were alot of bastards, so why aren't you with anyone? He then made his way and sat right next to you at the counter and silently looked at you, you noticed his presence and looked right back at him. You were caught off guard that one of Yoichi's friends would be here. "O-Oh! Aiku, hello." You waved at him, nervously. "Hello, yoichi's girl. Why are you here?" He questioned, thinking of all the possibilities of why you were all alone. "Yoichi and I .. we had a little misunderstanding," you sighed, Bachira was busy, and he wasn't there to 'comfort' you so you went to the nearest bar to let yourself go for a moment and block out everyone. "Doesn't seem that little to me." Aiku opined, looking at your figure who seemed to be sober. "Whatever it is.. I'm too tired to fix it right now, maybe I just need to figure things out first." You continued further, swinging your feet back and forth. 

"You shouldn't be out here all alone." Oliver got up, going down from his seat and looking at you. "You should go home already, or if you're not ready to see that egoist stricker yet, you can stay at my place." He offered, and ofcourse, who were you to decline that? You needed a place to stay at and you refused to look at Isagi or even go home. So you took his offer. Maybe your perspective of him has changed, maybe he's not so bad. Maybe he's here to genuinely comfort you, maybe he's.. maybe he's different from Isagi's other friends.

Wrong. Very, very, very wrong. He was no different at all. You thought he would be sincere and genuinely comfort you, right? Why did you even expect that from a playboy in the first place? Here you are, your ass up in the air and your face buried down on the pillows. "Aiku.. please." You sobbed from the pillows, you were vulnerable. "You're impatient, baby." He stated before pressing his dick on your folds. You turned your head and looked over to him, he had the cockiest grin you've ever seen from anyone else you fucked with. You whined, getting impatient. "Geez, fine, fine." He sighed, before entering your pussy in one go to teach you a lesson. Your eyes opened wide, a loud and long moan came out from your lips when he bottomed out just like that. The pain was something, but it also felt so.. good. He was big.

"Aww, look." He coos, placing a hand on your tummy that had a bulge of his dick. "You're.. you're too- mph- too big..!" You squealed when he pressed his hand on the bulge of his dick on your stomach. "Yeah yeah, you asked for this, didn't ya?" He scoffed, before starting to slowly thrust in and out of your pussy. His dick covered in your slit, and a white ring on the base of his cock. He was so big, and it made you feel so full. "Do you like it? Yeah? Fuck, you like being fucked like this?" He asked, his hands gripping on your waist to keep you steady and you were already crying on the sheets. "yes, yes, yes, hngh, ah! fuck, sooooo good.." you moaned out, his dick hits a certain spot that makes you see stars every time.

He filled you up so well, it felt right to have his dick inside your pussy. His pace was getting faster and faster, and getting harsher than before. Your moans and sobs filled the room, and Oliver was enjoying this moment. Hearing your stupid desperate pleads for more and moaning his name like some prayer, it felt amazing. You didn't differ from all the other girls he's slept with before, but you felt better than most of 'em. Your warm pussy gripping him so tight, it wouldn't let go of his dick and just kept sucking him back in. What a nasty whore you really are. His hand suddenly slapped your ass, and you moaned loudly when he did that. "Oh? You like that? Are you a masochist?" he teased, before grabbing both of your hands to your back and pulling you upwards as he continued to mercilessly pound on your cunt from behind. "Look at your expression, it's adorable." He kissed your neck, before letting go of both of your hands and placing his hand on your neck to keep you steady, choking you.

"Haah..! Fuck, oliveeer.. !!" you whined out as you felt your mind go hazy as he choked you, and a smirk was on his face as you cried out. Your walls gripped on him, tightening up as your peak was coming. "Fuck, go, milk my cock." He instructed, and you were quick to do as he says, milking on his cock. Cumming straight onto his cock as he soon followed afterwards, painting your walls white. You felt him let go of your throat and a long moan of his name left your mouth as you orgasmed, and your body falling back on his bed. 

Both of you were left panting and breathing for air, as his thumb stroked your ass. “You're so.. fuck, you did amazing.”

BONUS SCENE !!

ISAGI YOICHI, your boyfriend, wasn’t all dumb and oblivious. Ofcourse, he knew deep down inside how you were sleeping with his friends. 

He knew that you were literally being tossed around in his circle of friends and being used as some cum dumpster.

He knew about this– it all started when he noticed how often his friends would ask you to a simple “hangout” and whenever you’d come back home, you'd always say you’re too tired and have him baby you all day.

He noticed how often your panties would have cum stains that weren’t yours– neither his. 

Isagi had to teach you a lesson, and even his friends. He knows you’ll always come back crawling to him. That’s why you’re being fucked by his cock from behind, and to your embarrassment and humiliation, being recorded.

Isagi was drilling his cock in your pussy, all while filming it. It felt so humiliating, but the feeling of his cock made you lose all sense of self respect.

“you’re such a fuckin’ whore, aren’t you, baby?” isagi groaned as he bent down to whisper that to your ear, still keeping the phone aimed at your pretty pussy. 

“you’ll always– fuck, come back t’me, right?” he scoffed, while all you could do was whine and mewl under him. “use your words, you slut.” he demanded, and you did your best to please him.

“mmph– ah! yes, fuck– always g’nna go back to you, ichi, haaahnh– feels so good!” you moaned from behind, shamelessly. If you were still stable, you’d definitely never get the courage to say that so damn loud, but Jesus, Isagi’s cock was all too much for you.

“turn around, baby, wanna see your pretty face.” he commanded, and you did just that, fixing your position as isagi grabbed the phone, showing the state you were in to the camera before hammering again inside you.

Your tits bounced rhythmically to his thrusts and your tears pooling down to your cheeks.

“so damn pretty like that.” isagi chuckled, but his soft demeanor differed from how hard he fucked your sweet cunt.

“love you– ah! love you, ichi–!” you mewled, trying to hide your face but you knew it just wouldn’t lead to something good, not with isagi.

“heh, love you too, sweetheart.” he said in a low groan, before pulling out and jerking his cock off in a fast pace

Your pussy twitched as his tip rested on your clit, and not long after, he came all over your lower abdomen and pussy, spurting his white seed all over you.

“pose for the camera, baby.” he says, his tone much sweeter now. Maybe a hard fuck had helped a little to his feelings.

You only whined, before hiding your face which earned a laugh from him. “love you, yoichi.” you voiced out, not caring about the camera.

He stopped filming from there, and placed his phone right beside his side of the bed before lowering himself to the sheets, and laying right beside you, kissing your face all over. 

He smiled at you, Isagi was still upset over you basically cheating on him, but could he really resist you?

“get some rest, baby.” he replies, before pulling you to a hug, your face snuggled on his chest as you hugged him back.

after a while, he heard soft snoring from you, as you had completely fallen asleep.

However, Isagi wasn’t done, fun had just begun.

he slowly got up, grabbed his phone, sent the whole video of you being fucked dumb by him to his groupchat with his friends (who you’ve 100% slept with)  

“sorry losers, she’s still mine”

© zeijia . do not copy/steal, translate, modify my work ! MDNI .

#bllk x you #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #bllk x reader #blue lock smut #bllk #michael kaiser smut #mikage reo smut #oliver aiku smut #karasu tabito #otoya eita smut #isagi yoichi smut

[critterbitter]

HELLO HI ID LIKE TO ASK WHAT PROGRAM AND BRUSHES YOU USE CUZ IM LITTERALY EXPLODING EVERYTIME I SEE YOUR ART

actually actually... *pulls out whole stack of paper*...I have. a FEW,, a good few,, questions to ask. they are not many I swear 😇

OK SO FIRST OF ALL HOW DO YOU DRAW SO FAST???? everyday I log onto Tumblr I always see something new from you and I get very very happy. But then I start to question my own existence because not even I CAN SPEED RUN ART LIKE THAT. AND SO SPECTACULARLY TOO

Last question! how do you color and make it look so well?? just. How. I need to know. This is a CRY FOR HE-

anyway thank you for being one of my favorite artists that always feed my brain rot, pls keep making amazing art because like a little yamper I will follow behind and stay updated.

(Stands there)

Response and thoughts under cut!

First question! What art program I use!

Mostly procreate, along with a handful of brushes! (Specifically the Jing Set and some custom stuff, which is really just a circle brush with the shape changed to a square.)

Second question! How do i draw so much!

Okay so. I am. Ahhah. Unemployed,,,,? No, I do freelance illustration, but hmm. A studio job would be nice.

i graduated college last year and I’m very used to eight hour art shifts. The body sort of remembers to keep working, even though I no longer have storyboards or visdev homework to do.

Also. The hyperfixation is a deep vast tunnel I STILL have not seen the end of the light to, good golly. (I have dreams now about the kids committing shenanigan crimes. I wake up in cold sweat and write them down in a journal. It’s like being the mouthpiece to an angry god.)

So the overall gist is: I was trained to be a storyboard artist with a visdev background, and I’m using that higher education to draw funny muppets because my brain’s funny.

I also DO have a queue, and I’ve been treating this as a sort of inktober project. I am definitely going to slow down soon though! Maybe. Hopefully. Ah… (sheepishly drops my kofi here)

Third question! How do i color!

I. I, uh. I dont know man the coloring demons have a grip on my soul and i just go along for the ride. But also, if it helps, i prefer to limit my pallets to only a few colors at a time. Lighting is king, so if you can figure out if you want to focus on either on your lights or shadows, you’ll have a much easier time composing. That, and symbolic colors— idk, something hits different about art drenched in gold with a tiny hint of a man staring into the blinding horizon, or a green leafy environment with a single dot of artificial red. I also like using blue and purple for shadows, and I’m a big fan of muting colors with only one or two that pop— one of the reasons why I was so attracted to submas in the first place is because from a design aesthetic, they’re both super funny muppet men AND really cool train guys that have a limited pallet and thematic apparel.

Overall response! THANK YOU SO MUCH. This goes out to a BUNCH of people who sent me inbox queries— sorry for not responding, it’s a tad overwhelming because some of them are story questions even I don’t really know will go yet, and others are words of praise and I’m selfish and like scrolling through the inbox to look at them when I feel down. I am more of an artist who sits in the corner and sprouts like a potato rather then a branching vine who socializes, but I really do see people’s responses and they make me go :)))))

Okay ramble over. Thanks for coming to the soapbox, and good luck on creating!

#critterbitter #ask #mailbox

[codgod]

y’know generally i try to limit colour palettes to as few colours as possible to make things more cohesive but despite my best efforts only jay ended up being able to stick to that </3

ANYWAYS here’s the as-of-right-now fully updated designs for these dickheads. these will no doubt undergo even more tweaking as i draw them more but this is a start i guess. also pls open the pictures to look at them properly i worked so hard LOL

some random notes under the cut yaaaay

chip —

he jingles when he walks. somehow he’s still stealthy. i do not know how

kept the platinum ring that bonded him to gillion in the block! because hey he doesn’t really have a reason to take it off (and it’s a nice reminder of how much gill cares about him, and how far their friendship has come since that ice arena)

his tattoos shift and flicker like actual flames, and sometimes (harmless, purely aesthetic) sparks fly off them when he’s excited

i just think smoke coming out of his mouth when he’s angry would be cool :]

chipped teeth from biting rocks and coins all the time :/

he has scars from the red lightning, they’re just mostly contained to his back and shoulders. they’re a similar red to his coat even once they’ve healed

gillion —

the tail sleeve thing is so he can rest it on the ground without damaging his scales, he doesn’t usually wear it when he’s just on the ship because the wood is soft enough that it’s usually fine + it can hinder swimming a bit. it’s mostly meant for places where there’s cobblestone or gravel streets and such. i think his armour would probably have a version that looks similar but covers the whole tail minus the fins, maybe with some armour plating of its own. i didn’t draw it because there wasn’t any room lol

his scars from the lightning are pink mostly because red stood out too much tbh. they softly glow in the dark the same as his coral and the pink parts of his fins

also kept his ring! his hands aren’t really made for jewellery, though, because the webbing means it won’t sit very secure on his finger. so he keeps it on the same chain as the necklace he got from aslana to keep it safe

tried to make him look a bit bulkier and more his age than in my original design? i feel like i was leaning too much into the naivety and. shortness. originally lol. he also has thicker eyebrows now and i’m still trying to decide how i feel about them but i think? i like it? i don’t tend to give many character thin eyebrows so it could’ve been a unique thing for him but alas

i think i made the sword too small but like ignore that

also forgor to include pretzel </3 that’s okay though she can get her own design sheet later. she’s special like that

jay —

i believe in tall jay supremacy

blue magic! i was considering gold but that’d look a bit more like a canary than i wanted for her wings so. blue jay :]

her hair is supposed to look kinda like fire to mimic her dad ! kinda showing that even if she runs from her family and the navy they’ll always be a part of her. and also i just like drawing messy hair

i gave her sturdier gloves just because i feel like it fits her better. also changed up the shirt to more of a button up solely because i don’t like tank tops very much LOL

i did WANT to make her outfit a bit flashier to match the boys better but i couldn’t quite figure out where to Put the flash. maybe that’ll come later, the way the story’s going i might get to design some cool prosthetics for her or something

overall —

because there’s just so many fucking colours i triiied to add at least one or two colours from each of them into the others designs. jay has her necklace with each of their main colours on it, her wings are the same blue as gillions eyes, her jacket and right eye are the same dark blue as destiny’s blade, her hair is the same orange as the lighter part of chips tattoos. chip has a dark green sash under all the belts, the same as the hilt of destiny’s blade. they all use the same shades of black, gold, and brown

the only real exception is gillion doesn’t have anything from the other two because he has Such a specific colour palette and he already had so much going on as-is orz jay was obviously the easiest to do this with because she has both warm and cool colours in her palette by default lol (and i did her design last, so that helps)

#.png #jrwi #jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi chip #gillion tidestrider #jay ferin #jrwi spoilers #THEYRE FINALLY DONE zoo wee mama #the lines are thicker on the little armour drawings because i did the sketch thing and then went yk what. good enough. and just coloured tha #also got rid of gills button nose it was too annoying to draw #i’m so used to straight and aquiline noses #another thing that could’ve been unique for him in terms of my character designs #but nah #pls ignore that i drew them all standing on diff planes/angles btw i wasn’t trying very hard w that #weirdly proud of myself for managing to give them all pretty unique profiles #that’s normally something i kinda get stuck on. drawing people from the side #in different ways besides nose shape

[covetyou]

some good friend - pt. 1

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3

pairing: Tim Rockford x Soft Dom!Sex Worker!f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: pegging, anal fingering, praise kink, mild glove kink, very mild feminization, masturbation, Tim has body image issues and a bit of an identity crisis, kind of coming untouched, sex work, comfort word count: 7k summary: Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it. And it made him nervous.

A/N: finally, my boy Tim sees the light of day. I've been working on this for a while, and it's been nice to try something a little different. I hope you like it (and someone, anyone, please, stop me from making this a 3 part series too late, it's going to be a series)

divider by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Everything burns. His lungs, his legs, his goddamned feet.

He wasn't made for this. Not any more. His fucking shoes definitely weren't made for this - a fact made more and more obvious with every harsh, sharp, slap of his soles against the ground. Gone were the days of intense foot chases. They'd long since been replaced with hours spent at his desk, in interview rooms, searching the stacks in the archive room. The only saving grace was at the very least he was accustomed to low light - the dimly lit rooms he frequented coming in handy now as he thuds along in the semi-darkness, chasing after someone who is more shadow than man.

The drizzle of a cold October day certainly isn't helping either. He's coated in a fine mist of rain and soaked through to the marrow. His shoes - these fucking shoes - skid on the wet road, threatening injury with each turn of a corner. Every intake of breath blooms pain in his chest, each gasp seeming to draw in more water than air. That is, of course, if the biting chill of the wind doesn't swipe it all out of his mouth first.

He's drowning. Drowning and suffocating and burning all in one, but he can't stop. He can't will his legs to stop, even through the burn. Stopping means he loses, and he cannot lose. Not again. Not with this case.

But then, he turns a corner and the shadow is gone, faded into the darkness of an unlit alley, and out of his grasp once again.

Shit.

The ache is settled well into his bones by the time he gets home in the early hours of the morning. His tie sits damp in his jacket pocket - discarded at the roadside in a fit of rage and stomped into the wet ground, only to be picked up and pocketed a moment later. He liked that tie. His holsters tug uncomfortably at his shoulders, the twist of his body as he was running having shifted them to where they now pinch uncomfortably at his underarms. He can't wait to discard it all, to take off the whole damn lot - and these fucking shoes - and pretend for just one moment that he's not who he is.

So, he begins to shed the skin of Detective Tim Rockford.

The shoes go first. The jacket second. And then he removes his gun, stashing it in its case where it belongs and throwing his holster at his closet, where he'll no doubt struggle to find it again tomorrow. The burning sear of a shower is the last thing left to rid himself of the title that hangs over him, but instead he walks to his office. He needs to be Detective for just a moment longer.

It's tidier and more comfortable in here than it has any right to be. Dark wood, soft leather, neat folders, and blank papers. Of course, it's neat because he's rarely here to use it, preferring to use the space given to him downtown where a plaque sits on his desk telling all and sundry that Detective Tim Rockford works here. Here, in this room, he can be a little less Detective and a little more him.

He flops heavily into his chair, a move he immediately regrets when he feels the relief of taking the weight off his feet. How he'll ever get up from here, he doesn't know. Maybe he'll sleep here. Halfway between Detective and himself, stuck in some weird limbo where he is both and neither all at once. That'll lead to some good dreams.

Tim thinks of you. This was the place for that kind of thing, after all. This office where he is himself and someone else, the perfect parts of a person to be liaising with someone like you. Because that's what it was with you, a liaison. Nothing more, nothing less. And you, everything that you were, were his last chance for some good news before he peeled back the rest of the Detective and became himself for a few blissful hours.

Pulling a card from a drawer, he flips it in his fingers once, then twice before tapping it on his desk. You'd given it to him on his last visit - your address and number emblazoned on the front, both things he no longer needed to see to know, and a small list of services on the other side. Services that he ignored when you'd first pointed them out to him with a wink, but that he'd since spent a long time mulling over and, on occasion, searching in an incognito window of his browser.

With a heavy sigh, he picks up the phone, dialing your number from memory, and waits for you to pick up. Anyone else would be furious with a 4am phonecall, but not you. For a while he thought it was what suited your work best - common sense, and his years on the job, had taught him that illicit activities so often were better suited to darkness than daylight. But he'd seen clients leave your studio in the middle of the day on more than one occasion. No, by this point he simply suspected you didn't sleep at all.

A click of the call connecting, a soft breath down through the line, and there you are, the lilt of your voice ringing through his ear like music.

"Detective Rockford, how nice of you to call. What can I interest you in this fine morning?"

He pinches his nose, card still gripped tightly between his middle fingers. You did this every time, no matter the time of day or night. You were always on, always ready to try to rile him and get into his bloodstream. He'd admonished you once, told you he was only trying to do his job and he expected you to do the same. When you told him you were doing your job, Tim had to admit you got him there. You were both professionals, just in very, very different ways. From then on, he'd learned to appreciate it. Even if it did make him ache sometimes in ways he thought best to ignore.

"You got any news for me?"

You scoff down the phone. A light sound, but he can picture you rolling your eyes with it anyway. "Always so charming, Detective. Diving straight in without any foreplay at all. You can do better than that. Sweeten me up a little before you -"

"Please."

He sounds desperate in a way you haven't heard before. A year into your arrangement and he'd never sounded so bone tired and stressed out. You can even hear the pinch in his brow over the phone, the wrinkles there getting deeper and deeper the longer you knew him.

"It's been quiet, Detective. I doubt I have the names you're after, but a few whispers have been floating around. The case with the cat still causing you problems?"

From the heavy sigh he gives you can tell it's not what he was after, but that it is, indeed, still causing him problems.

"Well, I heard that..."

And so, you divulge your secrets, secrets that aren't really yours to have or to give, but you give them anyway. Whispers and names softly delivered down the phone line where he scribbles them down on a blank sheet of paper, careful not to indent the pages below it.

The pen clatters to the desk when you finish. You both know you haven't given him what he needs, but if Tim's honest with himself he isn't always sure what he needs from you any more. Though, he knows what he wants. Yes, he's frequently made painfully aware of what he wants.

"Anything you need?" he asks, his voice sounding tight with frustration. You can't blame him any more than you can hold back the laugh that trickles from your lips.

"Nothing right now. Here I was thinking that was my line anyway, Detective. The things I could do for you, if you'd let me."

Tim's eyes are drawn to the card again, now face up on the desk beside the scrawl of information you'd just given him. Truth be told, your services are as emblazoned in his mind as the details on the front of the card. Sometimes, like right now, he could barely get that list out of his mind long enough to think straight.

That's the moment when, after a long day at the end of an even longer week, part Detective but part just him, he gives in to what he's been fighting himself for for almost a year, and clears his throat.

"Like what? What... what exactly could you do for me?"

You're caught between surprise and glee, briefly straightening where you lounge in your chair. Softening back into the plush fabric, you dance a finger across your lower lip, wry smile tugging at your mouth as you think of the very many things you could do for him.

"Oh, Detective Rockford. I thought you'd never ask."

Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it.

And it made him nervous.

He was in half a mind to walk away, but it was too late. His knuckles had already rapped against the wood, and you were already flicking the latch on the other side, readying to let him in.

When you do he's stunned, just like he always is when he sees you. This time you're half naked, a thin robe draped over your shoulders and left untied at the front. Beneath it you're wrapped in soft mesh lingerie, your nipples visible through the fabric as you beckon him inside.

The space - your studio - was a simple office unit in an undesirable part of town, but you made it work. As funny as it felt to admit, it was familiar to him now, and there was a comfort in that that was already easing the swell of nerves in his body. It wasn't always this way, of course, that first visit being eye opening both figuratively and literally. Furniture and furnishings that were odd were now somewhat normal, and the soft, rich, scent that permeated the room was one that he now associated only with you and this place you existed within. It was a smell too, he notices, that is so much stronger today than it has ever been on any of his previous visits, and he breathes in deeply, both to savor it and to calm the last of the nerves vibrating in his core.

When you shut the door, closing off the world outside, you stand before him again, looking a picture of sultry confidence as you size him up. This wasn't something that was new. You often stood there, letting your gaze wander up and down his body, lingering in places that made him flush red as you taunted him with flirty quips he'd ignore. This time is no different, and he finds himself mesmerized by the way you toy with the ties on your robe as you eye him, fingers gliding up and down the fabric.

"Are you here on your business, or mine, Detective?" you say with a smile, drawing his gaze from your fingers to your face. It was a long running joke, something you said each and every time he visited you here, despite the answer always being the same. But today, finally, it would be different.

Tim rolls his eyes, just as he always does, but instead of replying with a curt mine, he lets a smile pull at his lips instead. "Yours."

"Music to my ears. And you still want to do this? You're ready?"

You both knew that had a double meaning. In the literal physical sense, he knows he's as ready as he could possibly be. But he still takes a moment to check in with himself, to see if going through with all of it is something that he still wants. If those whispers down the phone, whispers that had quickly turned from flirty promises to guidance, to gasps, to relief, were what he still wanted. Would it be worth it, or was it a momentary blip of weakness and want? But then he remembers that relief once again, the soothing of that ache like sitting down off of pained feet, and can only imagine how much better that will feel here, with you, in this room. He's ready.

Tim nods, prompting you to take another step forward. The smell isn't the room at all, he notices. It's you. The fragrance clinging to your hair or your skin, he's not sure, but so much stronger each time you move.

"Good," you say on your slow approach. Barely a step from him you reach out, tugging on his jacket and straightening his tie before letting your palm rest on his chest. The soft stroke of your fingers does nothing to soothe the rapid hammering of the muscle pumping in his chest cavity, but you suppose it wasn't meant to. You wanted him excited and desperate for it. He'd already shown you how beautiful he could be for you over the phone - all whines and whimpers and yes ma'am's. Now you wanted the real thing.

"Why don't you get all of this off for me."

Before now, Tim had wondered how you started these things - how you went from 0 to seemingly 100 with clients to get them in through the door and out in the allotted time frame. He hadn't expected it to be so quick, or so easy. Maybe he just hadn't expected himself to be so quick, or so easy, but he's tugging at his tie before you even move away to settle against your desk with your ankles crossed.

"That's it, Detective," you prompt, letting your robe slip from your shoulders and pool at your elbows as he stuffs the tie into his pocket. "I want to see all of you."

And he wants you to see all of him. He wants to take off everything that makes him Detective Tim Rockford right in front of you, and have you take control, tell him what to do, make his mind blissfully empty. So, first he kicks off his shoes, then he takes off his jacket. Slowly, his shirt is peeled from his body, the nerves racketing up again with each button. He doesn't look how he did 10 years ago, he was less lean and more soft than he had ever been, the middle aged spread proving to be a fact of life he couldn't escape.

You know what he's thinking as his fingers stall on the last few buttons of his shirt. You'd dealt with these insecurities before, in countless other clients. You weren't immune to similar thoughts either. But, he'd told you he wanted to let go, to give up control with you, so you nod to the remainder of his clothes and prompt again.

"Come now. Let me see."

Tim's fingers work quickly over the last buttons and pull the shirt from his broad frame just as quickly, giving no time for the nerves to take root. You voice the sound of your smile the moment his shirt is discarded and he looks up to see your appraisal. Each button had drawn your eyes down his chest, to the soft swell of his belly, and further still to the growing bulge in the front of his pants. Tall and broad and beautiful, the mass of man in front of you had the power to catch your eye even fully clothed, but now, shirtless with the promise of more on the horizon, you couldn't ignore the thrill at seeing so much of his tanned skin, littered with freckles and a soft smattering of hair.

His belt is unbuckled and off, and his fingers are pulling open the button of his pants and his fly. He doesn't look at you again. He can't right now - if he does he'll choke up and stop himself, feeling entirely inadequate offering this body of his to you. Pushing down his pants, down past soft thighs and strong calves, he steps out of them, taking his socks with them with each step, before nervously scratching at his belly.

Only then, does he look back up at you. You're enraptured, and have already pushed back off your desk, circling him to look at every inch of his body. You'd dimmed the lights slightly, as you always did for client sessions, but even in the soft lamplight he looked stunning. Your fingers trace the swell of his bicep, across his shoulder and the jut of his shoulder blade. A shudder runs down his spine as your fingers dance across it, down to the dimples at his back and over his hip before you round him again where your fingertips rest on his soft belly and the trail of hair there.

"You've been hiding all of this from me for how long, Detective?" you whisper, letting your fingers glide down further and further with each word. "It makes me wonder what else you're hiding."

Tim's cock twitches in his boxers, the thin fabric straining more and more with each passing moment under your gaze. He'd never felt so seen, so appraised, before. The way you looked at him was so easy, the shine in your eye so bright as he peeled back each layer.

"You still want this?"

It's what he said he'd wanted. Days ago now, but he'd said he wanted it and he did. He does. He swallows thickly, desperate to get moisture back into his mouth, nodding a croak of a yes.

At that, you slide the tip of your finger into the waistband of his boxers and pull, stretching the elastic a fraction before releasing, pinging it sharply against his skin.

"Then get these off too, Detective."

His boxers are on the floor a second later, his cock springing free semi-hard between his legs. Raising your hands to your face, you gasp in faux shock, hiding your very real delight behind your hands as you take in his entire naked form.

"Oh, Detective Rockford. I'm disappointed. After all this time you've been hiding that from me?" you gasp, and while Tim can't help but roll his eyes, his cock betrays him and stiffens even more at your words. You'd been through it all with him. Your services, yes, but also specifically what he wanted from you, some of which you'd discovered together on the phone that morning. This was one of those things - a thing you'd discovered on a whim, but something you both knew he would like before the words left your lips. There was a reason he was asking you for this and nobody else - Tim knew the specific brand of sordid you dealt in and, more than anything, he trusted you. Unfortunately for him, you planned on keeping exactly to your word from that call and, guiding your fingers down his bare chest, you tease closer and closer to his length.

"Tsk. Such a shame I won't be playing with it today."

Tim groans, a gasp of a thing he cuts short with a pinch of his lips. He's frowning again too, but nods, knowing that what he came here for wasn't that, but also very aware of the weight of the words you used. Not today, but not never.

Then, your robe is off and you're guiding him to the bed, where he lowers himself and leans back, watching your form as it retreats into the other room. He looks down, down at the body you'd just spent minutes looking at and enjoying, and wonders what you see that he doesn't. All he knows is he's trusted your word for as long as he's known you, and it's no different now. Whatever you see in him, you at least believe it to be true, and that alone makes it easier for him to believe himself. Before he can figure much or anything else out, you're sauntering back into the room.

In your hands you hold a few things. None of them should be surprising to him, but he still sucks in a sharp breath when he sees it - the strap you'd picked out just for him. You'd told him about it over the phone, said that you had the perfect one for him, that you could picture him beneath you taking it, moaning and shaking as you fucked him, and now there it was, exactly as you described. This was never something he felt able to ask for with anyone else, his ex-wife especially. It's true he was always married more to his job than to her, but even in the privacy of their own bedroom he had secrets and wants he could never share with her - she made that much clear early on. With you, he didn't even need to mention it first for you to suggest it to him, didn't even need to feel the heat of shame in his cheeks as he struggled to find the words for what he wanted, because there you were already with all the answers.

You settle everything beside him, letting him see the soft, slender, curve of the dildo up close for the first time, and pass him a bottle of water. Tim takes it, grateful that once again that it was another thing he didn't have to ask for, and cracks open the lid, taking a deep gulp of the cold liquid before setting it out of the way. Another day he'd wonder how it got to this - how on earth Tim Rockford got so used to suffering in silence that even thirst wasn't something he'd remedy until he was desperate. But, right now all he knows is the heat of your body and the smell of your skin as you kneel next to him on the bed, looking down at him with a smirk on your lips.

"Usually I ask people how they'd like it," you whisper, stroking gently down his neck, "but I think we both know you'd like it on your knees, Detective." You twirl your finger in the air, signalling for him to move, and like the good little thing he is, he shifts onto his hands before crawling forward slightly to perch on all fours on the bed.

You think he looks glorious; he feels so exposed - entirely naked for you while you're draped in that thin mesh he can see right through. He doesn't want to think about how he looks like this, on his knees with his ass on total display, his cock hanging low and, already, starting to leak precum.

Blunt nails drag down his back, softly scraping down his ass cheeks and the backs of his thighs. He shudders. You can see his cock where it bobs between his legs, and his balls where they hang softly just beneath the cleft of his cheeks. If he were a different client, maybe you'd give in and drag your nails across the soft flesh of them too, cup them in your palm and give them a firm squeeze, but you resist. Whatever this is doing to you, you'll deal with later. For now, this is for him and that desperate man, the Detective, who had all but begged you for information down the phone.

Grabbing at the small selection of things you'd dumped next to him, you get ready. Tim watches, eager eyes looking as you pull a black nitrile glove down your hand and snap it around you wrist, wiggling your fingers at him when you spot his gaze.

"I can tell you're excited," you say with a look down to his ass where his cock bounces hard against his belly with a tense of his muscles. "You're so ready for this too, aren't you? You've been waiting so long..."

Guiding your ungloved hand down his ass, you squeeze, gripping the flesh and pulling him apart, exposing him to your gaze. "Very pretty."

Tim huffs a laugh, not believing for a second that he is pretty at all, let alone like this, or there.

"What? You don't think you're pretty, all bent over and exposed for me, Detective? I'd argue you've never looked better."

"Right. Is this how you get all your information? Your clients must tell you all sorta things, huh? Vulnerable like this."

A swift, sharp slap is delivered to his right ass cheek, making him gasp as you tut and soothe the sting with your palm. "Ah-ah, Detective, you're off the clock. No work talk. We're here on my business now, not yours."

"Fu- Never off the clock, not in my line of work."

"And that's exactly why you're here, sweetie."

"...Yes ma'am."

There's a small delighted giggle that you just can't hold back, a sound that makes him flush, before you speak again. "Polite and pretty. Are you ready for me, Detective?"

It's then he realizes that your hand hasn't stopped its slow, steady caress of his ass cheeks, pushing and pulling him apart as you watch the tension leave his shoulders. He nods, trying not to brace himself for whatever is coming first, not hearing the click of a lube bottle through the blood rushing in his ears, but definitely feeling the cool trickle of it when it drips onto his asshole.

"That's it," you say, soothing with your ungloved hand, as your gloved one comes down to stroke the pucker of his ring. "We both know you're familiar with this feeling, Detective. Are you going to let me in here?"

The wet swipe of your finger between his cheeks almost feels like it could be cool, cold tongue with how you swirl it around and around his asshole. He tries not to curl his toes, and manages not to until he can't help but beg, a small please falling softly from his plush lips, and you immediately push, sinking the tip of your finger into his ass.

Tim groans, gripping the sheets in an effort not to surge forward and away from the gentle probe of your finger.

"Make all the noise you need to, Detective."

"Fuck."

Your finger steadily sinks into him, drawing out and in to collect more lube as you drizzle it onto his hole.

"Remember how this feels?"

He remembers. Remembers the crackle of your voice over the phone line as you told him to finger his ass. How his hands had scrambled to turn on speakerphone, the other still wrapped around his cock, jerking weakly as you whispered filthy encouragement down the line. Before even that, he remembers the nights spent in his own bed, concocting his own fantasies while he fucked his fist and fingers in tandem.

Except, your fingers feel so much different from his own, can reach places his cannot, and he's groaning with his head hung low between his shoulders before you're even knuckle deep.

Curling this way and that, you feel him from the inside out. Soothing him with a hand on his back, you can feel the deep breath he takes just as the tip of your finger collides with a spot inside him he was all too familiar with, massaging back and forth until he's a groaning mess.

"Oh, well that's a pretty sound, Detective. It sounds to me like you want another."

If he closes his eyes, he can see it, see the black of your gloved hand curled into a fist as your index finger stretches his hole. He can see already as you pull out a little, unfurl another finger, and slide it next to the first, ready to push into him again.

And he takes it, letting out a shuddering gasp, as your fingers fuck into his ass once again, scissoring in him before pushing down and beginning a slow curl against that spot again.

"There. That was easy. I think someone is enjoying this quite a bit, aren't you, Detective?"

There's no denying it, he is. The feel of your hand making him want to buckle into a heap on the bed already and you'd barely even started.

"Yeah. It's - ah fuck - it's good. That's - uh - not fair."

You'd been curling and prodding against his prostate as he tried to talk, making him garble words at you as you watch his cock get more and more engorged between his thighs. "What's not fair?" you ask, with a firmer press down into the spot, and you relish in the deep gravelly moan that grumbles from his chest, forcing his elbows to drop down onto the mattress.

When his hips buck forward, you place a steadying hand on his back, stroking soothing circles with your bare fingers over the dimples in his skin whilst your gloved ones curl into the spot again and again. Part of him is longing to reach down and grab his cock, to jerk it and come all over his fist with your fingers buried in his ass, but that's not what he's here for. Each time he opens his eyes he's made aware of what he's here for by the strap that still lays next to him. If he comes too soon, he's scared that'll be it over, the relief he was really seeking from you still totally out of reach by his own failure. He couldn't, wouldn't, fail at this too.

"Just look at you, Detective. You're getting so wet already." He is. He can feel it. His cock is dripping, beads of precum collecting on his tip and threatening to make a mess of the sheets below. Nodding and groaning and squeezing his eyes shut seem to be all he can do already, feeling like a total mess of a man with your voice like honey trickling into his ear. "So good. I think you can take one more finger. That's it, just one more. Good. Good boy."

He preens, back arching with the praise, cock definitely dripping onto the sheets now, three of your fingers curling and thrusting into his ass. He throbs, the ache of arousal thrumming through him with no relief, just building and building and building with nowhere to go, because you don't let it. You control it, each press of your fingers still so achingly slow that it can make him drip and ache but never explode.

A thin sheen of sweat is coating his body, his legs shaking, forehead pressed into the cool sheets, groans falling wantonly from his mouth, by the time you gingerly pull your fingers from him. That in itself feels like a relief, he thinks. Even though he's still painfully hard at least, for one moment, he's not being worked up and up to an edge you won't quite let him over just yet.

But the strap beside him is gone when he looks up, pushing up on shaky hands to look around for you again. Now, it sits on your hips, straps pulled taught over the mesh of your lingerie. You're pulling a condom over the length of dildo, rolling it down to the base, your glove discarded somewhere he can't see. His mouth is dry again, so he reaches for the water, swallowing deeply, wiping away an errant drop from the scruff of his beard.

He can't stop looking. Between your face, your beautiful face, your scantily clad body, your hands and those fingers that had just been inside him, the cock between your legs. He's entranced. It takes a gentle hand on his shoulder for him to notice you're talking to him.

"Look at you, Detective," you hum down to him, and all he can think is Yes. Look at me. Please. Here he was, stripped bare as a man could be, seen by you in ways he'd never been seen. And that name - a taunt coming from you that he longed for rather than loathed. Each tease of Detective a reminder that with you he could be both and neither all at once, just as he always was.

He reaches for you then. Slowly. Delicately. Fingers bridging the gap between you. Usually you'd step back, move away from grasping hands when permission wasn't granted. But, you let him touch, his fingers resting on your mesh covered hip and stroking you. It's the first time he's ever touched you, and it's so soft. You're so soft.

"You're ready for it, aren't you?" you ask, your eyes lazily dragging down to the strap between your legs where his follow.

Without word, and avoiding the mess already splattered on the sheet, he moves back to all fours, his hand leaving you cold. Slicking more lube across the strap, you kneel behind him, palming his ass with both hands, rubbing soft circles down his thighs as you gently rut against the crevasse of his ass.

"Do you trust me, Detective?"

It's a stupid question - stupid because you already know the answer, and so does he.

"You're kidding, right?" he says in disbelief, looking around to see the coy smile on your face.

"Humor me."

"Of course I do."

With his eyes still on you, you press forward, hand steadying the dildo to slip the tip into his slick asshole.

"Oh. That's it. Look at me when I fuck your ass. That feels so good doesn't it?"

Tim pants, nodding as you bear forward. The strap is barely thicker than your three fingers, but his rim still stretches and pulls as you breach him, slowly, steadily, until the entire length is buried in his ass.

"There we go. That's it. I'm all the way in. You take an ass fucking so well, Detective. Are you sure you haven't done this before?" With another roll of your hips he's gasping again, dropping his face to the sheet. The heat of his thighs are against yours and you know, you just know, that his cock is straining, his balls begging to empty already.

"There we are. That's it. You can take it. Oh, good boy. You like that don't you. You like being a good boy."

With his cheek is pressed to the mattress, you can see nothing but the pinched look of ecstasy on his face. It's boiling in his veins too, the heat spreading up his back and burning his cheeks. If he opens his eyes he'll see you, looking down with intent at his ass as you slowly roll your hips into him, and the thought alone makes him groan, brings him so close to coming that he's scrambling for purchase on the bed again, desperate gasps rattling out of him. The cloying scent of you is all over him - stuck in his lungs like molasses, each deep breath in of you coinciding with each slap of your hips against his ass until desperation turns to pleading.

"Please. P-please. Fuck. Please."

"Please what?" you say, looking around at him. And that's when you see his cock, angry and weeping, splattering cum all over your sheets. You hadn't felt him come yet, there'd been no tensing of his muscles or twitching of his cock, just a steady stream of precum dripping from him like a leaky faucet. "Oh, look at that. You're making quite the mess, aren't you, sweetie? Are you going to clean that up? Hm? Or will I have to bill the city for my laundry?"

"Oh, fu-," he pants, and you feel a shiver trickle down his back at the empty threat, his palms pressing harder into the mattress beneath him as his shoulders draw back. He's going to come. You don't even need to move, you could just talk to him in that voice of yours, call him a good boy and tell him how dirty he is and he'd be gone, skyrocketing to a place he'd never been and making a glorious mess of everything.

"What was that?" You slow down the roll of your hips, drawing him back from that edge you'd been dangling him so deliciously over.

"No. No. Don't - Fuck."

"Then you'll have to clean up your mess."

You swipe your finger through the cum that has steadily dripped from his cock and onto the sheet below, and lean forward to bring it to his lips, pressing your hips further and further into his ass. There's a sticky sheen of sweat on his back that slicks you together, and you can't resist. You kiss him. Soft lips pressing into the muscle of his shoulder, waiting for that moment he parts his lips in a voiceless moan to slip your finger inside. His tongue laves around your digit, tasting himself on the salt of your skin and he groans, vibrating desperate sounds from his chest to yours as you fuck so deep he's seeing stars.

"That's it, that's a good boy," you coo, dragging your finger from his mouth, leaving a trail of saliva across the scruff of his cheek.

"It's such a shame I have no use for your cock when it looks so pretty, Detective," You say, lifting your leg to fuck more deeply into him. "Look at it, all drippy and useless. You're going to come, aren't you? Even without touching your cock, you're going to come and make even more of a mess."

"Yes. Fuck, yes. Don't stop."

The steady slap of your hips picks up, and you're panting with exertion now too. You could've had him coming in five minutes, but that was no fun for you. You'd waited too long for this not to drag it out, not to see how long he could hold off for you, how much of a desperate mess he could be before he was begging for release. This was it. His limit. You'd found it, and his groans were suddenly impossible to ignore, shooting white hot heat into your own core, making you feel slick with want as you fucked him. You need him to come, before your need for more friction clouds your brain and you need to slip your hand between your own legs before he even leaves.

"Such a pretty ass to ruin. Come for me, Detective. Oh, fuck. Come for me."

He stops breathing. He thinks he's died. He has to have. You think you've killed him. But then his whole body tenses and he groans out a sob, biting sheets and spitting them out over and over as he comes, and comes, and comes. You don't stop, each shuddering sob of a gasp spurring you on until he's milked dry and almost prone on the mattress.

"That's it. That's it. You did it. Good boy. Well done, Detective. Well done."

He feels so soft. His bones must have turned to dust and spurted out of his cock with that final thrust of the strap in his ass. He's never been this weightless, never been this carefree. There's not an ache in him, just pure bliss, and he's so relieved he could cry.

And you're there. Pulling out of him slowly, wiping down his back, his thighs, with a damp towel, cooling him before you dry him with another, bringing water to his lips for him to drink. Pushing his hair back from his forehead, you guide him onto his back, letting him lie down and take a moments rest you know the man wouldn't take any other time. You're fairly certain he doesn't sleep. Detective Rockford works too hard because he cares too much, you know that. And you also know he doesn't care for himself. That is why he's here, even if he'd never say so himself.

"Up you get, sweetie. It's cold. Let's get something on you," you're whispering to him all too soon. Tim's lost, the concept of time gone from his body entirely, but he supposes it has been too long, his time is up. He only paid for an hour of your time, and even that seemed much more valuable than the price you'd put on it. He should go.

When he sits up he's lethargic, reaching for his clothes as he shuffles to the end of the bed. He doesn't know you're holding a robe out for him, strap discarded. He doesn't see the concern in your eyes because he suddenly can't meet them. "Should get going, I guess."

"No. You shouldn't. Stay."

Tim looks up to you then, seeing you wrapped and fully covered for the first time in the year he's known you. You're no more on the job right now than he is, he realizes, blinking in confusion at the robe you toss next to him.

"Look, I've taken up enough of your time, I don't want to overstep -"

"I'm not asking you to stay as a client, Detective. I'm asking you to stay as a friend. Stay. Talk to me." And you say it because god knows you mean it. You want him to stay and you want him to talk as much as you know he needs it, that gap he'd bridged with his hand now being bridged by you, and your simple request that he stay.

"Some friend to have."

"A good friend to have, Tim.”

“- I didn't mean - I meant me, I -”

“The point still stands either way," you say. And you mean that too. "Stay."

And that's it. There he is. Stripped back, just like he wanted. No more Detective. Just Tim. And there you are. Sitting on the blanket draped sofa, looking him straight in the eye. You don't need to look down to see him, and he doesn't need to look up to see you.

Grabbing the robe, Tim drapes it around himself, walking on unsteady feet toward you, the mess of the sheets and his life forgotten for one more second.

"Decaf? Might not have all the answers. But I do have coffee. And that's a start."

"Yeah," he says as he sits beside you. "Yeah, that's a start."

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @corazondebeskar-reads

also a little sneaky tag if you showed interest in my snippet the other day 💛 @heareball @nerdieforpedro @missredherring @survivingandenduring

#tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x you #merge mansion #merge mansion fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #coveted fics

[factual-fantasy]

FNAF Recap/Repair project Update: (Moon Malfunction is stinky now) :’}

Okay, so I have a pretty bummer update about my fnaf recap project. So in my Recap/Repair Project explanation post, I commented this, 👇

This post was basically going to say “The next part in the timeline is this comic that I already made months ago called “Moon Malfunction”. I went through the comic and only 1 bubble of dialogue needs to be corrected. Other than this one text bubble, the entire comic fits into the canon. Here’s a link to Moon Malfunction so you can go read it! :DDD”

I worked so hard on this comic, and it took me weeks to complete. I thought it was beautiful and I was so proud of it when I made it. So I was very glad I was able to reuse this comic for my timeline, and not let any of that hard work go to waste..

..But I cant reuse it.

I wanted to salvage this comic so much, that I brushed past most of the inconsistency's and said “good enough”. But the truth is, its not good enough. Not to me.

This comic is majorly outdated. As much as I love it, DJ and Moon aren’t acting quite right. DJ would respond to this situation differently now that I have re-written his character. And now that the nature of the virus has been thought out properly, Moon would be acting different too.

Also the comic as a whole is just, not how I would make a comic nowadays. My artwork has improved since then, and my ability to make coherent comics even more so. I can see where I would have drawn scenes differently. Where I would and would not have done close ups. AND this comic was shortened quite a bit. Because of how much drawing I had to do, I trimmed it down, so the pacing is kind’a rushed. Nowadays I’m not afraid to take some time and let the comic drag on to get the story across better.

Basically. Because I completely re-wrote this AU. This comic just doesn’t fit quite right anymore. Which sucks that I have to scrap it.. but its worth it. I love FNAF. And I really care about the quality of my storytelling in my AU. I want to make it good. I want my love for FNAF to be seen in how much effort I put into making my AU as great as I can possibly make it.

Which means I’m going to take the time to sit down and re-make this comic. The next part of the recap project will not be a short post. Its going to be a giant comic called “Moon Malfunction 2.0″ (probably). And once its done, THEN I can get to game night and the rest of the au.

Also during this time. A lot of other time sensitive projects I have are becoming.. well. A problem. I’m running out of time to get them done-

So while I’m writing Moon Malfunction 2.0, I’m going to be working on some time sensitive IRL projects, amongst other beloved projects that I refuse to abandon, 

BUT! Not to worry! I plan to not leave ya’ll without any content. I’m gonna do my best to drop a sketch or meme here and there, whether it be FNAF, TF2, OCs or otherwise. So just sit tight, for now, I’m gonna try to get through these projects 1 by 1 and get Moon Malfunction 2.0 out as fast as I can. See ya’ll soon!

Hopefully-

#fnaf security breach #:'} #my bby #I worked so hard on that comic this is such a bummer #but I value a strong story over strong visuals

[eddiernunson]

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves…difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie’s general appearance.

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when I wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie’s energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

I'm posting a sneak at this one, because it was a surprisingly close call. I'm not sure when I'll be done, tbh. But here's the first 900 words!

As the night swallowed you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car while she drives you to the ER. While rough housing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you roll your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sat in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain at each one. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called to the back as you read the memes and watch with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick onto someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally in the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Somehow, he was just so enticing, everything about him drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage, wondering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and white tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

If you want to be tagged when the full fic is posted, just let me know in the replies. Again, I have no idea when that will happen, it's not done yet. Maybe this'll give me the motivation i need

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic

[bonefall]

bones im doing the math and a stellers jay cooked properly can feed like four cats. no wonder clan cats have so many rules about prey distribution birds are so full of nutrition you can just coast on it. bones i did the math and if they take down an eagle they could feed like a hundred cats oh god boar meat is so worth it isnt it

EDIT: Boar math update

The average male boar is 440 pounds, which is 200 kilograms, 200,000 g x 5 = 1 million calories.

That will feed an entire Clan for months. All through the three months of winter. Boar meat is sososososo worth it, it's INSANE. ThunderClan should actually be The Fat Clan, these guys are partaking of the sweet fat of the hog and absolutely rolling in extra calories.

(This is actually why I draw a lot of my ThunderClan cats with bellies, like Lionblaze. This man finds himself in the path of food because his Clan has lots to offer lmao)

^ Lionblaze the first day Willowpelt took him on as a secondary apprentice

Ducks are a REALLY good target for Clans, also. Average mallard drake is 3.5 pounds, 1.5 kilos, 9,000 calories. One duck feeds the entire Clan for a day.

I will say though, EXTRA knowledge; remember that calories don't necessarily satiate hunger! A lot of factors do, but you can summarize them with weight in the context of cats. My cat's usually full around 85 grams, but I know some cats who can hoover a big can of food in a single sitting.

(long answer: protein, fiber, thickness, if you had a drink beforehand, eating slowly, etc. But we're talking about prey meat here)

So your stellar's jay example is usually about 100 to 120 grams (though since my guys are in England, they wouldn't encounter those), which would basically be a meal two cats share. If that's breakfast they'll have hit all their calories for the day, but they'll still feel hungry for lunch and dinner.

This is why soups are so cool btw. This was a soup post all along. It's soupaganda time

Not only do you get that boost from cooking the meat here, but the value is more evenly distributed through the whole dish, the weight of the broth languishes in the stomach to make you feel full, AND ALSO IT'S A CLEAN SOURCE OF HYDRATION. You BOILED the water and didn't even think about it. That 120g prey item is now nutrition for 3 cats, a whole meal for 6, plus an easy way to get more water into sick warriors who may not feel like eating.

Get yourself some mushrooms, a couple pieces of prey, whatever leftovers that would otherwise go to waste, and BAM you've got your whole Clan stuffed and happy, even if they didn't manage to hit the caloric minimum of the day.

#The biggest flying bird that your basic British BB!Cat would be encountering is a wood pigeon #Which is larger than a stellar's jay weighing around a pound #nutrition guide #clan culture #better bones au

[eusion]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪&team hyung line as ur long distance bf ⌒☆

pairing ⌒☆ &team hyung line x reader

word count ⌒☆ idek

note ⌒☆ :p

k ⌒☆

tries to stay on call with u for as long as he can, even on his walks/drives to work

"are u hungry? i can send u money for food" and will send a lot more than needed

when u arent on ft with eachother, ur on discord or skype. only uses discord because u asked him to

loves hearing about ur day and will always have his hand on his cheek when listening to u... stares directly into that camera

that hoodie hes wearing? say something about it once and it appears at ur front door

always spraying his favorite scents on all of the things he sends u

falling asleep on call with u every night without fail and if the call fails he will spam call u back until u pick up

"just say it and im hopping on the next flight" and he does

when he sees u he tries to act very nonchalant in a "oh its about time u came and visited" way but when u both pull into a hug hes crying into ur shoulder

fuma ⌒☆

constantly asking for updates on what ur doing

leaves u with good morning and good night messages with reminders to always eat

when ur stressed out he surprises u with ur favorite beverage delivered right to ur doorstep

ur address is the only one on his uber eats app

whispering sweet reassuring words into the mic until u fall asleep... ends it with a "goodnight honey.."

he does hang up after a few hours though because he doesnt want to ruin ur battery life

will send silly selfies with doodles on his face every now and then

"wish u were here" 25/8

named all of his highest level pokemon after u on pokemon go

nicholas ⌒☆

always taking pictures of his day to day life and sending them to u so ur updated... also because he wants u to feel like ur with him

not much of a caller but when u do call its more of u two just fting while doing ur own thing

constant invites to listen along with him on spotify

"this reminded me of u" and its a picture of a gum wrapper or a flower. no in between

always asking for advice on what to buy & sometimes he will buy something for u that matches

when hes eating at a restaurant by himself he takes a pic of the other side of the table and doodles u as a stick figure sitting across from him

has a whole folder in his camera roll of pictures of u and looks through it every night

always asking u to take selfies for him so he can save them and use it as his lock screen

24/7 tweets about how much he misses his girlfriend and the only follower is u

euijoo ⌒☆

u two have all the shared widgets in the world... the pet one... the drawing one... yeah

insists on turning on ur cameras for movie night but turns it off when it gets to an emotional part of the movie because he doesnt want u to see him cry

an extremely long spotify collab playlist between the both of u and he will only listen to that playlist, even when hes going to bed

when ur on video calls he will keep his eyes fixed on u even when ur not looking at him because he loves to watch u breathe

loves loves loves getting updates from u through texts & will smile like an idiot for the entire day when u send a selfie

voice memos are his main way of communicating even if its just a small "ohh..." he will record it and press send

when ur feeling upset he writes essays about how great u are in ur shared page on the notes app

will never fail to bring u up even in the slightest when hes out with friends

his lock screen is set as a cute doodle u drew of u two together

#&team #&team fluff #&team scenarios #&team x reader #&team imagines #&team euijoo #&team fuma #&team k #&team nicholas #i love &team #goodnight

[finntheehumaneater]

I owe you a black eye and two kisses (pt 16)

(Part one) ao3 | Pinboard | playlist

comments/reblogs/follows are appreciated, I’m an attention whore

The girls were in the lawn with Eddie, El sitting next to him while he tried to show her how to play a D-chord on his guitar—not the one he hung on his wall—and Max was sitting on the grass, drawing with a sharpie on the toe of Eddie’s converse. Eddie’s one condition to letting her do it, even though he had suggested that they needed re-decorating, was that it needed to look cool. Max wasn’t all that good at art, and Steve couldn’t see what she was doing all the way from the steps up to the trailer, but he hoped it would turn out okay.

He felt the stairs creak as Wayne sat next to him, a gruff sigh and a hand on his shoulder. “Steve?”

Steve looked over, panic immediately seeping into his chest. Had he done something wrong? “I—I’m sorry, I—“

He was glad Wayne silenced him, squeezing his shoulder gently, because he didn’t even know what he was apologizing for anymore. “S’okay, son. Just wanna talk. M’not mad.”

Steve didn’t believe him, but he sank in on himself, letting Wayne touch him without protest. He looked back over at Eddie, who was laughing, El’s face tucked against his shoulder as she laughed, too, the guitar half falling out of her lap with Eddie’s hand holding it still. 

Steve knew he and Eddie wouldn’t last long enough to talk about getting a house…getting married…getting kids…but he was so good with them. Patient with El and just letting Max vandalize his shoes…

He liked to drive, too. It was perfect. Perfect to fit in Steve’s little fantasy he’d been having since he and Nancy started dating, and even now, after they had broken up. Six kids and long road trips on the coast, somewhere far away from Indiana and all of the shit that had happened here.

“Eds said you were at the mall when it fell-in,” Wayne said quietly, his voice more scratchy the softer it got. “Never understood why you kids were there. It was closed, wasn’t it?”

Steve sighed, feeling tears prick at his eyes. His faded-bruises and scars stung at the memory of it all. There were still bruises on him, up his thighs and down his shoulders, but they were from something softer—something nicer. 

Eddie liked to bite, Steve had found out. And that was fine, if that’s what Eddie wanted to do.

“How are you holding up?” Wayne whispered.

Steve choked on a sob, shaking his head, opening his mouth to apologize but Wayne cut him off, his hand rubbing at Steve’s shoulder, and right then that was the only thing keeping him from breaking down.

“S’okay. You don’t have to be okay,” Wayne murmured, knocking his knee against Steve’s. “I was goin’ to ask if you were okay with Marge and Sunny coming over for dinner. Maybe Ken if she was up for it.”

Steve didn’t understand. It was Wayne’s house, he shouldn’t get to decide whether or not people came over—and that just made the guilt of bringing the girls there without asking crash down on him again, and Steve sobbed. It was quiet and barely-audible, but Steve felt his cheeks flush anyway. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“You know you don’t have to say yes, right? I won’t be mad, son, promise. If you’re not up for company, they won’t come.” Wayne’s tone was too gentle. Steve didn’t deserve this. He needed to leave—he needed to go somewhere, anywhere.

“No, it’s fine.”

Wayne sighed and then nodded, standing up and ruffling Steve’s hair, gentle enough that it didn’t mess it up too badly. 

Steve just wanted them to be happy when he was here. He didn’t want to be disruptive, like he had been this whole fucking time.

He’d take the kids back in a minute and apologize for bringing them over when he got back.

period cramps are fucking killing me, sorry for the lack of updates

(Taglist is open)

@estrellami-1

@randombibitch

@insteviewetrust

@anne-bennett-cosplayer

@hack-saw2004

@lolawonsstuff

@goodolefashionedloverboi

@slowandsteddie

@ellietheasexylibrarian

@mugloversonly

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@gleek4twd

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@anaibis

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@honhonbaguettegofuckyourself

@kickpuncher2punchkicker

@dissociatingdemon

@itsall-taken

@pluto-pepsi

@Lawrencebshoggoth

@manda-panda-monium

@flustratedcas

@here4thetrama

@silentiumdelirium

@limpingpenguin

@samsoble 

@hotluncheddie

@sangrientojoe

@moomkin77

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@private-jett

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@foundintheshadows 

@archermightbegay

@queenie-ofthe-void

@saramelaniemoon

@chrystal-lovee

@disrespectedgoatman

@nailbatwielder

@alyelf

@nugget-72

@kennahjune

@whimsicalwitchm

@hellfirebaby-86

#steddie #steddie fic #Steddie fanfic #steddie hurt/comfort #steddie angst #steve harrington #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington has bad parents #eddie munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #Stranger things au #st3 #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #Finn writes #My posts #my fic #my writing

[chelseachilly]

how deep is your love

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: ben's drunk and can't stop telling you how much he loves you 🩵 warnings: none :) word count: 1.4k

author’s note: written based on this post from @benchilwellx bc it was such a cute concept, just a quick fluffy little one-shot to get the writing juices flowing :) sorry i haven't updated this love in a couple weeks but life has been crazy! hoping to get the next chapter posted in the next week but enjoy this in the meantime 💗

also for the sake of this fic let's pretend chelsea didn't have a game this weekend, tbh would rather forget the one they did play lol

-

In the two years you’ve known Ben, and just over a year since you’ve been a couple, you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve seen him truly drunk. 

With the football season preventing him from indulging too much for most of the year, and fitness at the top of his mind even in the off-season, he rarely gets the opportunity. Usually, when you go out, he either drives or makes sure to get you home safely in an Uber, and if you’ve had a really fun night, he’ll help you take off your makeup or even hold your hair back if necessary. 

So it’s an interesting turn of events when you show up a bit late to his best mate Harvey’s birthday celebration at a fancy club in Soho and find your boyfriend clearly tipsy already. 

He’s sitting in a booth next to Tom and Harvey singing along to some 90s R&B song, a drink in hand that is definitely not his first, or even his second or third. He’s a bit of a sight to behold, as he so rarely drinks this much, but you can’t help but smile at the sight of him letting loose - you know how much pressure he’s been under lately with the captain duties. 

“Babe!” Ben exclaims with wide eyes and an even wider grin as soon as he sees you, stumbling a bit as he gets up from the booth. “You’re here!”

He quickly makes his way to you and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, and you can taste the liquor on his tongue. You sink into him nonetheless, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms after a long day of work.

As soon as you pull back, he rests his forehead against yours and takes a deep breath, his thumbs drawing circles on your waistline.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, babe,“ you smile back at him warmly, enjoying this affection, no matter how much tequila is playing a part. “You pretty drunk?”

“Mhm,” Ben says with a slightly dazed expression, his eyes still focused on your lips. “The boys were making me take shots since there’s no game this week.”

You chuckle slightly, rolling your eyes at Ben’s - and by extension, your - good friends at the booth behind him, dancing and ordering another round of shots. You’re glad Harvey’s having a good birthday.

“I’m happy you’re having fun, baby, you deserve it,” you say sincerely, cupping his face with both hands before leaning in to kiss him again. “Now, it seems I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Go sit with the boys, I’ll get you a drink,” Ben offers, pressing another quick kiss to your cheek before heading to the bar.

You nod with a smile and go to sit next to Harvey, pulling him into a quick hug and wishing him a happy birthday.

“Now, which one of you is responsible for my drunk boyfriend?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow as you glance back at Ben, who is still smiling lovingly at you from the bar. 

“That would be the birthday boy,” Tom chuckles. “He’s bloody entertaining though, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with him hungover tomorrow,” you joke.

The last time he was hungover, after one fun night on the yacht in Italy this summer, Ben had forced you to spend the whole day in bed cuddling with him. You pretended to be annoyed for about five minutes before giving in - partly because you can never turn down his cuddles, and partly because you were pretty hungover too. 

Speaking of how adorable your boyfriend is, within minutes he’s headed back over to you with that same dopey grin on his face and two vodka sodas. It’s your favourite, and his go-to during the season when he’s watching his calories.

“For you, my darling,” Ben says in an overly posh accent as he hands you the glass, making you giggle.

He then practically shoves Tom over to make room for himself to sit next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders protectively and kissing your cheek. You can feel yourself blushing from the unusually overt PDA, as he typically reserves this kind of affection for home, but you don’t mind.

“I love you,” Ben whispers once again against your temple, burying his nose in your hair. “So, so much. Missed you today.”

It’s amazing the way those three words still give you the same butterflies as the first time you heard them, making you smile like a lovestruck fool.

“I missed you too, baby,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make dinner. You know how crazy work has been.”

Ben and the boys had been a bit disappointed when you weren’t able to join them for dinner earlier, mainly because you’ve been so busy at work lately due to a recent promotion that your friends have hardly seen you. Even Ben’s time with you has been limited, especially with him also putting in extra time at Cobham as captain while Reece is out. 

It’s been an exciting time for both of you career-wise, but it’s also meant spending less time together, which is probably why Ben is being so clingy right now and why you’re welcoming his clinginess.

“S’okay, I’m just glad you’re here now,” Ben says, kissing your cheek a few more times before returning the conversation with the boys.

You contently settle into Ben’s side, his arm still firmly wrapped around you, and sip your drink while they talk about football and the girl Anish is seeing. When Ben interrupts the other guys’ suggestions of playing it cool and waiting to text her back by telling his friend to be honest and just tell her how he feels, your heart swells with pride that your boyfriend is the most emotionally intelligent guy you know.

“Since Ben’s the only one successfully in a relationship, I’m gonna take his advice,” Anish laughs, raising his drink to you. “Unless he just got lucky with Y/N.”

“Nah, he won me over fair and square,” you say, turning your face to meet Ben’s eyes and smiling lovingly at him. “I’m the lucky one.”

The way Ben’s eyes shine and his lip quivers slightly at your words makes it impossible for you to resist leaning in to press a quick peck to his mouth. It’s not your fault he’s so adorable, nor is it your fault that Ben deepens the kiss and pulls you closer.

“Alright, we’re going to get more drinks, we’ll leave you to it,” Harvey says with an eye-roll as the rest of your group gets up and starts to walk over to the bar.

You pull back from Ben’s kisses, feeling a bit embarrassed by how touchy you’re being, but he only takes the opportunity to grab your waist and hoist you into his lap.

“Baby,” you sigh, really enjoying the warmth of his arms and the little kisses he’s leaving on your neck. “Don’t you think we should cool it a bit? It’s Harvey’s birthday, doubt he wants to watch us do this all night.”

“Can’t help it,” Ben mumbles into your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. “I just love you so much.”

Ben never shies away from reminding you of this fact, often the last three words he says to you before bed or when you’re leaving the house, but he tends to tell you how much he loves you even more than normal when he’s drinking. You’re not sure if he forgets that he already told you multiple times or just that he feels particularly lovey when intoxicated. Either way, you love it.

“I love you so much too, Benji,” you smile, kissing his forehead and adorning the way his eyes flutter shut in contentment. “Why don’t we stay for one more drink and then go home and have sex on the couch and fall asleep watching Love Island?”

His eyes light up like a child who’s just been offered ice cream before bed, and he nods eagerly.

“Alright, but you’re gonna have to let me off your lap, babe,” you chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Unless you wanna get roasted mercilessly.”

“Don’t care,” Ben grumbles into your hair, but when you pull back and give him a warning look, he sighs and gives in. “Fine, but we’re dancing.”

You squeal slightly as you’re lifted off your feet, Ben dragging you to the dance floor. You might be exhausted and ready to go home at this point, but you’re content to spend the next few minutes dancing to some Calvin Harris song in the arms of your drunk boyfriend, him whispering how much he loves you between the choruses.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea fc imagine #my fics

[lychniis]

❝ i know who i am when i'm alone, i'm something else when i see you. you don't understand, you should never know, how easy you are to need. ❞

HOZIER , IT WILL COME BACK

WELCOME TO ATTAR

the perfumery shall open shortly. please register here [ taglist ], to book an appointment. CLICK HERE TO VIEW UPDATES.

fandoms : genshin impact, honkai star rail

i. WITH THE COMING OF OCTOBER, it's time to set forth kinktober '23! i really appreciate the amount of support i have received from you guys over the past year spent in this blog and i've decided to dip my toes into posting some mature content alongside my usual sfw works!

ii. LET MONSTERS AND HORROR serve our theme, where i hope to entice you with smut ( that has too much plot *shivers in qinxing in the mountain* ), all presented with an array of perfumes to chose from. many thanks to @crystalflygeo for prompt ideas kjhgvbhnj.

iii. PLEASE NOTE THAT THE SCHEDULE IS NOT A FIXED DATE. due to my own projects and college hounding me, the fics will be posted at my own time, though i will endeavor to try and keep them within the constraints of october. they might end up far longer than i would have originally intended.

COMING SOON ON OCTOBER

( note ) : the content linked below is unsuitable for minors. by clicking 'view more', you are verifying yourself as a consenting adult. if you are not of consenting age, then please dni with this post.

SCENT ONE : ( GARDENIA ) ❝ ARARE LITUS ❞ feat. neuvillette.

people round the port have gone missing in the recent weeks, their bodies found by the beaches, clearly having drowned to their miserable ends. neuvillette questions the motives of the person behind it, till he notices the presence of an inquisitive oceanfolk beneath the waters.

⚠︎ CW : mermaid ! reader, dragon ! neuvillete, mentioned murder, reader being very naïve in terms of how humans work, angst / hurt / comfort, fluff domesticity, give these guys a hug, canon compliant, first time, lingerie, temperature play, gentle sex, mutual masturbation, body worship, overstimulation.

SCENT TWO : ( PEONY ) ❝ RARA AVIS IN TERRUS ❞ feat. zhongli.

the world was a dangerous place, for one like you. as the hunters draw close, you seek refuge in a dragon's lair, hoping to find a way to live. the dragon in question lingers close and tolerates your presence. you wonder when he'd demand for more. birds, after all, were so easily torn apart by claws and fangs.

⚠︎ CW : bird hybrid ! reader, dragon ! zhongli, monsterfucking, trafficking and hunting, reader had a pretty rough past prior to this, angst / hurt / comfort, fluff, some attempts at world building, canon divergent / au, mating cycles / heat, breeding kink, orgasm denial, size kink, biting / scratching, bondage, sensory deprivation.

SCENT THREE : ( ORCHID ) ❝ TANQUAM EX UNGUE LEONEM ❞ feat. jing yuan

you try to live your life the best you can. you try to be a good person despite the world wearing you down. however, upon stumbling into abcast away angel with liquid madness running through his veins, the loneliness your four walls bring is replaced with something else. meanwhile jing yuan learns of human fragility and how simple it is, for memories to fade away.

⚠︎ CW : canon divergent, angel ! jing yuan, mara plays a part here, talks about mortality and existentialism, reader is terrified and touchstarved, angst and tragedy, bittersweet ending i suppose, sacrifices, face sitting, electrostimulation, strip tease, mirror sex, praise kink, blindfolds, dom / sub.

SCENT FOUR : ( HYDRANGEA ) ❝ ABYSSUS ABYSSUM INVOCAT ❞ feat. childe

you needed to run, run far away lest the monster beneath your bed devours you whole. childe, however, keeps the chase, for he hungers. he was a charming man, that you could agree with; but the demon he hides away scares you and his undying loyalty to the tsaritsa shall be your undoing.

⚠︎ CW : canon compliant, slight foul legacy ! childe, angst and betrayal, bittersweet ending, reader and childe are childhood friends, making a choice, self sacrifice, breath play, masochism, bruises, predator / prey, against a wall, rough sex, dry humping.

taglist — @silentmoths @crystalflygeo @moraxsthrone @hiraethsdesires @dustofthedailylife @celestewritestoomuch @genshinboys @kaelily @ofoceansandtombsanew

AINE | 2023. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.

#&&. my writing !! #kinktober 2023 #genshin impact #honkai star rail #zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli #neuvillette x reader #genshin neuvillette #jing yuan x reader #honkai star rail jing yuan #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #n.sfw ; #attar 2023 ;

[finzphoenix]

Hi guys! Just a little update. I am still very much active and pretty much constantly sitting on my PC, working on stuff as you can see in the upper pictures! ^-^ I'm just...utterly awful at this whole self-promo thing that's so essential for freelance artists.

I'm doing my best to manage Patreon and multiple commissions at the same time while trying to learn, improve and adapt new drawing techniques to grow so I will eventually be able to draw and publish my own comics.

I'm sure that I will at some point be able go back to a more regular uploading schedule on here, but until then please bare with me ^ω^/🖤���

#Sending the best wishes out to all of you btw! I hope your day is going well! ^-^ #Tiny update #Finz stuff #Batman #Batman fandom #DC comics #DC universe #b/w art #Scarecrow #Riddler #Fallout 4 #noir stuff

[tgmsunmontue]

You need to learn how to fall 8/10

Hangster (and IceMav) - Bradley is too tall to be a naval aviator and instead becomes a sky diver, specialising in spin recovery. He is a civilian contractor to the military to teach pilots how to survive parachute spins from ejections. A more in-depth version of this post.

(Likely to be updating this daily now until it's finished, another 2-3 parts max).

PROLOGUE 2003-2006 2007-2010 2011-2015 2016+ ~2019 ~2019 (contd 1)

>>Bradley

>>Jake

(2019 continued - Part 2)

                He’s offered a drink and he accepts a cup of coffee, even if it’s the last thing his nerves need. Maverick is watching him over his own hot drink, and Iceman is quietly sitting there and Jake feels so out of his depth. He’s not familiar enough with the Admiral, but he’s never clocked a wedding ring on Maverick in the last couple of weeks, but there is definitely one there now and the Admiral is wearing one as well. Okay then. A plate of plane-shaped shortbread is on the coffee table and he stares at them, because this all feels a little surreal. Maverick sees him staring at them and pushes the plate closer.

                “You can have some, they’re good. Ice’s favorite.”

                “I know they’re good. Bradley sent me some…”

                “Did he now? Should have known he didn’t eat that many himself…” Iceman murmurs quietly and Jake can hear the underlying amusement and he wonders how Bradley managed to talk all about his upbringing and at the same time completely fail to mention who he lived with. Who raised him. He wonders when exactly Bradley was planning on telling him and he reaches for a cookie. He’s chewing when he hears steps thump up onto the porch and he doesn’t miss the look the Maverick and Iceman exchange.

                “Hey, I’m home! Whose car is in the drive?”

                “We’re through here!” Iceman calls out, and Jake would swear he’s holding back laughter. Then Bradley is standing in the doorway, curls almost brushing the top of the doorframe and even travel-rumpled he looks good. Jake stands, brushes his hands on his pants and is torn between what he should do.

                “Shit. Jake. Hi.” At least he looks happy to see him, grinning and Jake grins back, immediately feeling more relaxed at Bradley’s easy acceptance of his unexpected presence.

                “Hi. Was going to surprise you.”

                “Think he got the surprise though.”

                “Pete, shut up,” Iceman says, and he’s standing as well, reaching and tugging on Maverick’s hand.

                “We’ll leave you to it. Nice to meet you Jake.”

                “And you sir.”

                He turns back to Bradley, who has shifted into the room, letting Maverick and Iceman move past him and he looks nervous now, glancing at where Maverick and Iceman have disappeared to and back to Jake.

                “So. There’s that. Still want to date me?”

                The expression on his face is blank and Jake realizes it’s a challenge, that maybe he thinks Jake will say no because he’s now in the too-hard basket or something. Well, he’s going to learn that Jake never backs down from a challenge, and he’s wanted this for years and he’s not going to let a Captain and an Admiral stop him. Especially as all they seem to be is amused by the whole thing.

                “Yes.”

                “Really?”

                “I mean, I would have liked a heads up, but I –”

                “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out this way. I wanted to tell you in person, because I know they’re kind of a big deal…”

                “Not your fault, I shouldn’t have just turned up on your doorstep.”

                “You turned up on my doorstep…” Bradley says, and the grin he gives Jake then is bright, fingers are tugging at his belt loops, drawing him close and he can feel the heat building between their bodies.

                “I sure did. Hi.”

                “Not actually his doorstep, his doorstep is next door… It’s A for Admiral and B for Bradley, it’s not that hard to remember!”

                “Mav! For fucks sake, leave them alone. Sorry about him. Though you do have your own place Bradley…”

                “Yeah yeah, going now… I’m just going to go and grab my bag. One second.”

                Then Bradley is going back outside, Jake doesn’t even get a word in, and the Admiral is back, looking at him, and it’s definitely Admiral Kazansky, not Tom or Iceman, expression deadly serious.

                “Lieutenant. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention to anyone what you learnt tonight.”

                “Learnt what? I simply surprised Bradley on his return home sir,” Jake states, because he can keep his mouth shut, especially for this. Also he hates to think about any of the alternatives if he doesn’t. Oh fuck, he can never break Bradley’s heart. He’ll be a dead man. Or permanently stationed in the South Pacific shuttling shellbacks back and forth over the equator, or in Antarctica watching Hercules land and take off and then nothing but darkness for months on end.

                “Good man. Thank you.”

…             …             …

                Bradley leads Jake through to his part of house, shoves the door open and then deadlocks it behind him, dumping his bags and turning toward Jake. It’s still relatively early, they could go out for dinner, if that’s what Jake wanted.

                “Sorry about that trial by fire, I really didn’t mean for you to have to go through that. At least not without me there as well.”

                “It’s okay. Could have been a lot worse. I am very curious as to how you know them though…”

                “Mav is my godfather. My dad knew Tom from flight school, and they were all at Top Gun when my dad died. So I inherited a lot of honorary uncles and all of them fly… jumping out of planes to get away from them was just a coping mechanism…” Bradley jokes, and he doesn’t get much further as Jake’s hand is in his hair, fingers twisting in his curls, bringing his face down to meet his lips with a kiss. It’s gorgeously soft, gentle but with layers of promise and intensity and he lets himself just melt into it; the relief of Jake being completely unworried about Ice and Mav washing through him. He feels Jake’s hand on his hip, bringing him close and he lets himself press close.

                “Welcome home,” Jake murmurs against his lips, and he grins, places another kiss against the corner of his lips.

                “Mmm. Definitely up there with the top five best times I’ve come home…”

                “Let’s take it into first place hmm?”

                “You sure I can’t interest you in dinner, or a shower? We don’t have to, uh, just fall into having sex… not that I have a problem with that either.”

                “All of the above, I could eat, definitely interested in helping you shower, more than interested in having sex. But it’s not just sex. I want to date you…”

                “Yeah… okay. That all sounds great. We’ve been dancing around each other for long enough I guess…”

                “And whose fault is that?”

                “Couldn’t have you thinking I was easy.”

                “Nothing about you suggests that you’re easy. However, everything suggests that you’re worth it…”

                Bradley can feel the flush in his cheeks, embarrassed at the sincerity in Jake’s voice, but Jake is running a hand over his chest, stomach, pressing firmer over his crotch where he is definitely getting hard and he groans, lets his own hand squeeze one of Jake’s ass cheeks.

                “How about we place a food order for something to be delivered in… hmm… ninety minutes. That’ll give us enough time for that shower.”

                “Jesus, how long are your showers?”

                “It’s what comes after the first shower and before the second shower…”

                “I’m an idiot…”

                “It’s okay, I think you might be a little distracted right now.”

                “You’re a menace,” Bradley mutters, ducking his head enough to nip at Jake’s neck.

                “You like it.”

                “I do…”

                They figure out what to order, but the whole time they orbit each other, Jake doesn’t seem to want to stop touching him, like he doesn’t want to risk Bradley disappearing on him and he has no reason not to accommodate it. Let’s him flick the buttons on his shirt out, place kisses on skin as it’s exposed and he returns the favor, undresses Jake with the same level of care.

                “How?” Jake asks, his fingers running lightly over the scars on his chin, jaw, neck.

                “Bad landing. Came in too fast. Broke my arm…”

                “Oh, I watched a video of that.”

                “Really?”

                Jake blushes and Bradley forces himself not to laugh in delight, thinking that Jake is obviously as enamored of him to have looked at old jump videos. He pulls him under the spray of water and lets the warm water fall over them, brings the shower head much lower than he usually has it so Jake can actually look at him without getting a face full of water.

                “Yeah, a while ago now.”

                “Really? How long ago?”

                “Few years. When we first met,” Jake says, head ducking to not meet his eyes, mouth sucking at the skin of his left pec in an obvious attempt to distract him, so he lets Jake get his way. Runs a hand through Jake’s now slick hair, urges him to meet his mouth in a kiss, shifts his body to press against him, lets his free hand run to cup Jake’s growing erection.

                “God your hands… they feel huge.”

                “I’m proportional,” Bradley says, gripping tighter, starting a slow teasing hand job.

                “Yeah you are… holy shit.”

                “Shut up, you’re making me self-conscious.”

                “No wonder your brain stops working, all your blood is needed here…” Jake says, palming Bradley’s cock and he laughs, presses himself into Jake’s hand.

                They stand there, unrushed, hands moving on each other’s cocks, mouths licking over wet skin, back to kissing before exploring somewhere else. The skin over Jake’s collar irritates easily, his moustache making the skin red, and he wonders if it’s going to be a thing all over, scrapes his chin with its stubble over the flesh of Jake’s shoulder and yep, looks like it. He’s achingly hard and a little surprised at it, then realizes it’s probably the weeks and months of flirting, this build-up, the wanting this, gaining momentum with every message and phone call, regardless of the content.

                He feels Jake’s hand slip around them both and he grunts, shifts a little to accommodate the height difference because while Jake’s not short, he’s also nowhere near as tall as Bradley. He lets his hand cover Jake’s, moves with it, catches Jake’s mouth with his own and revels in the little broken sounds they’re both making.

                All his senses feel hyperaware, the smooth feel of Jake’s skin under his fingers as he touches his cock, body pressed against him in other places, Jake’s fingers digging into his bicep, his own fingers in Jake’s hair. The non-taste of the shower water making the taste of Jake’s mouth even sweeter where he can taste the coffee and lemon-rosemary shortbread he’d been eating. There’s no build up of scent, the running water doesn’t allow for it, but he gets little whiffs, sweaty arousal before it’s rinsed away. The sound of water hitting the hard tiles, glass door and skin creating all sorts of different rhythms, slick skin and their shared breath, coming faster as their lips slide in messy kisses.

                The sight though, the sight he’s being afforded is something else again. Golden hue of Jake’s skin turned red in places by Bradley’s own doing, dark blonde hair turned dark under the water, lips swollen, cock disappearing between their joined hands, his eyes either watching Bradley with intensity or squeezing tightly shut as his hips jerk a little into their combined grip. It’s all stunning. He can’t tell if Jake’s close, doesn’t know him like this well enough, looks forward to becoming well acquainted with all his tells.

                “Close, god you’re hot…”

                “Fuck yes, come on…”

                He doesn’t bother holding back, lets his orgasm wash through him, his entire body shuddering with the release and he groans appreciatively. Feels good. So good. Now he can focus on Jake, drop to his knees and suck him off, or keep the hand job going, whatever the hell he wants, Bradley will give it to him. Which is a harder firmer grip on his cock, Jake guiding his hand now. He tightens and jerks quickly, presses his mouth to Jake’s neck and sucks, feels Jake starting to tremble and he moves quickly, letting go for the briefest of moments which still draws a whine of discontent from Jake. Then he’s behind him, his cock pressing against Jake’s ass, but the angle for his hand is imminently better and he can’t kiss Jake easily like this, but he can definitely focus on getting him off and he murmurs words against the edge of Jake’s ear, tells him how much he wants to see him come apart for him.

                Jake shakes and trembles as he comes and Bradley holds him against his chest, his hand slowing until Jake jerks away, over sensitive and he pulls his hand away; peppering the back of Jake’s neck and across his shoulders with kisses before Jake is turning and kissing him firmly, hands on either side of his face.

                “Welcome home. Properly.”

                “Welcome home handjob. That’s a tradition I could get behind…”

                “I aim to please…” Jake says, and Bradley can feel the smile against his chest and he can’t stop smiling in return.

                They dry off and he’s a little disappointed to note that the redness of beard burn is fading already, he goes through his drawers and tries to find something that might fit Jake, their torsos are similarly sized, but his pants are all going to swim on him.

                “Get you something of Mav’s to wear…” Bradley says as he watches Jake pull on a pair of his old pajama pants, rolling up the legs. He looks soft, hair going fluffy, also wearing one of Bradley’s old University t-shirts, which actually fits given how much it’s shrunk over the years. He draws Jake down onto the sofa with him, tucks himself around him and lets himself exhale, feeling warm and content, everything settling around him.

                He can’t believe that Jake’s here, not just here in San Diego but in his home. The warm honey-like joy crystallizes into something harder, colder and he realizes that Jake is here, being trained by Mav for something, because he’d still be having nearly daily phone calls with them while he was away. They’ve become very accustomed at having conversation which speak volumes without giving specifics. He doesn’t have that practice with Jake though, hadn’t thought about getting further information from either Mav or Ice. Doesn’t know if he wants to bring it up but can’t ignore what he knows is coming.

                “So, you’re here for whatever top secret mission Mav is currently working on, the one that is making Ice incapable of sleeping. Potentially a mission that Mav is also going on, which means it’s fucking risky because his call sign isn’t Maverick because he plays it safe.”

                “You jump out of planes for a living.”

                “Yes, and yet there are still less deaths in that then there are amongst naval aviators.”

                Jake lets out a long breath and Bradley waits.

                “What do you know about the mission?”

                “Nothing. Well. Highly classified. Mav having to teach a bunch of young upstarts. I commiserated with him.” Jake snorts and ducks his head, flushes a little and he wonders what else is there that he doesn’t know about. “When do you fly out?”

                “Monday, oh-five-hundred.”

                “Fuck. So a little over two days.”

                “Yeah. You can see why I didn’t particularly want to wait until tomorrow night to see you.”

                “Yeah, I’m glad you decided to come see me tonight… how did you get the address anyway?”

                “You put it on the package of cookies you sent me.”

                “Oh. Right. Of course, makes sense that it was just… not my part of the house address. I do actually have my own front door. You aren’t going to have to go through Mav and Ice each time you want to see me.”

                “I’d do it anyway.”

PART NINE

#Top Gun fanfic #Hangster #you need to learn how to fall #IceMav #Sereshaw

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-one

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

you keep going. you have to keep going.

a/n: so I haven’t been on here in a hot second BUT I’ve been writing this story like a crazy person, lots more to come, thanks for all the love 🤍

word count: 7.2k

warnings: lil smut for your saturday, big emotions, ellie and liv forever 🤍

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

Joel knows that he’s dreaming.

He hasn’t let himself dream for a long time now. Every night, he’s feigned sleep, while you insist on taking watch, Ellie even offering herself up a few hours at a time. It’s partially a conscious decision, partially not. There are nights when he wants sleep, wants to drift off just for a few hours, but his body won’t let him. He lays there with his eyes shut, trying to keep his memories at bay, but it always takes more effort than he expects, and before he knows it, the sun is rising once again.

But right now? Definitely dreaming.

It’s a strange sensation, being conscious of a dream while you’re in it. But it’s the best dream he’s had in years, so he begs his body to stay asleep a while longer, just so he can see how this plays out.

He’s home. Back in Austin, not your shared apartment in Boston, but his old house, his old bedroom. More specifically, sprawled on his bed, mid-morning light filtering through the curtains. The mattress feels so real beneath him, the springs creaking as he moves, but it’s only a backdrop to what’s really happening.

You, wrapped in his arms, back pressed to his chest. He swears he can feel how sweat-slick your skin is, smell the scent of your hair, hear the rapid thunk of your heart beneath his palms. He’s buried in your body, deep as he can go, your back arching with the force of him, whines falling from your lips as you beg him for more.

“Please, Joel,” you murmur, one hand reaching back to fist the hair at the back of his head. “Oh my god, please, I’m—”

Never one to deny you, waking or asleep, he lets one hand drop, skimming the curve of your stomach and finding your clit with ease. You keen as he draws little circles, burying his face in your neck, kissing at your throat.

“C’mon, baby,” he rasps, teeth scraping your jaw. “Lemme feel it, lemme—”

A crashing sound rings through his ears, making his whole body jolt, and the dream vanishes, his eyes shooting open.

“Fuck!” you curse, and Joel turns to see you crouched near the old desk in the corner of the watchtower. One of the drawers has fallen to the floor — obviously the source of the noise — and you’re trying to scoop the contents back in; maps and notebooks and random photographs. Joel groans as he sits up straight, lifting his body off the mattress, and you look at him over your shoulder, brows shooting up to your hairline. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” The drawer literally collapses in your hands and Joel has to stifle his laugh as he gets to his feet. You groan at the mess on the floor, head dropping back on your shoulders.

“S’okay,” he tells you, reaching for your arm and pulling you up to stand. Your stance is sure now, but it’s old habit for him to support you, though your leg has healed. You’ve been in the tower for two and a half weeks now; the first two had you laid up in one of the mattresses, Joel and Ellie both refusing to let you up unless it was absolutely necessary. Your leg is still wrapped in a bandage — fresh ones from the first aid kit you found in the tower — but there’s no blood bloomed through, and it looked almost completely healed when Joel checked it last night. You’re out of the woods, and he knows you need to get going soon. You’re antsy, and he can see it. He’s just as bad.

You sigh into his grip, reaching up to drape your arms around his neck. “But you were sleeping,” you say with emphasis, and he knows you’ve been watching him just as much as he’s been watching you. “I didn’t want to wake you at all.”

Joel shakes his head, leaning forward to tuck his nose into your neck, lips grazing your jaw. “Slept enough, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you close to him. “Just interrupted a dream I was havin’.”

“A dream?” you repeat, and he hums, grabbing your hips and pulling yours flush with his. He’s hard, pressing against the zipper of his jeans, his whole body nearly shaking with need. Your lips part softly, a quiet inhale that makes him even harder. “Was it a good dream?”

“Lemme show you,” he replies, reaching for the button on your jeans. “Where’s the kid?” 

“Downstairs,” you tell him, tilting your head to the door. “Told her to stay down there, to let you sleep.”

“Well, I’m done sleepin’, baby,” he grits as he unzips your fly. He brings his hand to his mouth, sucks two fingers past his lips, then slips them down the front of your pants, right past the band of your underwear. “Fuck, when’s the last time I touched you like this, huh?”

He watches your face, the way your bottom lip quivers, and right when he thinks you’re actually going to answer, he pushes his hand lower, curls his fingers up and into you. You squeak, nearly collapsing in his arms, and Joel can’t help the satisfaction that roils through him.

You clench around his fingers as he pushes deeper and your knees waver, your hands clinging to his shoulders. “Fuck,” you curse again, moaning when he wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer, getting a better angle. “We need to be—” You cut yourself off, eyes rolling back when he finds that spot, the tips of his fingers rubbing circles. “Faster, Joel.”

“Faster, huh?” he almost taunts, but gives you what you ask for. “You want it just like this, huh? Y’know, I was dreamin’ we were back home, that I was fucking you in our bed. You were beggin’ me so pretty.”

“Please,” you gasp, your hand fisting the front of his flannel, pulling him close enough to make your noses brush. “Fuck me, please, baby.”

You whine when he drags his fingers from you, but he doesn’t waste any time, turning you around and pushing you against the table in the middle of the room. You plant your hands, bending over the edge as he shoves your pants down, just enough to see the shine of slick against the inside of your thighs, the evidence you need this just as badly as he does. He doesn’t have time to strip you down completely, but one of these days, he’ll—

“Joel.”

He frees himself from his jeans, his cock aching and leaking as he kicks your legs wide and lines himself up. Your whole body stutters as he drags himself along your heat, coating himself with your wetness. His other hand finds your hip, digging his fingers in hard. You call his name again, your voice a rasp in the air, and he pushes into you, breathy exhales filling the space between you as he fills you to the hilt. Just as fucking tight as he remembers, just as hot and perfect and…you.

The need and the desperation get the better of him, kicking his pace into high gear the instant he’s buried to the hilt. He can feel the shift, gripping both your hips, and your hands cover his, keeping him in place. Your head turns slightly, eyes meeting his, big and wide and just as full of lust as he feels. 

He gets you impossibly closer, keeping his hips tight to your ass and thrusting so hard your boots nearly lift off the ground. It pulls the most delicious sound from your mouth, your hand shooting back to dig your nails into his ass. “Jesus Christ.”

Joel hauls you up, banding one arm under your chest, his lips at your ear. “Yeah, baby? Tell me how good it feels.”

“So fucking good,” you babble, squeezing his ass, canting your hips back into him, driving him deeper. “Missed you — ah! — touching me like…like this.”

He had more words, more dirty things to murmur in your ear, but you take his mouth for your own, squeaking against his lips when he moves his other hand between your legs, thumbing at your clit. You clench around him, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard he’s sure you’ll draw blood, confirmed when he tastes iron a second later. But he doesn’t care, too engrossed in the way you twitch in his arms, thighs quaking around his hand, the breathy moans that fall out of you. 

How is it possible to miss someone who’s been right beside you the entire time?

It hits him like a ton of bricks as he works you through your orgasm, his movements sharper, trying to draw out your pleasure as much as he can. Your body goes lax, your lips still kissing his, both of your mouths smeared with his blood, but Joel doesn’t care.

His own body goes tight, pleasure creeping up his spine, slithering through his aching bones. The pain in his chest hasn’t made an appearance since you found the watchtower, and in this moment, he doesn’t even remember what it felt like, too preoccupied with how good you feel, your body wringing pleasure from his the same way he did to you.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see his face, darting between his bloody lip and his eyes and back again. You kiss him again, sucking his bottom lip between your own, laving your tongue along the curve. His hips snap against your ass, that peak growing closer and closer with every touch you offer. He sees the recognition in your eyes, the spark of knowledge as you tighten your grip on him.

“Baby,” you murmur, your gaze softening, the corner of your lip curling up as his pace stutters. You cover his hands with your own, squeezing your fingers around his wrists, pushing your body back into his. “You fuck me so good, love me so good.” You steal another kiss. “Love you so goddamned much.”

His brow furrows, hands tightening on you, fingers curling against your ribs. He growls into your mouth, nerves set alight, the feeling barrelling up and down and side to side, making his toes numb in his boots. He cums with a shout, one you catch with your own lips as he staggers, nearly losing his grip on you as he spills himself deep. It makes you hum, your grip going tighter, and now it’s you holding him upright, your lips all over his cheek, one hand lifting to brush through his hair.

Once he’s caught his breath, you let out a little breathy giggle, your arms still around each other. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat as he slips out of you. “I just…needed that.”

You reach up, running your thumb over where you bit his lip. “You definitely don’t need to apologize for that, Joel. I’m sorry for biting you so hard.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I liked it.”

As you clean each other up, finding spare rags to clean the mess between your legs, wetting another to dab at the blood on Joel’s lip, he forgets, just for a moment. Forgets about the world outside, the terror and the violence that seem to follow you all around. For a moment, you’re just two people in love, as desperate for each other now as you were when you first met twenty-two years ago. You’re just…you.

You pull your jeans back up, inspecting your bandage after you do. Joel steps close to you. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, a relaxed smile on your face. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw you look like that — relaxed.

As you straighten, he pulls you back into the circle of his arms, fitting his arms around your shoulders. Your hands slip under his flannel, palms flat against his skin. He tugs at your hair, lifting your face until his nose brushes yours. Your lips part, words on the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to the punch.

“I love you,” he whispers, well aware that his hands are shaking. You nudge your nose against his, pulling him closer. He drops his jaw, capturing your lips again, but softly this time. He adjusts his grip, hands lifting to cup your face, thumb swiping across your cheek. The cut on your face has also healed, a thin scar left behind. Joel traces it as you deepen the kiss, your tongue touching his.

Ellie clears her throat in the doorway and you both jump apart, you covering your face with your hand while Joel braces his hands on his hips, staring at the floor. She doesn’t say anything at first, stepping into the tower and tossing her gun onto the table in the middle — the table he’d just—

“What happened to your mouth?” she asks suddenly, brow furrowing at Joel. His head snaps up, brows rising.

“Huh?”

“Your lip is bleeding.”

“Oh.” He lifts his hand to his mouth, feeling his cheeks heat. “Uh—”

You stifle a laugh, turning away with a guilty look on your face, finding something in the corner of the room infinitely more interesting.

The kid’s eyes dart between the two of you, and then she makes a face. “Gross.”

+

One month later, on the outskirts of Cody, Wyoming…

You’re all dragging your heels. 

Ellie’s asleep on her feet, and Joel is so overtired that his senses are in overdrive. You can see it in the way his head swivels on his neck, eyes flitting every direction, coasting over where you’re stood on his bad side, bat over your shoulder, gun in hand. He’s still carting the rifle, knife at his hip, and Ellie has her not-so-secret gun. You feel better knowing she’s armed and feel shitty knowing how fucked up that thought process is.

Since you left the tower, winter has caught up with you. The snow came and left, then came and stuck, and it was very quickly apparent that the jackets you’d carried with you from Boston weren’t going to cut it. The chill in your bones had you detouring through neighbourhoods, reminiscent of your smuggling days, picking through houses over the remnants of people’s lives. You make Ellie and Joel keep watch most of the time, wanting to keep them safe from whatever horrors might be lurking behind closed doors.

You get lucky. You find a thick leather coat for Joel, wool-lined and worn in. For Ellie, what you think might have been a boy’s winter jacket, but it’s heavy enough to keep her warm and fits her fine. For you, one of those ridiculously patterned flannel-sherpa monstrosities you’re sure your mother had six of back in the nineties. It’s almost not warm enough, but you manage to find a few more layers to wear underneath and it works. 

You find a few hats — one of which you have to all but force onto Ellie’s head — and leather gloves to match Joel’s jacket. It’s easy enough to find boots for you and Ellie, the tall, lace-up kind that hug your calves and keep the snow out. For Joel, every pair you find isn’t the right size, or the soles are worse off than the ones he’s been wearing. What you do find is duct tape, and he wraps his boots in it, waving you off when you try to help.

Part of you wishes you’d stayed in the watchtower. It wasn’t the perfect place — it got drafty as hell once the temperature started to drop — but you had a good vantage point. The supplies you found would have lasted a bit longer, and you could have gone back to Omaha to look for more. 

Part of you wanted to stay, but a bigger part wanted to go. Once your leg was healed, you just wanted to keep moving. Whatever this is, you want to see it through. You’ve lost too much since leaving Boston, you refuse to tuck your tail between your legs and just give it up. 

Another part, a part that’s small sometimes, and so big sometimes you think it might swallow you whole, that part doesn’t want any of this. It wants to find a place, somewhere safe, somewhere far from FEDRA and the Fireflies and the past you left behind, just for you. For you and for Joel and…

And for Ellie.

You can’t deny the protectiveness you feel for her. Right from that first night, you just had to keep her safe, had to keep her as whole as you possibly could in a world that wants the polar opposite. You look at her, remember what you’ve agreed to do, to just hand her over to the Fireflies. What will they do with her, what will they…?

Never mind your own feelings, but you’ve seen her and Joel lately, since you left Kansas City. Something’s changed, shifted. You know Joel will be the last person to admit it, but there’s a kinship, a kindness between them that didn’t exist before. He’s still your gruff old man, through and through, but his edges that were once soft only for you have smoothed out for her, too. It’s little things — passing a can of soup back and forth, Joel making sure she’s got a good grip on the warm metal before letting go — and the bigger ones too. When you first left the watchtower, shortly after the first snow, Ellie had nearly tumbled down the hill, but Joel had been closer than you, and he’d grabbed her before she could fall, hauling her back and onto steady feet, keeping her pressed to his chest until she caught her breath again.

You saw the flicker in his face when her arms wrapped around his middle, and the twinge in his expression when she let go, giving a shaky laugh and stepping away from him.

They’ve gotten closer, but Joel’s different on his own. He still has those pinched expressions when he thinks you’re not looking, looks of pain that he forces mild when he catches you looking. The closer you get to Cody, potentially to Tommy, the more antsy he gets. You know he’ll never admit it, but you know exactly what’s going on in his head. You’ve come all this way, and what if…

What if you don’t find Tommy?

Or worse, what if you do find him and—

No. You cut the thought short. You can’t let yourself think like that. No good will come of it.

You’ll find the Cody Tower. You’ll find Tommy and he’ll help you find the Fireflies, and this will all—

“Liv!”

You’ve only just reached the outskirts of the city. Wrapped in your own head, your mind going a million miles a minute, you didn’t realize you’d gotten close to the buildings, the flattened cityscape that looks like something out of an old Western. Joel grabs you from behind, clamping a hand over your mouth and wrenching you backwards, your boots scuffing against the pavement as he drags you, stifling your surprised noise when you see the sight before you.

Off in the distance, the control tower is plain as day. Your mind paints a taunting image of Tommy perched on the top platforms, speaking into a radio, talking to you and to Joel, telling you where he’s gone, what he’s doing. 

The town below is less taunting, more nightmare.

Clickers, everywhere. 

As far as your eye can see, wandering and twitching their way through the streets, tripping over abandoned cars and cracked hunks of pavement. The odd screech reaches your ears, sending chills down your spine. You let Joel drag you back, your body going willingly, pushing yourself back into his arms as you go. Ellie is frozen in place as you pass, her eyes glued to the sight before you, and you grab the hood of her coat as you pass, pulling her along with you.

Joel doesn’t release you until you’re back over the hill you’d just crested, until you’re out of earshot, out of sight. Your heart is racing, thumping against your ribs, and you get your bearings, letting go of Joel enough to grab his hand and Ellie’s, pulling them off the road and into the forest lining the road.

But Joel doesn’t move.

He’s still as a statue in the middle of the road, the hill stretching below, a straight shot through Cody. Even at a further distance now, you can hear them, those awful noises, like some kind of demonic birdsong. Ellie grips your hand tightly and you put yourself between her and the town below. “Joel, we need to move,” you say, tugging on his wrist. Nothing. “Joel—”

“He was in Cody,” he murmurs, his voice nearly carried away on the wind that sweeps through, ruffling your hair and his, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “He was there. D’you think that he…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. The rifle falls from his grip, hanging against his shoulder, and his hand flies to his throat, boots sliding as his body tilts. He’s white as a fucking ghost. You pull your hand from Ellie’s, reaching for him. He grunts as you move in front of him, bearing his weight, trying to keep him upright.

“Liv—” Ellie starts, but you cut her off.

“Go to the trees,” you tell her, giving her a pointed look. “Go, and don’t move till I say, you hear me?”

She nods, her face nearly solemn, and heads for the tree line.

“Joel,” you call, and he gives you no response, his hands on your shoulders and his breath wheezing out of his chest. It’s coming fast, his entire body shaking with every inhale, every exhale. “Joel, honey, I’m right here.”

“What if he…” He trails off again, his eyes moving past you, back to the town. “Tommy…”

“Tommy’s alive,” you say, making your voice as stern as you can be, ignoring the panic rising in your own chest. “He’s alive and he sure as hell isn’t down there. We need to get someplace safe, okay? We need to figure out where to go next.”

“But he—”

You grab his chin in your hand, force his eyes on yours. “Your brother is a smart man, Joel, much as you hate to admit it. And he left Boston a long time ago. He wouldn’t have stuck around long enough to get caught up in something like that. He’s alive, and we’re going to find him. You hear me?”

His chest is still rising rapidly, his hands shaking as they move down to your biceps, squeezing so tight you feel it through your jacket and sweater. “I don’t know what…” He shakes his head, some of the colour returning to his cheeks. The wind howls and his eyes finally drop, pinched shut as he relaxes slightly into your grip, his breath starting to come a touch slower.

“I know,” you tell him, pressing your chest to his, hoping he’ll feel your even breaths, that his body will respond and try to match them. “I’ve had that thought more times than I care to admit. We have to believe he’s alive, Joel, and that we’ll find him. We will.”

His shoulders sag and he pulls you against him, his temple against your forehead as he exhales slowly. “We will.”

+

“We’re lost.”

“We’re not fuckin’ lost,” Joel grumbles, swinging his bag from his shoulder. He pulls out the map, shoves it in your direction, and you give Ellie a glare as you unfold it, the lines and dots instantly giving you more of a headache than you already have.

“Really?” she quips, and you let your eyes flutter shut, pushing the map back at Joel. “Then where the fuck are we?”

He gives you a pointed look, brow raised, but you ignore it, scrubbing your gloved hand over your face. It’s fucking cold. You feel like you haven’t slept in three days — realistically, you know that’s not completely true, but the little sleep you have gotten hasn’t been nearly enough, and the thrum in the back of your mind has been near constant. You’re burning out, desperate for some real food, water that hasn’t been hastily boiled over a campfire, and at least eighteen hours of sleep. Hell, even eight would do the trick.

You’ve been walking since sunrise. Almost three days past Cody. You walked through (past? You can’t be sure…) Yellowstone a day and a half in, and you’re all dragging each other along. The roads are hell, covered in snow, the blanket of white a welcome repaint to the landscape, but it helps hide the things that go bump in the night. Infected aren’t the only things you have to worry about in the mountains.

Joel furrows his brow at the map, yanking his gloves off to trace the path he’s after. You’ve been following the map, using whatever landmarks you can to find the next town. Joel mentioned Jackson, you thought maybe Yellowstone would have a camp of some sort — the park was big enough they could have put up some sort of outpost or camp when the outbreak came — but your path proved otherwise. Whatever had been set up in the park’s boundary was long gone.

There’s a marked path Joel’s been trying to follow, but the snow is not helpful. You think you’ve been sticking to it, but with every step, you feel more and more unsure. What if you’re going in the wrong direction? You trust Joel, you know he’s good for this stuff, that he wouldn’t risk it — risk you — if he wasn’t sure, but after his episode outside Cody, your worry for him has only grown stronger. 

But you have to keep going.

It’s Ellie, that spots the cabin off in the distance. Small, tucked behind a wooden fence you’d guess is about chest height. Smoke pours out of the chimney. The relief that floods you is tinged with wariness, but it’s the first sign of actual living human life since you left Kansas City, and part of you wants to grab onto it as tight as you can.

The other part knows you can’t be stupid about this. You have to be careful.

By the time you get close enough to scope the place out, night has nearly fallen, and you make camp just inside the trees, out of line of sight from the cabin, but still able to keep an eye out. Joel insists on taking the majority of watch, and you let him, honestly too tired to fight with him otherwise. The little sleep you get is fitful, too many noises in the forest keeping you awake, Ellie’s murmurs in her sleep putting you on high alert, listening closely for any sounds of distress. You huddle close on the sleeping bags, keeping each other warm while Joel paces the small camp you’ve made.

You’re up with the sun, feeling like you barely got back to sleep when you’re being pulled out of it, and Joel has a plan. “It’s an older couple,” he informs you, scratching at his forehead, passing you a cup of coffee. You’ve rationed what you found back in KC best you can, but you’re getting down to the dregs and the grounds are more and more stale. But it’s caffeine, and you’re grateful all the same. “Husband looks like a hunter. I say we wait it out, wait for him to leave, then get in there. Get the wife to point us in the right direction. Figure out where the hell we are, if they’ve ever heard of Tommy, if he passed through here.”

“What if she doesn’t want to help us?” Ellie asks, and the waver in her voice pulls at something in your chest. You stare down into your coffee.

Joel pulls his gun out of his pocket, bare fingers curled around the handle. “We make sure she does.”

“Joel—” you start, but he shakes his head.

“We’ve been walking for days, Liv. I know you’ve been thinkin’ the same as I have. This is the first real thing we’ve found; I won’t walk away until we’ve found all we can.”

You swallow hard, the coffee bitter on your tongue. “Okay,” you nod, “but we ask politely first.”

His jaw ticks. “Yes, dear.”

Florence lets you inside with little issue. She actually laughs at Ellie’s whispered what the fuuuuuuck when you step into the cabin. The warmth that floods your body nearly makes you crumple on the spot, but you keep upright, taking in the log interior, the animal skulls and all manner of tools and equipment hanging from the walls.

Joel pushes ahead of the two of you, gun raised, scanning the space. “Anyone else here?”

“Just me,” the older woman says, almost smiling. “You waited until Marlon left.”

“He looked like a shoot first, ask questions later type,” Joel says, and she laughs again.

“He is.”

Keeping the gun at hand, Joel steps through the cabin, poking around doors, heading up to the loft to make sure it’s empty too. You and Ellie stand there awkwardly, teeth chattering as your bodies get used to the warmth.

“Sit down, girls,” Florence instructs, getting out of her chair with some effort. “I’ll make you some soup.”

“You don’t have t—” you protest, but she waves you off as she heads to the kitchen area.

“It’s cold out there.”

Joel comes back down the stairs, satisfied with his search, and Ellie sinks down on the couch, clearly unable to resist a soft seat. You’re tense, and Joel stands beside you, one hand in the middle of your back, the other still holding his gun aloft.

“Joel,” you start, but he shakes his head again, just like he had.

“Where is she?”

“Making soup,” Ellie answers and his brows shoot up. 

It’s a good few minutes of quiet, and you sit down beside Ellie, every bone in your body creaking as you hit the cushion. Joel puts himself between the two of you and Florence, her back to you, the clatter of dishes the only sound.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Joel says, “just need to know where we are.”

The woman nods as she turns back, two bowls of soup in her hands as she walks back toward the couch. You and Ellie accept them with mumbled thanks, and she goes back to get a third bowl for Joel before sinking back into her rocking chair, regarding the three of you.

“You got a map?”

About an hour later, the bowls are empty, you can feel your toes again, and Ellie’s cheeks are not nearly as rosy as they’d been when she woke up this morning. The map sits on the table in front of you, and your eyes are trained on the spot Florence had pointed to. Joel is still rigid, pacing the cabin with the gun in his hand, ignoring you when you tell him to put it away.

Florence is still in her rocking chair, and she pauses mid-rock, head turning toward the door. “He’s back.”

“Ellie, upstairs,” you say, and she shoots you a wide-eyed look, but you press. “Now.”

She sighs as she darts upstairs, like she’s annoyed to not be in the line of fire, and Joel pulls you up off the couch, bringing you with him into the kitchen, out of sight of the front door.

The man you assume to be Marlon steps through the front door a beat later, unzipping his coat and setting a hunting bow down on the nearby table. Florence just watches, rocking back and forth in her chair, but you don’t miss the way her eyes meet his and then flick to the pair of you tucked to the side.

Marlon takes a step forward, and Joel moves at the same time. “And the gun, too.”

Your brow lifts. You hadn’t noticed the holster at Marlon’s belt, but Joel had. “Who the hell are you?”

Joel steps around the room slowly, his own gun lifted and pointed at the older man. “Just someone passin’ through.” You stay where you are, watching the scene unfold before you. Joel stops, gestures to Marlon. “Take the gun out, two fingers only, put it outta reach.”

You have to admit the thread of power in his voice makes a shiver race down your spine. And it’s not from the cold.

Marlon does as asked, pulling the pistol out almost mockingly, shaking it in the air before setting it down — out of reach, like Joel said.

“Why didn’t you shoot ‘em?” Marlon asks, jutting his chin at his wife.

“Gun’s all the way over there,” Florence replies, looking toward the kitchen. You realize she could have — when she went to make you all soup, she easily could have grabbed the gun and started shooting. Three against one wouldn’t be an easy fight for the woman, but it would have been something. “He didn’t hurt me, by the way,” she tacks onto the end, her voice almost sarcastic.

“Yeah, I got eyes,” Marlon grumbles, and steps a little closer, gesturing at the table in front of the couch, your empty bowls of soup and the map. “You made him soup?”

“Yeah,” Florence replies, “I did. It’s cold out.”

Marlon sinks down into one of the empty chairs, and you can see Joel’s patience wearing thin. “I’m lookin’ for my brother.”

The old man scoffs, pulling his hat off. “Well, I ain’t seen him.”

“I haven’t told you what he looks like,” Joel retorts, matching his tone.

“He look anything like you?”

“A bit,” Joel answers, and you can’t stop yourself from stepping forward.

“Not really,” you say, and Marlon’s brows shoot up as you make yourself seen, your own gun dangling from your hand. “Darker hair, a bit shorter, more mustache than beard.”

Another scoff. “I ain’t seen him.”

“They’ve got a girl with them,” Florence says, lifting her chin toward the loft.

“Can I come down?” Ellie’s voice floats down, and Joel bristles.

“No,” he calls, his voice stern, and you both look up to see her lean over the railing.

“Ellie!” you call, trying to strengthen Joel’s command, but it doesn’t work. She comes bounding down the stairs, gun rattling in her hand.

“Ooh-wa,” Marlon grumbles, and both he and Florence start laughing.

“What did I just say?” Joel grits and you sigh, rubbing your hand over your forehead.

“Joel, come on,” Ellie retorts, almost rolling her eyes. “They’re like, a thousand.”

“Who’s this little psycho?” Marlon asks, gesturing to Ellie, looking between you and Joel. “Your daughter?”

“She’s—” you start, but Joel cuts you off.

“Never mind her,” he says, stepping forward and poking at the map on the table. “I need you to tell us where we are.”

“If you got a map, why you lost?”

“Must have missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest,” Ellie bites out, and you grab her shoulder, yanking her backward and beside you.

“Ho-ly,” Marlon laughs, and Florence chuckles. The whole scene is making your head hurt. It’s like whiplash.

Joel gives you a pointed look as the older couple laughs. Your jaw goes tight and you shake your head ever so slightly, gripping Ellie’s shoulder as he leans in again, pointing at the map. “We’re somewhere here. Exactly where? And your answer better be the same as your wife’s.”

Marlon stares at Joel for a long moment before his eyes cut to Florence. “You tell him the truth?”

“Yeah,” she says, still rocking back and forth.

“You tellin’ me the truth?”

“Yeah.”

Another glare from the old man before he leans forward in the chair and pokes at the map. Exactly the same spot Florence had pointed out. Middle of fucking nowhere. You can feel Ellie’s eyes on your face, but you can’t bring yourself to look in her direction.

With a sigh, Joel tucks his gun away. “Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess.” He sinks down onto the couch, putting his head in his palm.

“Hide?” Marlon laughs. “Came here before you were born, sonny. Get the hell away from everybody.”

“I didn’t want to,” Florence interjects, and despite it all, you laugh. 

Marlon waves her off. “Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you about your brother, but if you’ve come this far, then you know what’s out there. You’ve seen Cody?”

At the mention, you step away from Ellie, to the other side of the couch, hovering near Joel’s shoulder, reaching out and curling your fingers in his coat. Ellie sinks onto the corner of the couch and answers for you. “Yeah, got close enough. It’s crawling with Infected.”

“Yeah, Laramie and Wind River Reservation,” Marlon tells you, his eyes flitting from Ellie to Joel to you and back again. “Anywhere people used to be, you can’t go there no more.”

You can feel Joel tensing under your hand like a drawn bowstring. “So you haven’t heard the name Tommy? Tommy Miller?”

“Nope.”

“What about the Fireflies?” you ask, finding your voice.

“We get those in the summer,” Florence answers innocently.

“Not the bugs,” Ellie bites out, “the people.”

“There are firefly people?” the old woman asks and the pair starts laughing again.

Ellie has more to say, but you call her name, your voice as stern as Joel’s had been, and this time she listens, shrinking down onto the couch.

“You got any advice on the best way West?” Joel asks, and you can feel his shoulders going tighter and tighter.

“Yeah,” Marlon answers, “go East. But you never go past the river here.” He points at the map, not far from where he’d pointed before. “Ever.”

“What’s past the river?” you ask, stepping around and sitting on the arm of the couch, your hand still squeezing Joel’s shoulder.

“Death,” Florence says, and an icy chill shoots through you. “We never see who’s out there, but we see the bodies they leave behind. Some Infected, some not. If your brother’s West of the river, he’s gone.”

Joel deflates. You feel it beneath your hand, the slump to his shoulder, the defeat that starts to roil through him. You know him too well not to see it for what it is. He’s giving up.

And Ellie is staring at you. You let yourself meet her gaze, and see your own fear mirrored in her eyes. But despite it all, what comes out of your mouth is, “You aren’t gonna scare us.”

“Scared him,” Florence says, chin lifted toward Joel.

Marlon laughs again and Joel snatches the map up off the table, moving out from under your grip and getting to his feet. “We need to leave.” You move to follow, grabbing Ellie by the shoulder again. You grab your bags from where you stashed them near the stairs. Joel swings the rifle over his shoulder and as he steps past you to get to the door, you hear the wheeze in his breath. Without another word, he steps out of the door, Ellie following.

You turn back to the older couple. “Thank you for the…hospitality.”

Marlon gives you a strange look. “Don’t get yourself killed out there, girl.”

You give a curt nod before turning on your heel, following Joel and Ellie. Ellie is nearly running to keep up with him, a dead rabbit hanging from her grip — where the hell did she get a dead rabbit?

“They don’t know anything,” she’s saying, like she’s trying to reason with him. “Never heard of the Fireflies.”

They’re at the fence by the time you catch up, your boots nearly slipping through the snow. Joel’s stock-still, one hand reached out, gripping the wooden fence for support.

“Joel, are you okay?” Ellie calls, and you hear him grumble at her to shut up. “Holy shit, are you dying?” She whirls, panic in her eyes as she stares at you. “Liv, is he dying? This is the second time.”

Joel shakes his head, the movement almost frantic, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m okay,” he wheezes, and you step past Ellie, moving beside him. “Okay, okay, I’m fine.”

“Joel,” you call, your voice soft, reaching for his free hand, threading your fingers through his. “I’m right here.”

“No, no, but are you okay?” Ellie continues, her voice climbing. “Because just a reminder, that if you’re dead, we’re fucked.”

“Ellie, stop it,” you snap, squeezing Joel’s fingers as your head whips in her direction. The anger that spikes through you is there and gone in a flash, but you see it flicker across her face all the same.

“I’m fine,” Joel repeats, lifting your joined hands to his chest, rubbing your knuckles against his sternum. “Just the…cold air, all of a sudden.” He’s still panting, his breaths still wheezing, and he bends slightly, still gripping the fence for support.

Ellie’s still staring at you. The guilt is immediate as she ducks under the fence, putting distance between the pair of you. “Alright, uh, so let’s go and find Tommy and the Fireflies.”

Joel straightens, taking a deep, even breath, and you relax slightly, turning your attention to him fully. His lips form the words I’m okay and you wish to God you could believe him, but his eyes tell a different story. One you don’t have time to hash out here and now.

“It’s gonna be easy,” Ellie is still carrying on, nearly crawling up the hill that leads away from the cabin. “All we have to do is cross the River of Death.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

[anxiety-elemental-kay]

And Take Away Its Pain: A Comparison of Masculinity, Trauma, and Queerness in Warcraft and Warframe

First, I want to shout out my friend Silriven at BluSky. (If any of you are mean to her I will Find You.) This thread she wrote recently reflecting on if/how she still likes Anduin as a character was what got me started writing this essay. She talks about the fandom response to Anduin, and the ways both the fandom and writers contradict themselves in discussing the character. The reason I wrote this essay is because I can think of another character and video game that work as a counterpoint to the way Anduin is portrayed.

Even before this specific thread, I made made a thread on BluSky comparing Warcraft and Warframe much earlier because both these games had major update reveals at around the same time. Not only that, but their content served as an interesting contrast between the different games' stories, and my own reactions to each.

The War Within[1] trailer and related announcements were revealed at Blizzcon 2023, around the same time as Digital Extremes, the developers of Warframe, held Tennocon 2023, which included a thirty minute demo of their next major story update, Whispers in the Walls.

For those unfamiliar with either/or World of Warcraft and Warframe, I’ll give a quick summary of the trailers.

In TWW trailer trailer we see Anduin Wrynn sitting by himself in a desert. Anduin is a character the players have known for a long time, and last time we saw him he chose to disappear in response to a trauma he suffered in that expansion’s story. Here his face is dirty, he’s grown out a beard, and his hair is cut short. He has a vision of something that looks like a star calling his name. A second character appears, an orc named Thrall. The two talk; Thrall is calm while Anduin is angry and confrontational. They discuss the visions they’ve been having, how someone at “the heart of the world” is calling out to them. (Anybody who’s kept up with Warcaft's story even a little bit will know this voice is the Titan Azeroth, who lives inside the planet Azeroth.) When Thrall touches Anduin’s shoulder, Anduin has a brief flashback to when the ghost of his father touched his shoulder. Anduin draws his sword and declares “I’m not that person anymore! I have no Light! Not after what I’ve seen, not after what I’ve done!” Thrall replies “You are not your past, Anduin” and expresses his trust in Anduin, who struggles to not cry, and lowers his sword. Both of them experience a much stronger vision of the star calling for them, then Anduin accepts Thrall’s hand, and Anduin pledges to stand with him. They both express confusion at who could be calling out to them. (It’s Azeroth you dinguses!!!) The trailer ends with a cool shot of a giant sword sticking out of the desert, before switching to The War Within expansion logo.

Now, the Whispers In The Walls showcase was a full demo including gameplay, but to keep the comparison as fair as possible, I only talk about the opening three minutes [2]. You can see the whole showcase here.

In the Whispers preview, we open with a cutscene. We start with some spooky eldritch speech, then we shift to someone the player will have heard of before, but never seen, Albrecht Entrati. Albrecht checks a beeping pager, and then an old computer, both out of place against the stylized sci-fi future setting of Warframe. He is followed by his feline companion. He gives his cat some pats, then he sits in a sci-fi casket, where his kitty also curls up. A second character, who we’ll learn later is named Loid, approaches Albrecht with his head bowed and eyes on the floor. Albrecht reaches up to Loid to touch his cheek, and wipes away a tear with his thumb. (Remember this moment, it's important for a point I'll make near the end of this essay.) Albrecht's dialogue is subtitled as (Quiet whispering). Then Albrecht lays down, and the casket closes. Loid raises a hammer as the casket makes loud sounds and lights flash, before he finally brings the hammer down to smash the casket. The screen cuts to black, then the gameplay starts.

Comparing these two teasers at the time, I thought about how Whispers was much more effective at building a story hook by creating mystery. Even if I limit myself to that opening cinematic, we have one character, Albrecht, who we’ve heard a great deal about and is important to the story, but we’ve yet to meet him in-person. The contrast of his 90’s tech and fashion against the more fantastical technology common to Warframe’s universe is stark and creates interesting questions. We’re introduced to this relationship Albrecht has with Loid. I don’t know who these people are or what their circumstances are, but I see genuine love and conflict. I’m already invested in learning more and seeing what happens to them. It’s a great hook! I actually rewatched that opening three minutes a few times while writing this because I have brainworms!

The TWW trailer is about creating a hook based on seeing where beloved characters are now, seeing what’s become of them when the player wasn’t looking. Azeroth the Titan is speaking to the main cast, which is clear to the audience familiar with the game but not the characters for unclear reasons. Anduin is still suffering, unable or unwilling to heal from his trauma. Thrall wants to him to come out of hiding. Anduin agrees to. That’s it. What’s the story hook here? Anduin seems to have gone nowhere in the years since he was last seen, and I have no sense of where his story (or Thrall’s, or Azeroth’s) might be going. I don't even know why Anduin changes his mind and chooses to help Thrall. What, just because there's another big threat to the world? The last one wasn't enough to bring you out of hiding? It’s just stuff happening, a general sense of vague Peril. I can't even get that excited about the shot of Sargeras' sword! Blizz should've thought to address that earlier, like, when the planet got stabbed! That was cool and exciting! Our planet got stabbed by Warcraft Satan! Then it's ignored for years until now, after people kept asking what was going to happen to it. The trailer tries to build a mystery about where the visions are coming from, but it's the Titan Azeroth, the players figured it out right away, there's no mystery. I don't have any reason to feel like the writers care about the story, setting, or characters. I’m left feeling nothing for any of it but a vague sense of disappointment.

Even more, the TWW trailer feels like it’s deliberately avoiding adding any details. Anduin talks about how he’s lost his Light, how he’s “not that person anymore” which is not a bad way to take his arc, but I can’t connect it to when Anduin was enslaved by the Jailer in Shadowlands. I know where his trauma comes from, but the trailer makes no effort to explain or expand on how those specific events affected him. I’m not even going to explain what any of that means to people unfamiliar with Warcraft because it doesn’t matter! In both dialogue and in visuals, the trailer gives little texture or meaning to what Anduin is feeling. In the Whispers trailer, I know Loid is sad, not just because Albrecht is leaving, but that he has to have a role in that departure. I don't know what happened to Albrecht at this point, but the emotional hook is there along with the questions about the story. I care because I believe these two characters are in love. Why should I care that Anduin feels he's lost his Light? I have no sense of what this loss means or feels like. I have no sense of what he's struggling with, or what he might face in the future.

Since those trailers were released, Warframe had its promised Whispers update, and I’ve played the full quest and leveled up the linked faction, which contained more story. While I know I’m being unfair comparing a trailer to a full release, I will continue to do so anyway because 1) I’m a bitter old faggot, and 2) the full story of Whispers makes the comparison between Loid/Whispers as a whole and Anduin/TWW even more interesting/saddening.

This is your warning that I’ll be spoiling the quest Whispers In The Walls. Eventually. I've got some foundation I want to lay first.

I found a tweet thread by Christie Golden, one of Warcraft’s major writers. She links a TIME article about a woman struggling to raise her son to be gentle and kind in a world that encourages anger and violence in men. Golden lists Anduin (among others) as an example of nontoxic masculinity in fictional media. In her replies she goes on to expand on her thoughts.

Here’s the tweet by Golden that stuck out to me: “Too often men and boys who gravitate to the gentler side are automatically perceived as being gay, whether they are or not. ALL men/boys should be able to display these qualities, just like all girls/women can be tough and fearless and athletic if that's who they are.”

What’s wrong with being perceived as gay, Golden?

To be fair, there is a point here about assuming someone’s sexuality based on their personality or behavior. That is nonsense, and assigning traits to someone based on an observer’s opinion isn’t good. I even agree that not all straight characters should be one thing and all gay characters should be another! The problem with Golden’s statement is the implicit bias, being “automatically perceived as being gay” is framed as something bad. Why shouldn’t straight men and boys look up to a gay character? Can they not see themselves in a queer character? Why?

This is another reason why the comparison between TWW and Whispers is so interesting, because Whispers is gay. Sure, there are people who will argue Loid and Albrecht weren’t in love, because no one explicitly says they were together, but if you’re paying attention that’s unneeded. Loid refers to Albrecht as “my Albrecht”, and later, in a diary entry, we hear Albrecht refer to Loid as “my Loid”. There's a moment in the quest where we watch a recording of Albrecht, and he says, “I need Loid to understand why I had to leave. Without him. Why I forced him to destroy the device after I had gone. And why I could never say the words he so needed to hear.”

If you listen to the codex entry “Albrecht’s Notes: The Aftermath” about what he went through after coming back injured from the Void, you get even more. Albrecht describes Loid as “crooning motherly” and how “Loid nursed me then” back to full health. His descriptions, and the voice acting, are entirely earnest. There is no sarcasm or veiled disdain as he describes Loid in these feminine terms. The affection Albrecht both received, and gave, was genuine.

“The agony bit deep, but it was clean. Blameless love bled up from me.

I had decided to live.”

Yes, yes, this section is partly for me to be snappy at the people in the Warframe community who insist Loid and Albrecht aren’t a couple. What I want to demonstrate here is mechanically how Warframe tells its audience these characters are in love without needing to spell it out. Why it’s reasonable (and valid) to interpret characters as queer even if they don’t list their labels on their bios, so to speak.

To bring this back to the character of Anduin Wrynn: while he’s never been officially portrayed as queer, his story, at least in its earliest years, very much was.

Though we don't see much of Anduin in-game early in Warcraft's life, his first story plays out in the supplementary comics and novels. There’s a conflict between who Anduin feels he is and who he is expected to be. He’s expected to become a warrior like his father, Varian, but Anduin finds wielding weapons difficult. He's unable to reach Varian's standards for who he should be. Instead, Anduin chooses to become a healer, in Warcraft terms he chooses the priest class, and focuses on spellcasting and support. At one point, as Anduin is about to leave home to go and train in healing magic, Varian reaches out and nearly breaks his son's arm in his attempt to force him to stay. Varian is horrified at what he's done, and Anduin leaves.

Anduin's story is literally about rejecting the traditional masculinity his father represents to pursue his own, alternative path. We see how the life Varian's lived, a warrior's life full of violence, has poisoned his relationship with his son, how his toxic masculinity was a destructive force. Varian’s story in parallel is learning to accept Anduin’s choice, and learning to understand that his son is still powerful and capable, even if he’s not “strong” in the way Varian himself is. In addition, Anduin is one of the few characters who objects to the war(craft) between the two player factions and wants to find peace between them. Anduin’s story was, in theme if not in content, very much a queer narrative! It's about challenging tradition and finding a path that's more true to who he is and what he believes in.

This was why I connected with the character of Anduin initially. I started playing Warcraft in late Wrath of the Lich King, after ICC came out. When I first met Anduin he had a default human child model, and he said and did basically nothing. Then Cataclysm was released, he got his own teenager model, and a whole questline to himself. Suddenly he was someone with agency, wants, and personality! And then Mists of Pandaria came out and Anduin got to be a major focus of an entire expansion!

Anduin was absent from the next expansion, but the one after, Legion, Anduin returned with an adult model, and his father dies during the story's prologue. While he didn’t get the same focus he did in Mists, in Legion Anduin still had a whole storyline about becoming king, accepting his new role, and making peace with his father's death. It's smaller than his role in Mists, but it's a storyline I enjoyed!

I’ve literally watched this character grow up in real time. It’s a powerful experience!

(Side note: there’s a lot that can be said about Anduin as a monarch, what kind of state head he is, how he treats his people, and is an aspect that largely goes unacknowledged in the canon story. I'll shout out Silriven again, this is a topic she's gone a good job of discussing before. I want to acknowledge this part of his character, but I consider it beyond the scope of this specific essay. I do think making him king, making him someone who extracts taxes and sends people to die in war, does have a major impact on his character, his masculinity, and how he processes trauma. However, talking about monarchy, even a fictional one, is its own topic and needs its own space to explore. It's something to keep in mind whenever discussing any major character in Warcraft who is also a major political leader.)

Through all this I would say I saw Anduin as queer. At no point does he express serious romantic interest in anyone, nor does he appear to be under any pressure to find a partner through either societal or political norms. The themes of his stories made me think he was gay, especially as the only other character he grows close to is another boy. Anduin was a comfort character for me.

This began to change in the expansion after Legion, Battle for Azeroth.

Anduin begins to wear a set of plate armor, looking more like his warrior father, and the role he once rejected, than the priest he chose to be. He leads his armies in a war that he used to be wholly against, a contradiction he never fully confronts. When he punches Wrathion, a childhood friend who reappeared in the last expansion patch, players responded with praise in real life. “Manduin” punched Wrathion, who Anduin claimed was responsible for his father’s death. Which he wasn’t, and can only be seen as responsible through a Five Degrees of Kevin Bacon type web. I'm not sure why Anduin says this, unless the writers wanted to either smear Wrathion or erase the history of friendship the two had previously. Or, maybe they didn't want to bring up any legitimate reasons Anduin might be angry at Wrathion, like abandoning him. If I had a nickel every time one person abandoned another to go on an ill-fated time travel adventure, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't much but it's weird it happened twice.

(Here's a tangent: Imagine if Albrecht ended up in alternate Draenor and/or Wrathion ended up in 1999. Those stories would've gone VERY differently.)

Since I’ve brought him up, it’s time to talk about Anduin and Wrathion.

This topic is. Divisive. In the Warcraft fandom.

Wranduin, the ship name, is something that appeared in fandom mid Mists when the two characters first met. Anduin was curious about who this Wrathion person was and set out to investigate. Long story short, their families had a long history of conflict, and Anduin had every reason to be suspicious and mistrustful of Wrathion. Was openly mistrustful of Wrathion. They continue to hang out together through the rest of the expansion.

This all leads up to a particular moment in the novel War Crimes, taking place after the main events of Mists of Pandaria. Anduin and Wrathion continue to spend time with each other in that book, playing games and discussing politics. When Anduin expresses how tired he is, Wrathion declares “I shall, if asked politely, take you on my back and ferry you to fascinating places, where we will have adventures that will age your father ten years in one night.”

I've never read any of the books myself, but I’ve seen this passage passed around online and it stands out to me. It feels genuine, two teenagers who are close friends but also bad at vulnerability and Feelings, making a connection and finding comfort in each other. I’m not even asking anyone to see a romantic angle to this, just to understand the emotions of the moment. It feels specific to them.

I was in the Warcraft fandom during Mists, I thought their relationship was interesting, and it could make for an interesting romance. Despite ideological differences, they were very much kindred spirits. People born into power who’ve also suffered immense loss of agency. Both were forced to grow up quickly, had their lives endangered at young ages, and both want to protect the world they live in, even if that means different things to both of them. That tension, the clash between their ideals and their personalities, the potential for connection and division both, was what made their relationship so interesting.

Then Wrathion disappeared for several expansions, came back in BofA, and the first thing that happens is Anduin punches him in the face. We never see them in a scene together after this moment ends.

It's worth noting that while Wrathion isn't human (he's a dragon in disguise) his humanoid form makes him one of the very few non-white characters in the main cast. They reintroduce him by having a white man, who was once a friend, punch him in the face. This is an action Anduin has never apologized to Wrathion for.

There’s another Warframe character I want to talk about briefly: Ticker. She’s a trans woman.

She's been in the game much longer than Loid and Albrecht, but like them, her identity is never explicitly stated, but at the same time it's unambiguous. She has a deeper, more masculine voice, has a masculine appearance (Old Mate rank spoilers, but if you know you know) while her body language is very feminine and she uses exclusively feminine pronouns and terms for herself. One her voice lines when you speak with her is “A person gets told a lot of things over the course of a life. Who they are. Who they should be. Amateurs, lecturing a professional.”

She is a trans woman, she has some of the best lines in the game, and I love her.

My greatest disappointment with Ticker is that she isn’t involved in the greater storyline associated with her zone. We do meet other good characters (Eudico in particular is a lady character I adore) but Ticker’s exclusion sticks out to me. Sure, one could point to Smokefinger as also being largely absent, but Ticker’s role in the story is to help pay off people’s debts so they don’t suffer more than they have to. This is something she has to do in secret (to her boss’s boss, not to the player natch) or risk facing harsh punishment herself. This could tie directly into the area’s larger story about a workers' union violently revolting against its hyper-capitalist overlords. Why isn’t she in Vox Solaris DE??? By the way, the player sides with the union.

(Side note: Blizzard is an American studio, while Digital Extremes is Canadian. I can feel a potential discussion of these two countries, labor unions, and these two games, but like the point about monarchy in Warcraft, that needs its own space. There's definitely things to talk about, but I'd need to do real research before I could begin to approach it.)

So looking at Ticker, then looking at Whispers, this update shows growth to me. Warframe is showing two men in love[3], both characters and their identities are treated with respect by the narrative and other characters. Yes, this isn’t the same as depicting a canonical trans woman, but I’m inclined to be patient and kind when I sense that creator(s) are earnest about portraying experiences that aren’t theirs. We all have internal biases we need to uproot, it’s a journey that will last our whole lives, and one that will inevitably end incomplete. We can all and always learn to improve our art, as well as our compassion and understanding of other people. For me, forgiveness for earlier depictions that were poor or problematic is easy when I believe the creator(s) are making a sincere effort. We all make mistakes, and we all grow. Hopefully DE will add another canonical trans person to their game who will have a bigger role.

I’m hammering this point home because I have never felt this level of sincere effort from Blizzard.

I know I’m comparing an middle-ish game studio to a massive AAA company, and I do not care. Whether it’s because of the writers’ cowardice or a producer’s mandate, Warcraft takes only small steps to be inclusive, while Warframe is genuinely trying. (DE also updated skin shaders specifically so darker tones would look nicer in their new lighting system!) It's things like this that make Golden's talk about Anduin being an example of nontoxic masculinity ring hollow. Only one of these games seems willing to engage with marginalized stories, with people who live outside of the strict roles we're assigned. The concept of "nontoxic masculinity" cannot exist if one is unwilling to engage with queerness. Allowing men to embrace more gentle behaviors also means not shaming anyone for being gay. Allowing men to do and be things that aren't the pinnacle of traditional masculinity means understanding and embracing that men can and will engage in more feminine behaviors or roles, and this doesn't diminish their gender identity. These concepts are linked.

(I know this is a very binary way of framing these concepts, but let me tell you, Blizz is NOT ready for that discussion.)

Warcraft has added gay characters or made some existing characters gay, but never anybody in the main cast, nothing that would get a major spotlight. Anduin could’ve been an easy solve for this, whether he started a relationship with Wrathion or someone else, it doesn’t matter! Having a major character in a game as large as World of Warcraft would've meant so much. Instead they hide their queer characters in secondary roles, in supplementary media, and made them into easter eggs in the game. Never major characters, never the focus of the story. Nothing they would, for example, show off at a major convention in 2023.

Moving away from talking about queerness for a moment, something that struck me watching the Whispers demo again is that DE isn't afraid to make their new character flawed. I don't want to say unlikable necessarily, because I did like Loid right away, but he's also rude to the established character traveling with us ("Resume your duties, construct!) and then dismissive of the player. He's supposed to wait for an "operator" to arrive at the labs, and thinks it's obviously not the player. By the end of the quest (which I'll talk about in a moment because yes it's relevant) Loid comes to accept that the player is the one he's meant to work with. When you level up the related faction in the full release, Loid eventually tells the player that his role was to care for Albrecht, and it would be his honor to extend that same service to the player. This arc is sweet and feels earned because Loid started so abrasive, the writers weren't afraid to make him abrasive, and even by the end I wouldn't say he's flawless. In fact, in the next update, Dante Unbound, DE has hinted that Loid will have to confront the established character he was rude to in Whispers. Loid feels like a person who's going through shit, in the way that people go through shit. Not with grace, but trying his best anyway.

I bring this up because one of the long standing issues with Anduin as a character, which has gotten worse as time goes on, is the unwillingness to give Anduin flaws. I wonder if this connects back to the point about the lack of specificity about his feelings or experiences in TWW trailer, why Thrall's simple "You are not your past" feels so strange, and why the trailer seems reluctant to acknowledge Anduin's anger as a problem. Anduin has, for a while, been positioned as a moral core for the game, the character who is primarily interested in peace for unselfish reasons. Part of the reason I enjoyed Anduin as a character in Mists was because, sometimes, he got to act like a shitty teenager. He'd be sarcastic or smarmy or do something objectively dumb, like run off to fight a major enemy of his nation on his own. This is especially true when interacting with Wrathion, which includes Anduin using the taunt "You're what, two years old?" To which Wrathion replies "Two in DRAGON years." It's very endearing! Look at these brats, they're believable teenage friends to me. Yes, Anduin is one of the few peace-seekers in the story, he tries so hard to be good and kind even to his enemies, but in moments like these he still feels like a person.

We could look at TWW and say Anduin is demonstrating anger issues, which would be interesting because, like in the example of almost breaking Anduin's arm, this was something Varian struggled with. Except it doesn't feel like the trailer recognizes this as a flaw. The moment goes by and is quickly forgotten. I can look at Loid in Whispers and I recognize where his bitterness comes from: he felt abandoned and so pushes others away. The one detail I did like in TWW trailer was the comparison between Thrall touching Anduin's shoulder, and Varian's ghost doing the same in the past. That moment felt like a trigger for Anduin, reminding him of that moment when he was so vulnerable, but also of his grief for his father. (Nevermind we had that story in Legion about Anduin coming to terms with his grief. Let's ignore that.) It's the most sincere moment of the trailer, but it doesn't follow through! As soon as the second vision dissipates, Anduin takes Thrall's hand and pledges to help. Why? Again, "because there's another big cosmic threat" isn't a good enough reason. What does he feel in this moment? Why did he change his mind now?

Nontoxic masculinity doesn't mean "flawless person". I would still say Loid is a good example of nontoxic masculinity, regardless of if or when he does engage in more toxic behaviors. I'd say as a character Loid is a better demonstration than Anduin of nontoxic masculinity because he's capable of self-reflection, realizing he did something bad, and correcting himself. One interpretation of events in the story of Whispers (because much of Warframe is open to interpretation) is that the local eldritch horror was feeding off of Loid's resentment towards Albrecht, and this was fueling its assault on the labs. Only in reminding Loid of Albrecht's feelings for him, specifically in a way Loid had been deliberately avoiding, can the player begin to take down the bad guy of the quest.

This is a great time to move to my last point about Whispers’ full story: the ending.

I know we can talk about ludonarrative dissonance about two games where the player regularly enacts mass murder and trying to square that with certain story themes. Listen. Hear me out.

In Warcraft, the solution to the final boss is always kill them. (Or arrest them in the case of Garrosh in Mists. In truth this was only a stay of execution). Part of this is the limit of always putting an expansion’s conclusion in a raid. There always needs to be a big fight in a specific kind of setting with specific player expectations. I wish Blizz played with this more; maybe we can only seal away the bad thing? Or maybe the goal is to hold something off while an NPC does a magical ritual that saves the day by some other method? I’m sure there are possible, creative solutions other than “hit bad guy (or his toes if he’s big) until bad guy falls over”.

How does the player save the day in Whispers in the Walls? I’m going to cover this in detail because it’s one of my favorite moments in the whole game.

You spend much of the quest fighting off The Murmur, constructs summoned by the local eldritch horror, called the Indifference (among many other names[4]) which is trying to break into the labs the quest takes place in. The final encounter, the story's climax, has the Indifference possesses a Vessel, one of many unfinished biomechanical giants Albrecht created and left scattered around his lab. The evil Vessel moves in to attack the player, who then possesses a Vessel themself.

The player’s Vessel holds up a hand, and we see a button prompt.

I'm stealing a point from another Tumblr user because it's great. Go read their post and the replies if you're curious about this particular moment!

This button prompt isn’t unusual. There aren’t many quick time events in Warframe, they're not a part of regular run and gun gameplay, but they do appear. If you’re like me, you’ve gone into the accessibility options and toggled button mashing off because wrists hurt. This prompt isn’t unusual to see for me.

But if you didn't use that accessibility toggle, you'll still get this specific prompt. It will be unusual that you're being asked to hold to interact with the scene, rather than the usual smash a button to make thing happen.

So you hold the button, the player’s Vessel reaches out, and when I first played I got excited because I think I’m powering up a big blast to destroy the enemy Vessel!

Then this happens:

I encourage everyone who can to watch the video for the full effect, but I’ll still describe it here:

The background music is ominous, and as you hold the button there's a heartbeat sound. The player's Vessel slowly reaches toward the enemy Vessel. When then the prompt button disappears, the scene goes quiet. The player Vessel gently holds the enemy Vessel's face, mirroring how Albrecht did to Loid at the beginning of the quest. As the music changes to a calming vocal track, we see the enemy Vessel's face change, drop from aggressive to lonely longing. The camera backs away as the two Vessels slow to a stop, posed to echo that "memory of love". The camera switches to Loid, who holds a hand to his own cheek, then looks back at the Vessels. He understands the connection too.

This kind of thing isn’t unheard of for Warframe either! I'll keep additional spoilers to a minimum, but a previous main story quest, The Sacrifice, has similar themes. In fact, my favorite moment from that quest involves a monologue by a major villain about how he is literally unable to comprehend the idea of empathy or compassion. He doesn’t understand why the player character, in a moment of vulnerability and understanding, is able to do what he couldn’t, with all of his violence and brutality.

“And it was not their force of will - not their Void devilry - not their alien darkness. It was something else. It was that somehow, from within the derelict-horror, they had learned a way to see inside an ugly, broken thing —

— and take away its pain.” [5]

In a story where the primary antagonist is a mysterious entity called “The Indifference” we don’t defeat it with force. With hate. What’s the opposite of Indifference?

It’s old man yaoi love. We defeat Indifference with love.

I don’t feel like I was cheated out of a cool moment. I suspect some people did. It’s not like Whispers didn’t have cool moments! I’m not even going to argue that this moment was uncool, just that it brought up different and unexpected emotions in me! It was an interesting and affecting twist on how we expect these encounters to go. It’s moments like these that tell me that Warframe's writers, for all their flaws, are putting genuine thought and emotion into their game. They’re thinking about characters and themes, trying to follow them through even with the scattershot way that video game design demands writers work.

Writing this description reminds me of a moment in Shadowlands, the expansion that traumatized Anduin. It takes place in (surprise!) the Shadowlands, the afterlife of Warcraft’s universe. Thrall, the second character we see in the TWW trailer, meets his mother in Shadowlands. She died when he was a baby, and now that he meets her in these weird circumstances, they begin to create the bond they couldn’t have before. In particular I found this conversation they have touching. A mother who didn't get to know her son, and a son who never knew his mother, finally get to connect. “I knew who you were the moment I saw you,” Draka tells him, “Do you really think I would not recognize Durotan's eyes?"

“Come, I wish to know more of your life, all of it,” she says to him, sounding tired.

It’s such a sweet moment, and bonus points for focusing on Draka, a woman who was functionally fridged prior, who now gets to be a character with personality and (some) agency in Shadowlands. It’s such a perfect demonstration of everything that could’ve been interesting in Shadowlands, what was and is interesting in Warcraft’s story, and what’s so often set aside or overlooked. Can they continue to have a relationship when the current conflict is over? Questions like this are interesting, but Shadowlands doesn’t engage with them at all, and it's poorer for it.

In Warcraft, trauma is aesthetic. Pain is aesthetic. It doesn’t matter what caused Anduin’s suffering in TWW trailer, all that’s important is that we know he’s suffering. We know he's important because he’s a main character and he’s sad about something. But, like, not sad in a way that would make him cry. That part is critical because we all know boys don't cry, right? That bias feels implicit in much of Warcraft's emotional moments. How much more touching would Thrall and Draka's reunion be if Thrall was allowed to cry at finally getting to meet his mom?

Loid does cry, at the beginning of Whispers' quest and during the story of the faction associated with the update. His emotions, and thus his story, feel more genuine and engaging for allowing him that vulnerability.

Warframe wants to engage with specific traumas, how they can make us bitter towards others, perpetuate our own and others’ pain. The point of pain is to understand it, because in understanding, that pain can be taken away. Warcraft has no interest in taking away pain, and it has no interest in understanding it. It’s not about emotional connection, because that requires a vulnerability and a capacity to self-reflect that Warcraft has no interest or courage to engage with. Pain is aesthetic.

Whispers is setting up a longer story arc for Warframe. At the time Whispers was revealed, Warframe was celebrating its 10th anniversary, and the previous main story quest wrapped up the storyline the game told from its release. In this way, Whispers is again an interesting comparison to Warcraft’s The War Within. TWW is also meant to be the start of a new story arc that will last several expansions. I know which story I’m excited about, and which one I feel nothing for.

Loid was a character I met for the first time last year, he immediately felt like a person, and I was emotionally invested. As a player I so badly want Albrecht to finally say the words Loid needed to hear. Anduin Wrynn is someone I’ve known for years, but is now a cardboard cutout. I don't feel compelled to follow his story because... what could it be? Warcraft doesn't seem interested in any conclusion or goal for him. He just is.

I have a lot of complicated emotions about World of Warcraft, as a game and as an influential piece of media. I played the game for many years, and it was an important part of my life. In many ways I’d say it's still a part of me, even after I stopped playing the game itself. Part of writing this essay was following up on some thoughts I shared with friends on BluSky, but part of it feels like exorcising a demon, or bleeding out poison. Part of me grieves for Warcraft, what it meant to me and what I thought it could have been. In Warframe though, I've found a place of comfort and compassion. In between all the space ninja nonsense and vast quantities of horrific violence the player commits, Warframe offers growth, and a way to let go of what hurts us.

—

I'll take a moment and shout out an excellent video essay by Shaun on Youtube called Andrew Tate: How to be a Real Man. It's a great resource for a more general discussion of masculinity in the real world. The video is a criticism of Tate and his approach, why it appeals to some men, and further dissects what masculinity means, and what nontoxic masculinity means. (Is it an inbox full of pictures of Aragorn?) It's a good dissection of masculinity as a concept, and one I'd recommend if you're curious about the topic of toxic/nontoxic or negative/positive masculinity.

—

Yes not only do I have my paragraph long asides I've now also added footnotes. This isn't a peer reviewed journal, you're not my mom, I do what I want!

[1] One of Warframe’s major quests is also called “The War Within” which might be confusing to a reader who knows Warframe. Don’t worry about it, I’m talking exclusively about the upcoming Warcraft expansion here.

[2] For bonus points, if you haven't played Warframe, go to 20:55 on the demo video. You'll see a logo and release date for Whispers In The Walls, hear the live crowd cheer, and the creative director will start to speak... until she's interrupted by something in the game. What you see and hear next is almost exactly as it is in the final release, including the music, minus an extra line of exposition from Loid. This wasn't just a stunt for the convention. I fucking LOVE Warframe.

[3] To be honest this is part of a personal measurement I use to gauge how queer friendly a work is: if they have queer women do they also have queer men? A good example of why I use this is Mass Effect. That franchise always had queer women and an option for lesbian romance, but only in Mass Effect 3 did they add one (1) queer option for a masculine Shepherd. I am a (nonbinary) lesbian so on the one hand I don’t want to dismiss all queer women in media as “pandering” and queer men as “valid”. It’s more of a guideline to estimate how willing a piece of media/creator is to transgress heterosexual norms. Depicting men who love men is seen as more transgressive than two women in love by the gaming community at large. The reasons for this are complicated and they all suck.

[4] hey kiddo

[5] I wanted to avoid spoilers for other Warframe story quests, but The Sacrifice is, again, an interesting point of comparison for Anduin's story. The Sacrifice is, largely, about a character coming to terms with his grief over the death of his son. If you see the whole video I link there, you'll see the player presented with three options: Wrath (We use this memory. It fuels our wrath), Acceptance (We accept this memory and move beyond its reach), and Emptiness (We return this memory to the Void and find peace in our emptiness.) I just wish Anduin's grief over Varian was, at any point, treated with this level of nuance and care.

#kay writes things #warframe #warcraft #anduin wrynn #loid #i'm a little hesitant to tag this #since i could get some real negative attention based on what i've discussed #and the nastier parts of both fandoms #whatever i wrote thousands of words i'll share it #for me and my friends and i guess the rest of you can read it too