#$10/hour is NOT generous in this day/age FUCK OFF!!

[heyitslapis]

i hate job hunting!

#biting & screaming & thrashing #whyyyy are companies so stingy why is the cost of living so high why are jobs so toxic #''youre not joining a company; youre joining a FAMILY'' DIEDIEDIE REMOVE YOURSELF FROM MY SIGHT #$10/hour is NOT generous in this day/age FUCK OFF!! #i need a job that pays $500/hour & only requires me to work 8 hours per month #in a perfect world #emma vents #emma rambles

[crushedsweets]

I'm the sweetest girl in town; so why are you so mean? Nina 'the Killer' Hopkins in Creeped PT 1: K-12

PT. 2: PURPOSE — PT. 3 NEW MESSAGE

General disclaimer: This AU is an amalgamation of headcanons, fanon, canon, and the occasional rewrite. There is an overarching story that HEAVILY strays from their canon stories. TW for toxic relationships, grooming, eating disorders, and self-harm. ED content is restricted to the 'middle school' section. Nina is a very personal character to me, but with a LOT of changes. Please take care of yourself and only engage in content you can handle.

BACKGROUND

❥Nina Hopkins was born on February 13, 1998, in California. She was the older sister of 1 brother, Christopher Hopkins.

❥Nina grew up with workaholics. Her father was a carpenter and her mother was a hairdresser, running her very own salon. They'd work 12 hour shifts, coming home to little Nina fast asleep on the couch, waiting for her parents. Especially her dad.

❥Nina was a daddy's girl through and through, and his guilt for never being there was evident. So he chose to shower her in gifts when he could, tutus and little pink mary-janes. Something girly and flashy.

❥Nina's favorite gift was a cheap, princess-themed makeup palette. Little Rapunzel's and Tiana's littered about her glittery pink and purple eyeshadows, set alongside cherry-flavored lip balms. She'd use the tiny sponge brush to delicately put on bright eyeshadow before school every goddamn morning.

❥It became obsessive. She'd come home and reapply. Cry when her mom makes her wipe it off before bed. Kick and scream when they threatened to take it away from her. When her mother asked why, Nina cried that it made her pretty. She didn’t want to look in the mirror without it. 

❥Now, Nina wanted attention. From a young age, you could see it in her. The way she dressed, the messily applied makeup, the loud voice, fake cries. She didn't get it much from her parents, and it only worsened when she became a big sister.

❥She was about 7 when Christopher was born. Her mom may have taken maternity leave, but that still left no time for Nina. She learned how to make bottles, change diapers, and bathe newborns. No attention aside from Christopher’s tiny hands holding onto her pajamas.

❥This opened a new routine for Nina and her mom, though. Each night, her mom dozed off on the couch, rocking Christopher’s little crib. Nina curled up beside her, purple eyelids half shut, watching whatever show her mom had on. 

❥Nina’s mom’s favorite show was Forensics Files. A little odd to her husband, but it immediately hooked Nina’s attention. It wasn’t age-appropriate, sure, but her mom was far too exhausted to change it. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? If Nina could wear eyeshadow, she could watch her mama’s favorite show. 

❥Just like Nina’s cheap makeup set, her interest in true crime grew obsessive. She’d get in trouble at school, spending her time in the school’s library, typing away at the school’s computer. She didn’t get far with many of her searches considering the Wi-Fi restrictions, but teachers and students quickly caught on. Eventually, she got banned from the library.

❥But Nina couldn’t get those stories out of her head. Every little bit she had memorized, she scribbled away in her diary. Obsessively. She kept track of every single detail. Memorized the victims’ names, the dates, and even the times they were declared dead. Whatever information was available to the public, Nina wrote down.

❥When Nina was about 9, she got her very own laptop. A gift from her dad, and an apology for so many late nights at work. He had no idea what it would unlock for Nina. All of the forums and chat rooms and videos she’d have access to. He didn’t even know there was a fucking ‘true crime community’ online, how could he expect his little girl to get sucked into that?

GRADE SCHOOL

❥When Nina was 10, she became a bit of a recluse. Girls at school avoided her for a few years now. She spent day after day curled up by the playground all on her own, flipping through her diary and brushing everyone off in favor of it. At home, she’d retreat to her bedroom and scroll online forums. 

❥She began making friends online, choosing to lie about her age. She’d befriend adults interested in the same morbidity as her. They introduced her to new content. It began with anime, usually psychological horror. Eventually, it evolved into dark manga, then gorey horror movies. Nina didn’t think much when they introduced her to liveleak. 

❥Nina left her diary behind one day, a fatal mistake that she was always so careful about. A girl from her class, Claudia, picked it up. Nina didn’t see that diary for a week. She spent days sobbing over it, crying to the people she met online and refusing to leave her room in fear of it being found.

❥She was called into her elementary school’s office the following Monday. Little Nina, dressed in hot pink twinkle-toe converse and glittery lip-balm, sat uncomfortably in the stiff office chair. Her father sat besides her, a look of disappointment on his overworked face. Her diary was on the desk.

❥Nina screamed. She screamed and kicked the chair as she snatched the diary. Without a second thought, she snapped the tension in that room, resulting in her father having to hold her down. She panicked violently, and when she eventually settled down into a whimpering sobbing mess, they scolded her. 

❥They began putting Nina into therapy. Weekly sessions at first, trying to dissect what was wrong with her. It made her feel worse. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with her. She wore ‘weird’ like a badge, something that all her online communities praised her for. Why was everyone acting so awful? It didn’t matter that much, though. Her parents still couldn’t carve time out of their work days for her. Weekly appointments turned monthly, turned every three months, turned never.

❥The girl who found her diary didn’t help. She read through it long before she turned it in to the teachers, snapping photos on her older sister's phone. Claudia began to keep track of Nina, similar to Nina’s habits. When the two turned 11 and entered 6th grade, Nina began experiencing relentless bullying and harassment. 

❥It started with name-calling. Deeming Nina a freak show, calling her a future serial killer, or pretending to squeal and run off when Nina walked by. It snowballed into jabs at her appearance, laughing at her messily applied blush and colorful clothes. Saying she was the ugliest girl in their grade, making comments on her body and how all the boys found her gross. She very frequently fell for boys saying they had a crush on her, only to laugh at her the second she believed it. Her self-esteem was already in shambles, but the relentless harassment only worsened it.

MIDDLE SCHOOL

❥Nina found solace online. Her friends were older, more mature. They understood her. Sure, some of them made her a bit uncomfortable, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. When she turned 12, she confessed her age to them. It broke her heart when a few blocked her, but not everyone did. She clung to those who stayed. Curiously, the adults interested in staying friends with little Nina were the same ones introducing her to new disgusting content. They’d ask to video call her and stream their favorite movies. Nina didn’t realize they were snuff films at first.

❥The harassment at school didn’t stop, of course. Nina was too young to start dieting, too young to be buying expensive makeup, too young to be worrying about her appearance. Regardless, she was convinced it would solve her problems. Alongside the fixation on horror, Nina stressed about her looks. She’d sob in front of mirrors, calling her adult friends and begging them for advice. They’d ask for photos. You know, to help her. She shattered every mirror in her room, weeping over her bloody hands and sending shards along her body. Nina's new diary obsessively kept track of new numbers.

❥Nina spent every night grabbing at her face and body, desperately morphing it to look the way she wanted. She didn’t even stop to think about Christopher in the other room, listening to her wretch into the toilet after every meal. Nina was so unbelievably lost in her own world, that nobody good ever came to mind.

❥She thought about Claudia a lot. So thin, tall, and confident. Claudia had a lot of friends, too. Nina was well aware, considering how often Claudia geared their attacks at Nina. She watched Claudia daily. In 8th grade, she noticed Claudia began wearing crop tops. Nina did too. She’d tie up her shirts and untie them around her parents. Claudia wore her hair in a high ponytail every damn day, so Nina started doing it too. Nina began applying mascara and highlight the same way Claudia did. Both girls were arguably too young for makeup, but there they were, egging each other on to apply more and more. Claudia’s wardrobe was pretty simple, nothing too flashy. So Nina opted out of her rhinestones and bright pink sneakers, instead reaching for simple Converse and plain jeans. 

❥By this point, a good number of them had phones. Claudia had long blocked Nina on Instagram, but Nina just made another account. A few, actually. One was an empty account with a fake profile picture and name, only used to follow Claudia without being blocked. A few more were made, used to follow Claudia and bombard her comments and messages with hateful content. Jabs at her appearance, her body, her clothes. Anything Nina could use as ammunition, she shot down Claudia’s self-esteem as harshly as her own. Nina would tell her adult friends online about it, bringing them to Claudia’s pages to attack her. It was cruel, and Nina knew that.

❥But it just felt so good when Claudia began to change. Before the end of 8th grade, she swapped to hoodies and pajama pants. No longer wore her hair up, instead used it to hide her face the best she could. She spoke quieter and didn't laugh so loud anymore. Nina felt like she won, and the freaks online cheered her on. Finally, Nina was able to drop her fixation on Claudia. 

HIGH SCHOOL

❥There was an odd shift in high school. Nina had completely turned her appearance around. She obsessively posted selfies and was quite careful about her online interests. Nobody could know. She wouldn’t even share the fact that she watched anime, far too fearful of the backlash. 

❥She had caught the eye of a senior at her school. His friend group had practically circled Nina, quickly offering her rides home and inviting her out. She bathed in the attention.

❥Christopher watched his big sister sneak out every other night. He’d ask softly where she was going. Gently, she’d smooth down his hair, press a kiss to his forehead, and ask him not to tell. He listened. Nina didn’t realize how much Christopher knew, and how much he kept to himself. How much of her grief he carried with him, worrying for his big sister.

❥14 year old Nina found herself at quite a few parties. Sometimes they’d be cities away, and she’d be seated on a couch at a random college party, shakily sipping away at a drink that made her nose scrunch. Eventually, the boy that brought her to these parties asked her to be his girlfriend. Nina couldn’t believe it.

❥He was the first boy of many to break her heart. It was a short month with him, till she went to the next guy. Then the next, and the next. Nina started drinking quite a bit, occasionally smoking weed and embarrassing herself on several occasions. She said it made it easier to socialize, but she really just thought it made her look cooler.

❥It grew difficult to balance both social lives. Her adult friends online continued to demand her attention at all times. Not much changed from when she was in middle school, including the way her anxiety would skyrocket when they got upset with her. She always folded to everyone in her life. She just wanted them to stay, to praise her, to tell her how kind and beautiful and sweet and funny she was. But it just felt so much better when someone in real life gave her that.

❥Yet another boy broke Nina’s heart. She thought he was the one, she really did. She spent months with him, from the end of her sophomore year to the start of her junior year. He bathed her in everything she asked for at first. She even got comfortable sharing some of her interests with him. He thought a girl liking anime was badass, but when she began to ramble about cold cases, he started to withdraw. Shortly after he broke up with her, old rumors began to resurface. Photos of an old diary slipped back into her school, shedding light on Nina’s elementary school habits. Nothing seemed to change, huh? Still talking about the same shit she was tormented for years back, but this time, they were attached to screenshots and voice memos that Nina sent to her boyfriend that year.

❥Nina knew who leaked them. Claudia, that stupid fucking bitch. Nina was never confrontational. Nobody ever taught her how to be. But this was a new low for her, dragging her right back to her middle school horrors. It’s like all of her misery, all of her insecurities, all of her rage and frustration and low self esteem accumulated into a string of stupid decisions. 

❥Nina followed Claudia home that following Monday. It was long after school, with Nina patiently waiting for Claudia to finish her group project. Neither of them exactly expected this, but when Nina snatched Claudia’s hair and began bashing her head into the ground, there was a deep sense of relief.

❥Regret followed. It didn’t feel so good watching Claudia sob as she curled up on the floor, clutching her face and begging Nina to stop. A pathetically small puddle of blood pooled beneath Claudia, and the sight made Nina’s stomach churn. She threw up. 

❥But Claudia was fine. Only her nose was broken and her face was bruised. Nina was expelled, now being shoved into an alternate school to complete high school. It was tearing Nina up inside to be so alone again.

❥What else was she supposed to do?

PT. 2: PURPOSE

#nina the killer #sweetart #ntk #nina hopkins #nina the killer headcanons #creepypasta #creepypasta art #creeped #nina the killer creepypasta #crp #crp fandom #creepypasta fandom #crp au #creepypasta au #creepypasta headcanon

[atticrissfinch]

Now I See Daylight (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

Part 4 of Gimme What I Want

pairing: dom/brat tamer!joel miller x fem!reader  summary: when you can’t stop bugging joel at work, he takes matters into his own hands. But he certainly makes it up to you after. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no!outbreak, age gap (Joel is 56, reader is 25), angry/mean!joel, also really fluffy joel and fluff in general (who even am i?), attempted sexting, spanking with a paddle, not-fun punishments, collaring, brats be bratting, dirty talk, daddy!kink, praise!kink, breeding!kink (no pregnancy in this series though i promise), unprotected piv, creampies, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, use of the term “making love” (i’m so sorry), alcohol consumption, pet names (darlin’, babygirl, baby, princess, etc). reader is shorter than joel, has hair long enough to grab.  word count: ~7.4k | ao3 a/n: back at it again with something a little different. this part is far less…fucking feral, ig. But joel is still gonna be joel, so it's still nasty. this is a bit of a roller coaster, friends, but i hope you like it!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

You spend most weekends at Joel’s now. 

It wasn’t an active decision, just one that came naturally, like most things seemed to when it came to the two of you together. You knew where he kept his spare key, you knew what drawer the whisks and spatulas were in, and you knew what it felt like to be fucked on every practical surface in the house—and fuck it, even many of the non-practical ones. (Like, who would ever think to fuck your pussy through the back slats of a kitchen chair? Or demand a blowjob right in the doorway of the open fridge, the cool tendrils of air flowing over his back and “Better make it fast babygirl, can’t let the food go bad,” dripping off his lips. Joel, that’s who).

You’re not entirely sure what the two of you are. You’ve never had the “exclusivity” talk, but you’re still pretty positive he hasn’t fucked anyone else. And god knows you haven’t. You can’t get this big-dicked motherfucker out of your mind. He promised to ruin you for other men, and you’ve discovered this is a man who keeps his promises. And you really, really hope one day he decides to keep you. 

Joel has to work on a rare Saturday, but you decide to stay over anyway. You knew he would fuck you stupid Friday night and you wouldn’t want to go home, so between your options of “don’t get Joel’s dick at all until maybe Saturday night” and “entertain yourself for a few hours while Joel works, and get dicked down probably at least twice before that” the answer is obvious. 

What transpires on Saturday is…probably your fault, you admit. Okay, definitely your fault. You kept the old man up too late, past his usual “work night” bedtime. But it was Friday, and you didn’t have work the next day, and all you wanted was for Joel to make you forget about your own shitty job and remind you who makes you feel so goddamn good. Make you scream it over and over until the neighbors have a plausible reason to call the cops. 

So when Joel’s alarm goes off at an offensively early hour on Saturday, neither of you has the energy for any sexy tomfoolery. You both thoroughly enjoy a good morning fuck, but that’s more favorable in the “9 or 10 AM” morning, not the “asscrack of dawn” morning. 

Joel showers hastily and throws on his clothes, pressing a bleary-eyed kiss to your forehead and swearing he’ll be back as soon as he can. You barely make it past the sound of the front door closing before you’re pulled back under the lure of sleep. 

Now, when you wake up again, well-rested and tangled in Joel’s sheets…it’s like a Pavlovian response. You hadn’t even been having a sexy dream, but you’re already wet and wanting. You toy with your clit lazily, pushing your nose into Joel’s pillow and basking in his sleepy scent to pull him inside you in some abstract capacity. 

Maybe you’ll give Joel a little something to make it through the day. 

You [10:36 AM]: I’m horny :(

Joel [10:47 AM]: I’m sorry baby. I’m really busy at work but we can play first thing when I get home.

You [10:47 AM]: But I want you now :(((

Joel [10:52 AM]: That’s not happening, baby. I’m very busy. Go find something to do.

You [10:52 AM]: I wanna do YOU 😡

Joel [10:53 AM]: And I said NO.

You grumble at his response. You know you probably shouldn’t, you know he said “no”. But you can’t fucking help it. You send him a little tease. Just your lips to your tits visible as you bite the former ones suggestively and press the latter ones together, covering your hard nipples with your forearm.  

You [10:55 AM]: [Image Attached]

Joel [11:00 AM]: [Voice Memo - 00:11] 

A voice memo? What, is he jacking off in a port-o-potty? You’re almost hesitant to listen, but you press play. 

Joel’s voice rings out shockingly harsh and firm through your phone speaker. “What did I just fuckin’ say? I told you no. Knock it the fuck off.”

And maybe it’s not the logical reaction, but his rebuking tone makes you angry. You’re trying to do something nice for him, bless him with a little filth from your goddamn fucking angel ass. You didn’t get any this morning because of his stupid job. You should be up to your fucking stomach in Joel dick right now. But nooo, Mr. “Miller Contracting” won’t force Tommy to cover for him. What’s the fucking point of being a boss if you can’t boss around your employees? Or your brother whose name is also on the damn logo? 

Fine, then. You’ll show him just what he’s missing. 

You deliberately snatch up his fluffy pillow clad in its navy blue pillowcase and bend it in half, then straddle it. You take your own pillow in its differing white pillowcase and use it to prop your phone. He knows which pillow is his, he’ll be able to tell which one you’re defiling. You drag your pussy along the material, seeing the fabric bloom noticeably darker and streaked with translucent white from your slick. Good. 

You back your hips up a little to ensure the darkened blotch is on display and you set the camera timer on your phone. As it ticks down, you use one hand to cheat the pillow downwards to show off the damp spot, and bury the other hand in your hair. Poised like you’re riding his pillow like you should be his cock. 

Satisfied with your self-proclaimed groundbreaking photography skills, you send it off. 

You [11:13 AM]: [Image Attached]

You wait. And you wait. And when you’re sick of waiting, you send a follow-up text. 

You [11:43 AM]: Bet you wish this was you don’t you, daddy? 😏

The message you send is stuck, not marked as “delivered”, until finally the blue bubble switches to a telling bright green. 

Sent as Text Message

Is your phone not getting service? You check your internet on your phone and it’s loading fine. Your cellular is still turned on and you have bars. Joel clearly has service at his site, he received the last picture. 

You [11:46 AM]: Daddy??

Green.

You [11:47 AM]: Joel??

Fucking green again.

There’s no way. He fucking blocked you. 

–

When you hear Joel come in, the door slams louder than usual. You’ve been fired up all day, just stewing in your own anger at being completely cut off from him. What if something had happened? What if there was an emergency?

You leap up from the couch as he kicks off his work boots, and square up with him. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you block me?”

Joel just gives you a fleeting, hard look as he shifts his jaw, and swerves around you to the kitchen. 

“Hello?” You enunciate louder, following behind him. 

He just heads right on over to the cabinet for his whiskey, pouring himself two fingers and throwing it back. The glass clatters back onto the counter and Joel glares at it, as if willing it to fill itself again. 

“What, so you’re not talking to me now?”

He meets your eyes with another cold look and then eyes the whiskey bottle again as his grip tightens on the counter, leeching his knuckles of color.

Oh.

Oh shit. 

He’s mad mad. Not “fun” mad. Actual mad.

“Daddy–”

“Go upstairs. Wait for me on the bed. Don’t undress.”

“But–”

Joel shakes his head and levels you with a single look. “So help me god, if you give me attitude right now…”

Something about the way he says it has you swallowing and chills running down your arms. 

You nod curtly and head up the stairs. You panic slightly because he didn’t specify where on the bed or how to sit. It’s something you’ve never overthought before, but at this moment it feels like it matters greatly. You opt not to get too comfortable, sitting neatly on the side of the bed with your head down. You worry your bottom lip as you wait, twiddling your fingers in your lap.

When Joel enters, he doesn’t speak. You look up through your eyelashes to see him stretch his neck from one side to the other, hearing the faintest pops at the movement.

He walks into his closet for a few minutes and emerges with his shirt off, his jeans unbuttoned, and a small black rectangular leather paddle in his hand. He doesn’t bring attention to it. He doesn’t wack it against his hand to build the tension. He just holds it loosely by the handle at his side.

When he notices that he has your attention he nods his head toward the end of the bed and says with an eerie calmness, “Bend over.”

Your stomach flutters with nerves, and not the exhilarating kind you’ve come to associate with your standard interactions with Joel. This Joel is different. Quiet. Disquieting.

Joel is never quiet in bed. He almost seems to make a point not to be.

You’ve known that this scenario was a possibility for a while now. You’d both gone over expansive lists of interests, limits, and hard limits and exchanged them with each other. Discussed them and what the expectations were. You knew punishments were on the table. Punishments with a paddle. Some with instruments even more intimidating, only to be used after prior mutual discussion and approval. So it’s not exactly unexpected, but it is a bit of a surprise.

You crawl to the end of the bed and drop your feet to the floor, bending over the edge and giving him total access to the expanse of your ass. 

“Daddy, I’m sor–”

“Shut up.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you can already feel tears burning your eyes.

“I don’t want a single word comin’ out your mouth that isn’t you countin’ out your punishment or your safeword. Is that clear? Don’t speak, just nod.”

You nod, wiping your eyes on your arm after.

“Since this is the first time, I’m only givin’ you five. I will not be so generous in the future. Understood?”

You nod again.

Joel lifts the skirt of your dress over your ass, revealing your panties that still bear a significant amount of wetness from your opening. Something about that has shame billowing in your chest, like that alone might be a disappointment to him. You want to apologize, but you don’t. Speaking would just exacerbate his mood.

He doesn’t comment on the proof of your arousal. His fingers curl into the band of your panties and tug them down. The cool leather of the paddle still in his hand glides on your skin at the action and it triggers goosebumps on your arms. He doesn’t ask you to step out of your underwear, just leaves them trapped at your ankles.

“Now, before I start, I need to make sure. Do you know why I’m doing this? You can answer.”

“I disobeyed you.”

“In what way?”

“I kept pushing you to play with me when you said no.”

“And do you agree that deserves a punishment? Not asking if you want one. Do you deserve one?”

You nibble at your lip. “Probably. Yeah.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Now I want to hear you count. That’s it, nothing else. You don’t count within five seconds, we start over. Understood?”

You nod. 

Behind you, Joel takes a deep breath through his nose, like he’s grounding himself. He places the paddle against one of your cheeks and runs it in a tight circular motion, acclimating you to the feel of the leather. Then in one swift motion, the paddle pulls back and returns in a hard thwack. 

The stinging impact has an involuntary uhn sound pushing out of your chest. You don’t give yourself time to worry about if that counted for him as an unacceptable word. You clear your throat and give a shaky, “One.”

The leather is back at the spot where the paddle landed, rubbing soothing circles over the affected skin. The lack of comment on your exclamation leads you to believe that any sounds you make are likely okay. A small mercy, considering you aren’t exactly sure how your body is going to respond to this kind of treatment. Yes, Joel has spanked you before–and often–but only with his hand. The paddle is a new experience. On top of that, Joel’s mood tonight is very different from usual. The spanks feel drastically more momentous than some fun slaps to the ass during sex or at random moments when you’re together.

This time the focus is the spanking. 

You flinch before the next hit, but it does nothing to soften the blow. This one is even harder, marring your other cheek. “Two,” You squeak out, heated tears falling all the way down to your neck, under your chin. You use your shoulders to wipe them clear again. 

The paddle soothes the mark again and you shift your head to sniffle into your forearms. 

“Face out of your arms. I need to hear you,” Joel instructs with a sharpened brevity.

You sob once but do as you’re told, turning your head so your cheek lays on your arm instead. 

On the next hit, you actually hear Joel grunt with the force of it, and even if you hadn’t heard it you would have felt it. The cry you make has your throat tingling and your toes dancing on the carpet, but Joel secures you in place with an unyielding hand between your shoulder blades. Joel drops the paddle on your back and uses his other hand to massage the new impact area. 

You nearly forget your orders and spew out a hurried, “Three!”

Joel seems content with that, as he just keeps massaging you but lets up on the pressure at your back. He takes up the paddle again, this time placing one of the corners at the top of your ass and sliding it between your cheeks. He uses his grip on your ass to spread you open a little more for him. 

The corner of the paddle catches on your puckered hole and you whimper. Ignoring the noise, he continues downward until it’s wedged between your wet lips. It slides with no resistance, gliding back and forth through your folds. 

The stimulation has you moaning pathetically and rocking back into it. He retracts the paddle immediately, raising it up to his eye level like an inspection. Then it’s hovering in front of your face, coated with your own pearlescent wetness against the stark black. 

“Clean it off.”

You don’t hesitate, sealing your lips over the leather and sucking it clean of your juices to the best of your ability. 

When he’s satisfied with your work he retrieves it, rubbing the spit-slick leather on your ass again. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel close his eyes and take another deep breath. 

As the paddle leaves your skin, you brace yourself for the next impact…but it doesn’t come. You allow the tension to release from your body, and only then does the next one land heavy and hard on your unsuspecting cheek. “Ah! F-four!”

You’re not positive, but you think you hear Joel huff out a quiet laugh at his fake-out. Dick. 

At the same time, if it was a laugh…that is much more your Joel. And that prompts a little relief. 

The wait for the last spank is a brutal one. He’s drawing it out intentionally, you can tell. It’s a hint of that playfulness seeping back into Joel’s bones. You remain behaved anyway, resigning yourself to your punishment. 

When it finally comes, it’s not nearly as harsh as the previous ones have been. Not much more than a sharp tap. Enough to irritate the already punished skin, but not enough to create a new mark. 

“Five.”

Joel tosses the paddle onto the bed, working the abused flesh of your cheeks with broad, warm hands. He crouches down and slips your panties back over your ass. “Stand up.”

You sniffle and push yourself upright, arms crossing defensively across your chest.

“Turn around.”

You shuffle your feet until your body faces his, keeping your eyes locked on the carpet. Two broad hands cup your cheeks, wiping the tears under both of your eyes in unison. “Please look at me, baby,” He utters softly, more like an order than a plea, but still coated in tenderness.

You scrunch your eyes closed to clear your eyes of tears and open them right into his wide, sympathetic brown eyes.

“Are you okay?”

A brief sob claws its way out of your throat before you can suppress it. “I didn’t like that at all, daddy.”

The corner of Joel’s mouth quirks into a gentle smile. “Well you’re not supposed to like it, are you, babygirl? ‘S a punishment.”

“Your punishments are usually fun…”

“This wasn’t meant to be a fun one, baby. I gave you a direct order and you ignored it. Repeatedly. And disrespectfully. Do you deny that?”

“I just didn’t think–”

“Do you deny it, baby?” He asks in a firmer tone.

“No. I don’t. I was disrespectful, sir.”

“C’mere.” Joel pulls you into him, enveloping you in his strong arms before you can even drop yours from their position at your chest. The dam finally breaks and you bury your face into the crook of his neck as you cry, Joel softly swaying you both back and forth. “‘S’okay, baby. Little girls need to be punished sometimes. You took it so well. Always take what I give you so well.”

“You were so quiet. I hated it.”

Joel holds you out from him to take in the hurt in your expression. It lightens the depth of his features. “You think I say all the shit I do for my own benefit? I take my cues from you, babygirl. I see how you react to me talkin’ to you like I do. ‘S why I talk so damn much.”

“So the silence was part of the punishment?”

“Ok, well, not entirely,” Joel amends, pulling you back in and petting at your hair. “I do tend to go a bit quiet when I’m upset. So, sorta half and half on that front. I’m sorry if that was hard for you.”

“And you blocked me?”

“Only for about an hour, baby. Enough to set a boundary. I would never stop you from bein’ able to contact me if you needed me.”

You peer up at him from your head’s place on his chest. “Really?”

“You can test it right now if you want.”

“No, I believe you. It just hurt my feelings.”

Joel captures your gaze, locks into it like he needs you to understand him. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, baby, but you weren’t listenin’. And it seems you’re havin’ a hard enough time dealin’ with just this. You really wish I’d’ve let you dig yourself even deeper?”

Your fingers preoccupy themselves with the unfastened button on Joel’s jeans—not with any real intent, just to busy them with something. “I guess not.”

Joel sighs and reassures his hold on you. You let him hold you close for a small eternity, wrapping your arms around him at some point during that span of time. 

When you finally have the courage, you ask, “Are you still upset at me?”

“No, baby,” He says into your hair. “You know, a punishment scene isn’t just for you. It’s for me too. Helps me to handle my anger in a more controlled way.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, now you do. It will never be my intention to actually hurt you, baby. Emotionally, at least. And if I ever go too far, emotionally or physically, I need you to tell me. We’re a team, you and I. Always.”

You glance up at him. “Always?”

He gives you a knowing smile and strokes a hand over your hair. “How about we unpack that another day. I think we’ve had enough excitement for tonight.”

“Okay.”

“But…,” Joel starts, squeezing you in his arms before following through with, “I said what I said.”

You hide your incandescent grin into his neck.

The two of you end up cuddling under the covers, Joel shedding his jeans for comfort’s sake and cradling you to him. 

“Could we—never mind.” You stop yourself, feeling your cheeks get hot. 

“What, baby?”

“No, never mind. I’m embarrassed.”

“Darlin’, you have no reason to be embarrassed about anythin’ with me. Promise. Go on.”

“I just…really want you right now.”

“Yeah?” He brushes at the hair over your ear. 

“I’m sorry, I know it might be weird after that, but—”

“You never need to justify your feelings to me, baby. There’s nothin’ weird about it. We had a bit of a scuffle. We got it sorted. And now you wanna feel close to me. That’s perfectly normal.”

“When you put it that way, I guess…”

“Have you eaten dinner?” 

You shake your head. 

“How about this. I’ll go fix us up somethin’ quick. Get you fed. Then we can show each other how sorry we are. Sound good?”

You nod, your fingers coming up to scratch at his beard gently. He leans in and kisses the tip of your nose, your forehead, and finally your lips. 

Joel flips the covers and rolls out of bed, leaning in to stroke your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll call up when it’s ready.”

You shake your head again and grab at his arm. “No. Wanna come with you.”

Joel smiles sweetly and nods. “Alright, come on. Let’s get some food in you.”

“And then get something else in me,” You mutter with a mischievous look. 

Joel just rolls his eyes good-naturedly and grips you by the ankle, yanking you toward the edge of the bed as you let out a loud squeak of surprise. “Yes, princess, and then something else.”

Your gleeful expression glows brighter at the pet name. 

“You like that one, huh?” Joel smirks, intertwining his fingers with yours as you head out of the room. 

“I just think it’s very fitting for me.”

“Just a nicer way of me callin’ you a spoiled fuckin’ brat, I s’pose.”

“Well, I like it anyway,” You muse, pulling Joel’s arm over your shoulder so you can cuddle closer to him as you walk downstairs. “And if I’m a princess, then that makes you the king I serve, doesn’t it, daddy?”

“I could get used to that, I guess,” Joel acquiesces, kissing your forehead. You hum happily, inhaling his scent and sighing in contentment. 

You sit on a padded bar stool at his kitchen island as he prepares dinner, chin resting on your propped-up hands as you study the way his muscles move during such a normal task. You love—really like how comfortable he’s become around you, wielding a cutting knife in nothing but his boxer briefs. He keeps catching you staring and tossing cheeky winks up at you or over his shoulder. 

In a previous moment of post-sex intimacy, he had shared that he may have been slightly self-conscious about his body around you at first, but there’s not a single trace left of that now. 

You adore the soft curve of his stomach and waist over the band of his underwear, smattered with the most delicious trail of hair that guides the way to the source of so many of your orgasms as of late. How could you not want to worship every aspect of the man who has brought you more joy, more pleasure, more pain than anyone else you’ve ever met?

Always, he had said. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. I said what I said. 

You eat quickly enough that Joel has to tell you to slow down. Even then, Joel still forces you to wait until he’s done eating. Testing your patience and making you wait just like that last spank. 

Joel finally throws his napkin onto his plate and you throw yourself at him in response. 

“Whoa, now, babygirl,” Joel holds you at arm’s length with a hearty chuckle. “Hold your damn horses. My dick will still be there in a couple more minutes.”

“I’ve waited all day,” You whine, stopping just short of stomping your foot on the ground in frustrated protest. 

“Don’t I know it, baby. Believe me. I just wanna say a couple things.”

Your shoulders slump. “Okay.”

He takes your face in his hands, staring with intent into your own. “I’m not gonna do the whole song and dance with you tonight, okay? I wanna take you upstairs into that bed, and I wanna make love to you.”

Your nose scrunches reflexively at the use of that term. 

“Hey, now. Don’t make that face at me.”

“It’s just such a…dime novel term.”

Joel quirks an eyebrow. “That meant to be a crack at my age?”

“No,” You tease, turning your head to the side to kiss his palm. “Never.”

“Come on, babygirl,” Joel withdraws his hands and plops them in his lap, “This is something I wanna do with you. I haven’t wanted to fuck a girl without all the…smoke and mirrors for…god, decades. You are the first one since…” Joel goes quiet for a moment, breaking eye contact in favor of staring at the floor. “Since my ex. So.”

“Joel.” You call him back to you softly, taking his face gently in your hand. You almost never call him by his name when you’re alone together, but this feels important. When he looks back up to you, there’s a slight shimmer in his eyes. It shatters your heart. “Joel, I would be honored if you took me upstairs and made love to me.”

“You sure?” You see something…hope, maybe? Flickering to life in his eyes.

“Yes,” You breathe as you fall into him, capturing his lips with yours. “Make love to me,” You whisper along his lips. 

Joel collapses into the kiss entirely, hand clutching at the back of your head as his tongue slips into your mouth. You suck on it lightly, enough to have Joel moaning and hiking your leg up around his waist. 

Your lips are swollen and kiss-bitten by the time Joel ushers you up the stairs, chasing after you in a way he never has before. 

You’re both naked by the time you hit the bed, crawling up to the pillows and Joel gravitating toward your magnetic pull. He settles between your legs, hands tangled in your hair as your lips meld together flawlessly. 

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby,” Joel breathes into you, his fingers massaging your clit leisurely. 

“Fuck, yes, dadd—um, can I…can I still…” You stutter, unsure of what Joel really wants in this moment. 

Joel pulls back to study your face. “You want to call me daddy still? That what makes you comfortable?”

You nod. “I mean, if you want, I can try—”

“No, babygirl, it’s just fine. You do what feels right to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Joel smiles softly, resting his forehead against yours. “My beautiful girl.”

Your heart feels like it’s dancing in your chest. His mouth finds yours again as his fingers resume between your legs, your orgasm swelling inside you embarrassingly fast after all the buildup. 

“Shit, daddy, I’m—” 

“I know baby, I know. Come for me when you’re ready. Been so good, so patient for me.”

Your breath comes out quicker as your pleasure swirls inside you, Joel’s movements so in tune with your body you’re positive he knows it better than you do. 

“Oh, fuck, daddy. You’re so…just keep…fuck,” You moan out, your voice dying out at the end as your orgasm overtakes you, bucking violently into Joel’s hand. He coaxes you through it gently, whispering praise into your ear, telling you how good you are, how beautiful, how perfect. 

It’s different, but not unsettling. Fuck, it’s nice. Joel without all of the harsh edges, without the degradation, the all-encompassing raw power he holds over you. 

And that’s not at all to say you would change a single hair on this man’s head. You love the filth, the name-calling, the control. But every once in a while…you could do this with him. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby. Wanna make you come again,” He rasps, capturing your lips with his, “And again,” another kiss, “And again.”

“Joel…” You sigh, melting into the pillows as his lips follow you down, rolling his hard cock into your hip. He doesn’t make a big deal of you saying his actual name, just moans into your mouth, sucking your lower lip into his. 

When he parts from your lips, he gives a short laugh as you chase after him. “Gonna give your other lips a little taste. That okay?”

You nod eagerly, eyes devouring him as he sinks between your legs with that damned twinkle in his eye. 

The tip of his nose caresses your inner thigh, his lips dragging wetly along. When he reaches your pussy, he tilts his head back to blow a cooling burst of air on your skin over the wet streak left by his mouth. 

“Fuck, daddy, don’t tease,” You whine, drifting your hand down to his hair to guide him where you need him, where you’re already throbbing for him to get you off a second time. 

He must really be serious about dropping the act because he lets you guide him. Lets you press his face right into your pussy. And he gets to work immediately, burying his tongue in your folds and sucking your clit into his mouth. You feel a finger trace the edges of your opening and you moan, driving your hips down onto it—a move that otherwise would probably earn you a smack to your pussy and Joel withdrawing completely. 

But he growls into it, sliding two fingers into your wetness as his tongue flicks at your clit. 

“Fuck, Joel, just like that, please,” You whimper as he hooks his fingers and massages that perfect spot inside you. His moan vibrates your clit and has you crying out for him again. 

Joel wiggles his pinky in with his two fingers, only fucking you with it for a few moments before withdrawing it and returning to two. You then feel the slicked finger prodding at your asshole, pushing past the ring easily with your own slick. 

“Ohhhhh fuck,” You moan breathily, rocking your hips down onto his fingers in both your holes. 

Joel hums into your cunt as he fucks you fast and smooth. “Love that ass gettin’ played with, don’t you, babygirl?”

“Yes, daddy,” You groan, “‘M gonna come again.”

“Such a good girl, princess. Come on my face. Come on my fingers.”

This orgasm hits harder than the last one—you always come harder with something in your ass, you’ve learned. And Joel has internalized that knowledge, too. He indulges that as frequently as he can now. 

You don’t know what you call out as you come for him—Joel, Daddy, it doesn’t fucking matter. He still sucks you, fucks you through it just the same. Revels in the way your thighs box him in, squeeze against the sides of his head. The way your hands yank at his hair, scratch at his scalp. 

And when your body goes limp and his glistening chin perches on your hip, his smile is glowing. 

“Looking pretty pleased with yourself down there.”

“Just nice to know I still got you wrapped around my finger when we’re doin’ it like this.”

You grin back at him, brushing through his curls. “Pretty sure I’ll take you however I can get you, Miller.”

A teasing, thoughtful look graces his face. “Miller, huh? Make you come twice without a hand around your neck and suddenly I’m ‘Miller’?”

“Amazing what I can get away with when I’m not skirting around a punishment.”

“Maybe not now. Don’t mean I won’t remember it for next time.”

You roll your eyes with a smirk. “Sure, old man.”

Suddenly Joel is hauling you down the bed toward him with a playful growl, prompting a startled giggle from you as he hovers over you with a broad grin. 

“Nothin’ but trouble,” He murmurs as he captures your lips again, stealing your laughter from you and making it his own. 

“You love it.”

Joel props his head on his hand, looking over you with a fondness, a vulnerability that almost feels forbidden. “I do.”

Your cheeks grow warm as his gaze lingers, his lips parted of their own accord like his mind is preoccupied with far more pressing matters than training his facial gestures. His thumb raises to stroke at your heated skin. He takes a deep breath. “Fuck it. I got somethin’ for ya.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Oh? Is it poking into my hip right now?”

He snorts, shakes his head. “Don’t be a brat. I actually got somethin’ for ya. Wasn’t plannin’ on givin’ it to you tonight, but. Don’t think I can fuckin’ wait any longer.”

“I get a present?” You ask, excitement lighting up your expression. 

“Bit of a selfish one on my part, but yes. One sec.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and lifts off the bed, padding to his dresser and retrieving something from his drawer. 

You sit up, your skin buzzing with intrigue. He’s never really given you anything before. Maybe it’s a toy for the both of you to play with together? Looks reasonably small from the way he has his hand wrapped around it behind his back. 

He kneels on the bed in front of you and you swear he’s blushing the slightest bit. “Close your eyes, babygirl.”

You obey without further prompting. He doesn’t make you wait long before instructing you to open again. When you do, Joel is holding a velvet box with a necklace inside—a delicate chain attached at either side of a simple, circular ring, like a perfect “O”. You recognize the style immediately. 

You can already feel the tears welling in your eyes as your eyes jump from the necklace to Joel and back again. “This…you’re giving me a day collar?”

Joel looks almost shy. You haven’t seen this man shy since your first date. “‘F you want it, of course.”

“If I…Joel,” You sigh, throwing your arms around him and slamming your lips together. Joel reels back in pleasant surprise, chuckling into your mouth as he steadies with a hand behind him to catch you both. 

“That a yes?” He mumbles against your lips. 

You break away from him to admire the collar again. “I mean… are you asking me to…”

“I’m asking you,” Joel confirms, his thumb running over the side of the velvet box. “I’m asking if you wanna be mine. Only mine. Make it all official.”

“Joel…” You sigh as a tear breaks free, a smile permanently etched on your face. 

“And I’ll be yours. Only yours. It, uh,” He tilts the box a little, “it locks in the back. I’ll have the key. And um, I mean you can get it off without the key. Y’know, ‘case of emergency n’all. But, I’ll have the key, and—”

You cup his face in your hands, effectively cutting him off and forcing him to look at you as he rambles with aversive eyes. “Joel? Yes. Fucking yes, of course I’ll be yours. Just wondering what took you so goddamn long.”

His laugh is light, relieved, and accompanied with the brightest fucking smile you’ve ever seen. 

“Put it on, please? I don’t want to waste another fucking minute not being yours.”

“Oh, babygirl,” Joel whispers, extracting the collar from its little platform and into his hand, “Far as I’m concerned, you’ve been mine since that first night.”

“Coulda told me that…” You mutter with a roll of your eyes. 

Joel glances up at you as he fiddles with the small key—what looks like the cutest little Allen wrench you’ve ever seen—and gives you a once-over. “Got a thick skull, babygirl. Took some time to make its way through. Besides, good girls have patience, don’t they?”

“Don’t tell my Dom, but I’m really not that good of a girl.”

He lets a laugh out through his nose as he brings his attention back to the lock. “‘F I was him, I think he’d already know that. And I think he wouldn’t have you any other way. Even if it goddamn kills him.”

“Maybe,” You muse with a sly grin. 

Joel’s hands work surprisingly nimbly as his thick fingers fuss with the lock, unscrewing it quickly. Your heart melts considerably as it occurs to you that he’s practiced this. He took the time beforehand to learn exactly how to unlock the collar to make it go smoothly for this precise moment. And just that small gesture, that small amount of foresight. It’s embarrassingly trivial, but the feeling billowing in your chest…that’s not trivial. 

“Turn around, babygirl.”

With your back to him, he drapes the chain around your neck. The second you feel the fastened clasp settle against your skin, your fingers fly to the little ring, lifting it to see for yourself that it’s there, that it’s real. 

Joel’s lips press against your neck softly, enveloping his arms around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. “Looks perfect, baby. Like it was meant to be there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You cradle his face and pull him into another deep kiss, feeling him relax into you. 

“Can I ask for a little favor?” You utter against his lips. 

“Anything, baby.”

“I would very much like you to fuck me in nothing but your collar.”

Joel groans and rests his forehead against yours. “Been waitin’ to hear you say that since I bought the damn thing.”

“Which was when?”

“No comment,” He mumbles as he kisses you again, lying you down amongst the sheets. 

“Joel Miller! How long have you had that collar?” You demand with a scandalized look. 

“I said,” Joel grunts, giving you a hard stare, “no comment.”

“You were hoarding my gift!”

“I was waiting for the right goddamn time, little girl. Don’t go givin’ me lip or I’ll take it right back,” He threatens, pinching the ring between his fingers. 

You scowl and grab it from him. “No. It’s mine now.”

“You’re mine now,” Joel growls into your neck, sucking at your skin and nipping with his teeth. 

You moan at the impending mark he’s painting on your neck. “I’m yours now.”

“That’s right, baby.”

“Please put your cock in me, daddy,” You whine, rolling your hips up into him. 

“I will, baby. Spread your legs.” Joel helps you spread them open as he positions himself in between them. He parts your wet folds with his thumb as he strokes a hand down his cock. “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

Joel dips the head between your lips, running it up and down the length of your pussy and catching at your entrance. You moan and rock your hips, trying to push him deeper when he teases your hole. He bites his bottom lip as if he’s holding in a giddy laugh, refusing to sink into you. 

You groan in frustration, dropping your head into the sheets. “Daddy, please. I’ve been waiting for fucking ever, I need you in me right fucking n—oh fuck!” You gasp as Joel plunges inside you without warning, pressing your thigh wide open against the bed and sliding his entire length inside you at once. 

“Like that, baby?” He can’t keep the smugness out of his voice, even when it’s strained from how tight your cunt is squeezing him. 

“Fuck, yes, daddy. Just like fucking that, shit.”

“God, such a perfect fuckin’ pussy, babygirl. All fuckin’ mine, huh?” He grunts as he sets a punishing pace inside of you, giving you every bit of what you were begging for and more. 

“All fucking yours, Joel. So fucking yours.”

“And what about this dick, huh? Tell me whose dick this is, baby.”

You look up at him, and there’s no trick question in his eyes. Just pure, feral passion. He nods down at you once, panting as he fucks into your tight heat, urging you on. 

“Is it mine, daddy?”

The corner of his mouth tilts up in a half-smile, his hips slapping into yours in the most delicious way. “Sure as hell fuckin’ is, baby. All fuckin’ yours. Much as this sweet little cunt is mine.”

“Fuck, daddy,” You moan, digging your heels into his ass and silently begging him, harder, faster, fuck, please. 

He takes your cue, pushing the backs of your thighs into your abdomen and slamming into you like he has a fucking score to settle. Your words turn to little more than gibberish mixed with the filthiest sounds you can manage to materialize. 

Joel drops to his elbows, meeting your lips in a sloppy dance that somewhat resembles a kiss as the warmth of his breath washes over your face. “Feels so fuckin’ good, baby. God, I love this pussy. Wanna fuck it forever.”

“Do it,” You breathe out, your nails raking down his back, all the way to his ass, urging him even deeper inside you. “Fuck it forever.”

Joel groans into your neck and searches for your hand with his own. You slide your fingers through his and squeeze. He squeezes back. The speed of his thrusts lessens, growing more languid—pulling out to the tip and then gliding back in balls deep, as if trying to savor the clench of your pussy around every inch of him. 

And god, the way Joel fills you entirely, like not even a sliver of your pussy evades him…you could fuck him forever and never get bored. Never want for more. Just more of him. The hand not holding Joel’s floats to your collar, curling your fingers around the pendant. 

“Just gonna keep fuckin’ you and fillin’ you up ‘til it sticks.”

And you know what Joel means. Well, you know what he’s saying. Whether he means it or not is really neither here nor there. Because right now? Right now there’s nothing that has your pussy purring more than the thought of Joel shooting load after load up your pussy for the rest of your lives. So you’ll happily play along. 

“Yeah, daddy, knock up this pussy.”

“Fuck yeah, baby. Just fill you up and fill you up until I finally fuck a baby right into that belly. And then just keep fuckin’ you, keep you so full-a daddy’s come. Overflowin’ with it every second of every fuckin’ day.”

You whimper at his words, the euphoria of his cock pushing open your walls over and over, your legs shaking uncontrollably around his waist. “Fuck, daddy, I’m gonna come again.”

Joel wedges a hand between your bodies, expertly circling your clit as his thrusts gain momentum. “Go ahead, baby. I’m right there with ya. Squeeze the come outta daddy’s cock for me, princess.”

With the culmination of Joel pumping inside you with such overwhelming presence, his fingers rubbing you just right, and his words hitting every fucking weak spot in your defenses, you unravel almost instantly. Your back arches off the bed, nails embedding in Joel’s hand and your new collar imprinting into your palm. As you pulse around his cock, you feel him pulse inside your pussy in turn with a feral grunt, filling you up just as he promised. Just as he always does, never tires of doing. Marking your insides for himself, as he now officially has your outsides. 

Joel’s face buries into the crook of your neck, his breath coming in short bursts as he catches it. “Perfect—fuckin’—pussy. Fuckin’ perfect. My perfect—girl.”

You lace your fingers through his sweat-damp curls, holding him against you like you can absorb him into your soul, your heart, your blood. Unfortunately, the best you can do is soak in his haphazard kisses, feel them dry into your skin, the accidental scrape of his teeth as he fights through his exhaustion to keep touching you with every part of him. 

His cock softens, but he doesn’t budge. Just draws closer into you, sharing each other’s heat. He’s heavy on you, but like a weighted blanket that radiates his smell, his warmth. After all that’s occurred today, it’s welcome. The sturdiness of him, the groundedness. It feels…peaceful. And with the way Joel’s breath eventually evens out, you almost think he falls asleep until he proves otherwise. 

“You okay?” The low timbre of his voice vibrates through your chest. 

You smile to yourself, burrowing your nose in his hair and taking him into your lungs. “Never been better.”

Just for funsies, some references (mind your browser history here i think lmao). The collar (but with a locking clasp) and the paddle.

--

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#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou #the last of us #katy wroted fic #daddy!joel miller #dom!joel miller

[anjaelle]

hii, can you write a dave lisewski x reader where reader is new at school and he volunteers to give her a tour of the school. Dave thinks she is really pretty and wants to be her friend, he asks questions about her and finds out that she likes comics and superhero’s just like he does and he asks her to come to his house after school to watch a new marvel movie that just came out. she says yes and they watch the movie at his house. during the movie dave just can’t keep his eyes off of her and he’s so in love with her even though he just met her.The movie ends and he walks her home because it’s getting late and he doesn’t want her to possibly get into some kind of danger. when they make it to her house( he finds out that they live close to one another) she thanks him for being so kind to her and kisses him on the cheek. he blushes and wishes her a goodnight. from then on they become great friends and maybe even more. (SORRY THIS IS SO LONG, js wanted it to be detailed so it’s easier for you!!🤭)

@baddestdu0y3t

Pairing: Dave Lizewski x New Girl!Reader

Warnings: None. Except general teen awkwardness?

a/n: Ok so I'll be honest and say that I haven't written for highschool characters since I was a highschooler myself about 10-11 years ago. So I'm admittedly a bit rusty. I probably won't make this a regular thing, because I don't really think I'm good at it haha. And I changed some things around and cut some things out for brevity, but kept the important bits. It kind of feels like a coming-of-age romcom.

(gif source)

--x--

Dave would happily get stabbed and hit by a car twenty more times if it meant he wouldn't have to deal with the current situation he was in. He'd dripped oil from his bacon egg and cheese in his lap, and tried to clean the stain with soap and water, which created an almost bigger stain. The hand dryer in the mens room wasn't working, there were no paper towels, and he was running late to homeroom. Todd gave him a sympathetic pat on the back and offered the ever-helpful comment, "Don't freak. It'll dry eventually."

But it'd been a half hour, and it hadn't dried completely. A few people passed him with looks of disgust.

This day was already turning out to be shit, and it was only 9 AM. He shoved his head in his locker, wishing that a sinkhole would form in the middle of the school and swallow him whole. As the hallway cleared, he noticed you looking down at at a paper and distractedly walking in one direction before turning a corner and disappearing. You then turned back around and walked past him again in the other direction, with a furrowed brow and a pouting lower lip. When you turned to pass him a third time, he closed his locker and awkwardly leaned up against it.

"Hey! Are you lost?" He nearly shouted at you. You stopped short, startled out of whatever daze you were in, and looked at him as if you didn't even notice there was another person in the hall until now. Any plans he had to have a normal conversation left him immediately. He cut his eyes away from you. It was like staring into the sun.

"Hi." You re-adjusted your bag on your shoulder, "And yeah. This school is way bigger than my old one and I'm kinda turned around."

"Oh, yeah, totally, for sure. It's--yeah, it's big." He said awkwardly pulling at the straps of his backpack, "I mean, the school is big. The halls are big. It's a maze. Even I still get lost sometimes, and I've been here almost 4 years."

God, Dave, shut the fuck up.

You giggled at him and he felt his cheeks warm at the sound of it.

"Um, can you help me?" You asked, quirking your head to get a better look at him.

"Sure. Yeah, I can walk you to your next class."

You smiled at him and he smiled back, revealing the cutest dimples you'd ever seen.

"What about your class?"

He peeked at your schedule and his brows disappeared under the curls on his forehead, "We have the same homeroom. So we'll be going the same way."

He was very different from the boys you talked to at your previous school. You thought of what your old friends would say about him. You weren't super popular or anything, but you navigated most social spaces with relative ease. It also meant hiding a lot of yourself. Dave had a kind face and warm eyes that studied you with a sense of eager curiosity that flattered you. Incidentally, you were curious about him too.

When you introduced yourself to him and shook his hand, you noticed immediately how strong his grip was and his calloused palms. Most guys you knew with hands like those played contact sports. He didn't seem like the type, at first glance. He seemed to notice your surprise but didn't quite understand the reason behind it.

"Sorry if my hands are sweaty," he said, instinctively wiping them on his pants.

You rushed to ease his fears, "No they weren't! You're fine." And then, "Do you play sports?"

"Nope. I mean...sometimes I play Wii Tennis. I don't know if that counts though."

You giggled again, "I think that counts."

Interesting. Maybe he did woodworking or mechanic stuff like your dad. You made a mental note for later.

You both strolled down the hall in no real rush to make it to your destination as you talked. He was incredibly animated and spoke with his hands when he got into the groove of the conversation. And when you talked about your old school or your family, he actively listened and asked even more questions.

"You're really cool," he finally said, breathlessly. If you could visibly blush, you're sure you would've. You've been called a lot of things, but never "cool" with such earnestness. "I just wish I'd met you when I didn't have bacon stains on my pants."

He looked down at himself again and grimaced at his own misfortune. You could almost laugh at how resigned he was. Like this was just an everyday thing he had to deal with.

"You could just do what the girls do when we have stains on our pants," you suggested. He quirked a questioning brow and you motioned with your hands. "Tie your hoodie around your waist. It'll hide the stain pretty well, I think."

His eyes widened like you'd revealed the secrets of the universe to him, "I...didn't even think of that."

He immediately took his backpack off and dropped it to the ground to unzip his hoodie. When you noticed his tee shirt, you heard an eager gasp slip from you before you could really stop it. His shirt had the different sketched out iterations of Batman's costume designs over the years, which included a mix of his comic and movie suits.

"I just really like your shirt." You explained as he tied his sweater around his waist. "I was raised in a DC household. My dad has a big box of old school batman comics in our basement that I used to poke through when I was a kid."

His face lit up at your confession, "You like comic books?"

"I used to. I mostly just watch the movies now. The good ones, anyway." You said, shrugging. In truth, you hadn't picked a comic up since middle school. You missed reading them sometimes, but you never really had anyone to talk about them with. So you just stopped. You explained as much to him and he hummed in thought.

"Well, you can always talk about them with me. Do you like Marvel, too?"

You scrunched your nose up at him and he gasped.

"I'm sorry," you couldn't help but laugh at his dismayed expression, "I just think most Marvel movies are corny. And the comics can be a little soap opera-y to me. Maybe I'll give the comics another try, but I don't think I've seen any recent movies other than Black Panther and Thor Ragnarok."

When he thought about it, he couldn't really blame you for feeling that way, "If you had to choose, would you say that those were your favorites?"

"Nope," you admitted, "My favorite is Captain America: The Winter Soldier."

"And not Civil War? That one's my favorite."

You shook your head as you both approached the door to your homeroom, "I may have only seen it in parts. I don't really remember it."

He bounced on the balls of his feet nervously and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Well if you wanted...we could watch it at my house next Saturday. Only if you want. My dad and my friend Todd will be there, so it won't be just us. But they won't be weird either. At least, I don't think so."

You smiled at him as he babbled on, only reaching out to lightly touch his arm. "Let me ask my mom. She might ask for your dad's number, if that's okay?"

A small smile graced his pretty face.

He nodded, "Totally."

Todd wasn't super happy with the idea of you joining their movie night. But Dave watched him warm up to you until you were both practically friends, too. He felt a twinge of jealousy at how quickly you two got along, but he summed that up to just how friendly and easy to talk to you were. He knew the movie front to back, so he couldn't help but watch you study the movie with deep interest to see how you reacted to his favorite parts. When all was said and done, the three of you sat in the living room discussing Civil War and if you were Team Cap or Team Stark. You all seemed to be in agreement that Tony was a war criminal who indoctrinated child soldiers. But you all were in disagreement about whether Tony deserved to have his ass kicked by two super soldiers.

"He literally didn't even know that he did anything wrong!" You argued to Todd, who rolled his eyes.

"You're only saying that about Bucky because you think he's hot."

"Maybe so," you admitted, "but my point still stands. He was brainwashed, he wasn't responsible."

"So you wouldn't be upset if I killed your parents, and Dave knew but hid it from you, and then beat you up when you found out?" The blond asked, popping a pretzel in his mouth, "I dunno. I'd be pretty upset."

"That's different, Dave would tell me." You responded with a coy wink at your new best friend.

Todd groaned, "You think he'd throw me under the bus for you?"

"I mean--" Dave cut in, pushing himself from the couch to stand to his feet and stretch, "--she is really pretty. And she smells nice. You're not as pretty and you just smell like Axe."

Todd gasped in mock hurt and you motioned to yourself as if to say "look at the material."

When 9:00 hit, you said goodbye to Dave's father who invited you and your family back for dinner, and hugged Todd goodbye.

"You're still wrong about Tony." He mumbled.

"You're in denial."

"You're In denial."

When you broke away to hug Dave he hesitated, "I was going to walk you home if that's okay with you. No pressure. I just...Uber is expensive on Saturday nights, and I know you don't live too far. But I don't want you to feel unsafe."

You noticed Todd shoot an odd glance at Dave before schooling his features. You made another mental note, but nodded.

"Sure, thanks."

You still weren't used to how long city blocks were. So even though you lived only a few blocks away, it felt like so much longer. Despite everything, you were surprised by how quiet this section of Manhattan was at night. Some people milled about, either going to or coming from someplace else. The air was brisk enough to add a jolt of energy to your system, but it still wasn't so cold that you felt any rush to get home.

"So what's up with the callouses?" You suddenly asked. Dave seemed confused by the question, so you grabbed his hand and held it up to him, then turned his hands over to show his reddened knuckles.

"Oh. I-I'm a...boxer. I box." He stammered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Only my dad and Todd don't know. So don't, like, bring it up around them. They'd freak out."

You hummed, "Okay."

He let out a sigh of relief. A sharp gust of wind from a passing wind tunnel chilled you to the bone, and you looped your arm through his.

"Oh!" You said, surprised.

"Are you cold?" He leaned in closer to you, "We can walk faster if you want."

"I just..my hands are a bit cold." That didn't explain the way you were wrapped around his arm like a boa constrictor. But he didn't seem to mind. He shifted his hand in his sweater pocket.

"There's some room."

You felt your stomach flutter when his hand brushed against yours in his sweater pocket. The flutter turned into a rapid thud when his fingers laced through yours. Despite how ice cold your hands were, he didn't pull away.

"Is that okay?" He asked, shyly, fully prepared to move his hand if you objected. You gave his fingers a small squeeze.

"It's great, actually."

You carried on the casual conversation for another few blocks before stopping at a newly renovated brownstone. He realized then that your family definitely had more money than his.

"Here we are."

You slipped your hand out of his grasp when you realized you still had it in his pocket.

"So...I'll see you monday?" He asked, fidgeting with a loose piece of string on his sleeve.

"Of course."

"Awesome."

"Yeah."

You looked him over one last time before you parted ways. He was your first real friend since you moved, but you still felt like there was so much about him that you didn't know. Not because he was particularly secretive, but because you felt like there was more to him than he let on. You unconsciously reached up and moved a curl away from his eyes. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, in response.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing," you said, "I just think you're really cool, Dave Lizewski."

His smile bloomed into a wide grin, exposing the deep dimples in his cheeks. "You're cool, too. Probably the coolest person I know, actually."

Your heart was thudding in your ears when you leaned up to press a gentle, lingering kiss to his cheek. Before you pulled away, you heard him gasp softly in surprise.

You suddenly felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and checked to see that it was your mom asking where you were.

You usually let your mom know ahead of time when you were on your way home, but you felt uncharacteristically out of sorts. You shot her a quick text letting her know you were outside.

"I hate to do this," you said, finally breaking him out of his stupor, "I really have to go now. Mom's asking questions. Text me when you get home, okay, Curly?"

You gently touched his arm and climbed the steps of your house to the front door. He gave you a weak thumbs up, but he still stared at you with a shocked, flushed face. "G-gotcha."

"And don't forget."

"I won't. I promise."

When you finally shut the door behind you, you peeked out of the small eyehole to watch as he touched his face in surprise and walked down the street in the wrong direction.

#jaelle writes #aaron taylor johnson x black!reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski x reader #atj x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader

[stealthetrees]

Okay I’ve snapped.

If you say Percy Jackson is stupid I will find you and make sure you regret it.

I have inattentive type ADHD. I was diagnosed in 4th grade and got put on medication. I did not think there was a difference but I got an award from the school for how much I improved. They didn’t know it was because of meds.

Before I was diagnosed I remember being on the verge of tears often at school because I got so frustrated that I couldn’t do work. I sat at my desk with the pencil in my hand staring at a worksheet physically unable to write the awnser I knew. I would stare at the question and like an optical illusion the rest of the page blurs together and I can’t even make out word anymore.

I thought I was dyslexic for the longest time because some fonts are so difficult for me to read. I could look at a recit, know it says lettuce, and it will not process in my brain. Unless I am a few hours away from a deadline it is nearly impossible to start assignments. Essays are hell.

You know those songs that have an American accent but are completely nonsense? That’s what it sounds like a lot when I listen to people talk. Usally I can grasp the general meaning but I can not tell you what word you just said.

Time is not real. I sit down, scroll through tumblr for maybe 15 minutes and my roommate asks why I’m sitting doing nothing for 4 hours straight. Full days disappear and I can’t remember anything that happened. I have no idea how long it takes me to do something I do almost every day.

I went two weeks at the beginning of the semester with meds that where 10 milligrams lower than my usual dosage. My grades still haven’t recovered.

THAT SAID. In cannon, Percy Jackson passed 13 years of school with high enough grades to be accepted to a university. Not medicated. Without accommodations.

So either the education system in New York is taylored specifically for people with ADHD, or Percy Jackson is a fucking geinios. I can’t spell.

So ignoring the fact that nearly every fight he won by outsmarting his opponent, let me tell you why.

In the books, he’s an introvert, sits in the back, tries to keep his head down but usually fails, gets detention often, and has been expelled multiple times. That’s not the kind of kid teachers go out of their way to help. He’s also unlikely to ask for help. So, despite his struggles in the classroom, he has never been held back or had to redo a grade as far as we know. And it’s pretty likely considering his age.

Add in the fact that he would be constantly sleep deprived from staying up very late (like from 10-3, based off my experience) and his dyslexia, Percy would need to be really good at retaining information after hearing or seeing it only once. That’s actually supported by his ability to memorize prophecies word for word after only hearing them once. We know Percy is bad at taking tests, so he would have to be really good at recalling information.

He also did it all unmedicated. I want to cry just thinking about it.

tldr, the fact that Percy’s grades where high enough to get into college means hes fucking brilliant

#percyjackson #percy jackson #pjo #adhd #living with adhd #Percy Jackson adhd #adhd brain #school is hard #especially in an environment built to torture you #adhd problems #adhd post #adhd Percy Jackson

[just-antithings]

proshippers r funny to me because of the degree to which yall just lie. "we always tag our content correctly" no the fuck you dont ive been in the world you cannot trick me, trying to filter out all the ""shotacon"" when i still used ao3 was a nightmare because even when it wasnt split between 2293809 different euphemisms which changed frequently as everyone else started realizing "old man/younger man" was being used for like a 6 year old kid instead of age gaps between adults which outside of your roleplay most people do have a different stance on than pedophilia, and people constantly just posting 5 yr old/20 yr old porn ageddown porn of canon adults with zero relevant tags. this has been my experience in all of fandom, telling a proshipper that they need to avoid posting untagged graphic rape porn in tags for shounen is apparently as painful as having your leg sawed off from how people react to it. you have posts insisting that it is at all reasonable for an ao3 user who doesnt want to see pedophilia should simply filter out every possible shotacon ship which is what i did so i can tell you thats incredibly unreasonable because that number is generally in the thousands, doesn't count as "tagging correctly", and also DOESN'T WORK because again people will just not tag shit or do agedown porn without tagging it so you can be in the tag of a ship for characters who are 50 and 60 in canon when lo and behold AU porn where the older one is babysitting the younger one and theyre 20 and 10, no tags except "Au - babysitter". like tbc i do think that even if you have the minimum balls to tag your adult raping a kid porn "pedophilia" you should still be criticized for that which i know the main conceit of the anti anti movement is pretending is worse than murder, but its wild how often people let yall just lie that tagging correctly is the universal or even a common standard. thats not even getting into the fact that ao3 doesn't let you select tags to automatically filter so you have to type in every individual tag you want out every single time you do a search. but no everyone should have to spend 4 hours theorizing every possible way you could weasel words your way around describing an adult having sexual intercourse with a child and then individually type em all in just so they can see read old men fucking without one of them being turned into a middle schooler. like with every other anit anti talking point it runs into the ultimate problem that yall are lazy assholes who are in this community in the first place because youre so allergic to compassion you can only tolerate people esp children if youre jacking off to them and so any measure yall claim you take for the good of others is ultimately a lie. also i still havent forgotten all those times you defended irl pedophilia or that one time you said you had a kneejerk reaction to discredit someone talking about a case study of irl csa by defending the pedophile and blamed "antis" instead of the fact that you spend all day every day defending being attracting to children. which is much worse, obviously

#mod erin #ask #fan mail #you can report improperly tagged fics anon #csa mention #pedophillia mention #murder mention #shotacon mention #rape mention #child rape mention #ao3 discourse

[joanofexys]

gimme the Jude lore

okay okay Jude Reyes lore incoming

little breakdown first:

26 years old

he/him, pansexual, cis

played for the Trojans for 5 years

graduated with a degree in sports journalism

has adhd and depression (in the rambling bit tw right now for mentions of self harm and suicidal thoughts tying into this)

only child and still upset about it

does the most out of all my ocs to work with college players, spends a lot of his free time flying out to different colleges to work with coaches and teams cause he likes and he enjoys it (gets a lot of teasing about becoming a coach in the future)

knows english and spanish

and oh yeah he's a dealer who will play as an extra backliner if needed

blonde, 6'3, big brown eyes

got his ears pierced cause Mara said he'd chicken out

So yeah Jude graduated from USC at the age of 23 and he was recruited for olympic court when he was 25. He considers the Trojan's his family and still keeps in touch with all the upper classmen who he used to play with. He's very much taken the Trojan attitude into his professional career. He's known as a team player on the court and also a huge activist off the court. He's now involved in presenting the Day Spirit Award every year and he's incredibly proud to have been apart of the team consistently winning it. While Ilya falls into the Just Some Guy category, Jude really takes it up like 10 levels into Golden Child territory. He's the favored one for press duty and is most involved with his teams social media. He's usually the one to sit down for the little games or the ask me anything's or the interviews everyone else deems pointless.

tw for self harm and suicide mentions, you can skip to the next bolded line if you need to

Jude was diagnosed with depression when he was 19 after he came to Rhemann confessing that he had been self harming for a few months after the workload with his class got more difficult for him to manage and he started thinking about committing suicide. He was diagnosed with adhd a few years later when he was 22 and now he now manages both with a mixture of therapy and medication. He's not perfect and obviously that didn't get rid of his depression but he has always had a safe space to talk about it and to get the help he needs. He advocates a lot for mental health in general but especially where athletes where it tends to get ignored with all the pressure put on them and he brings that into all of his relationships with his teammates trying to create a safe space for them. He is a huge factor in actually getting Em, Mara, and Florian to see therapists and he's who Florian calls after his 5th attempt and takes him to the hospital.

okay heavy bit over

I need y'all to know that Jude popped into my head literally today. He was named like 3 hours ago. So this is all just kind of developing as I yap about him. He's big on team inclusion. Doesn't want anyone to feel left out. At first Ilya really butted heads with Mara and Florian cause they were Raven's and Jude was basically the one to get sick of that and tell them they needed to shut the fuck up and put on their get along t-shirt

He's generally pretty outgoing and he loves a good party. And by party he means hosting his team and having some food and drinks and visiting with every one. Though he does go a little crazy after a win and he will probably not get home till like 6 in the morning and then will sleep for a full 24 hours

He comes off as very loud and flirtatious to most people, most people will think he is flirting even when he isn't and he has accidentally agreed to multiple dates before realizing they were dates and having to awkwardly let people down. He doesn't really date much, not seriously, largely because of how involved he is with the media portion of his job. If he does end up dating (and I don't have anyone set up for him yet) it'd most likely be another exy player who is also super involved with the media and interacting with the press

and yeah that's a little bit about Jude

#thanks to everyone who asked about him <3 #asks #codename-adler #my ocs #oc: jude reyes #aftg ocs #aftg oc #aftg

[beechersnope]

Summer of Cum Days 10/11/12: cock warming, cinnamon bun, coming dry

christian/max, warnings for christian being a generally awful person, abortion mention, consensual somnophilia, 1046 words

***

Christian’s cock has been inside her for close to an hour when he finally remembers that Max is supposed to be on her period.

She’s fast asleep; she needs it, has to get up early to make a flight and then it’s work, work, work as soon as she lands. Christian doesn’t want to wake her, and he’s more than comfortable himself, so he closes his eyes and does the math in his head rather than rolling over to grab his phone from the nightstand to confirm.

It isn’t a fetish thing. Max’s period cramps are so bad that she can barely race without a steady supply of just the right sort of painkillers, hot water therapy, intensive massage—and copious amounts of orgasms, of course.

Keeping a log of Max’s menstrual cycle in his calendar is just the sort of thing that any good team principal would do for their star driver.

Christian counts backwards to the last time he’d had Max squirming in pain in his bed, tucked up in the fetal position with his fingers inside her and a dark-colored towel under her hips. This should’ve been the last day of her period, he realizes, which means she isn’t just late, she’s late.

Christian feels himself getting hard again inside her and stifles a groan in the tangled mess of her hair. He’d already come three times: once with her riding him, then again with her on her back, then finally like this, spooning as she fell asleep. He hadn’t expected to fuck her again, not at his age, but the thought that she might actually be pregnant has him feeling as though he’s nineteen again.

She’s not going to keep it, of course. Christian will tell her in the morning, and he’ll make all the necessary arrangements to keep things discreet so she can race in the rest of the season and win him a championship. But that doesn’t make the current reality any less potent.

Max isn’t a light sleeper, but Christian knows that he can’t fuck her the way he really wants to without waking her, so he stays inside her for the moment and breathes out quiet little groans against her back as he gently grinds his cock inside her.

It feels good, even without the friction he so desperately craves. She’s always tight, unable to fully relax even in her sleep, and he can feel her pussy fluttering around him every time he moves so much as a millimeter. He thinks he could come like this, but it isn’t what he really wants.

Christian waits until the last possible second before pulling out with a too-loud gasp that echoes in the silence. He rolls onto his back and waits, listening to the steady rhythm of Max’s sleep-breathing, peaceful and uninterrupted. Carefully, he extricates himself from the sheets and gets out of bed, palming his cock against his belly as he circles around to the other side where Max is curled up.

It takes a few minutes to coax Max into the position he wants without waking her. He turns on the bedside lamp to its lowest setting, wanting more illumination than the light of the full moon outside coming in through the bedroom window. He pulls the sheets down past her feet, leaving them scrunched up at the foot of the bed. He carefully nudges her onto her back, arms above her head, legs splayed so he can see the damp center of her where she’s still open from his cock. There’s dried come at the edges of her pussy, and it makes Christian stifle a moan against the back of his hand.

Christian isn’t the only one fucking her, but he knows it’s been a while, maybe even long enough that it’s his baby in her belly. The thought has his balls drawing up tight against his body, his cock in his hand giving an almost painful throb. He almost wishes he could fuck off the rest of her season, just keep her here in Oxfordshire while she gets big and round with his kid. He’d fuck her endlessly, right up until the moment she's ready to pop.

Maybe someday he will, Christian thinks as he frantically fucks his own fist, staring down at the soft swell of her belly, even though there’s nothing there for him to see—not yet. Maybe once she’s done with Formula 1 for good, he’ll knock her up again, have her birth a whole litter of kids, even. Put them into karts once they’re old enough, the same way Jos did with her. That’s what they do with retired racehorses, isn’t it? Use them as breeding stock?

Christian carefully climbs up onto the bed and kneels over her as he strips his cock even faster. He’s close again, he can feel it, but after staving off release once, it eludes him the second time, making him even more desperate, the grip on his cock so tight it hurts.

Christian has visions of painting Max’s belly white with his come, but when his orgasm finally washes over him, nothing but a few drops of watery jism splash down onto Max’s skin. Christian lets out a disappointed whine, and immediately drops down to fuck his cock back into Max’s pussy before he can go soft.

Max gives a little jolt under him as Christian’s weight suddenly falls on top of her.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Christian says, carefully lifting himself back up again so he can look down into her face without pulling out of her.

“S’okay,” Max said sleepily. “What time is it?”

“You still have a few hours,” Christian reassures her.

He hesitates for a moment, thinking he should tell her now. It would be the right thing to do, the responsible thing to do. She could make her arrangements in Belgium with her mother at her side and come back to him once it’s over.

“Christian?” Max says, sounding a little more awake now. She must have seen the conflict playing out on his face. She was always just a little too good at reading people. “Is everything okay?”

Christian forces a smile. “Of course, darling. Go back to sleep.”

They still have plenty of time.

#summerofcum2023 #hornstappen #f1 smut #my fic #sorry for going sicko mode twice in a row #or not sorry if you are also a sicko #f1 rpf

[pearbunny]

the bucket list ✘ [two]

series masterlist | previous | next [ ❀ spotify playlist ]

summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was. 

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: angst, comfort, smut. 

general warnings:  tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of death in later chapters, overarching theme of mental health, eventual smut.

word count: ~4.2k 

chapter content: monologue, mc in her own head, anxious thoughts/tendencies, caffeine dependency, tattoo gun & needle, tattoos, Wooyoung (from ateez) makes an appearance, some(one?)'s catching feelings?

What the fuck did I just get myself into? 

You replayed the day’s events in your head. 

About two days ago, you were back home on your bedroom floor, reading an old leather bound notebook, the pages and its writings faded from age. This wasn’t the first time you’ve read the notebook, but this time, when you turned the page onto the bucket list, you felt compelled to look at it differently.  It wasn’t just a list. 

Take more risks. Be (a little) reckless. 

Could that really be classified as a bucket list item? Probably not, but it was on the list and for one reason or another, those words jumped out at you. 

Just like that, you decided that this was the last day you’d read through the bucket list without the intention to do anything about it. Bucket lists were made to be completed, or at least mostly completed. 

You looked through the list, found the most outrageous and reckless item. Travel to Korea. 

Within ten minutes, you convinced your boss to give you some time off, you booked a flight, found your passport—valid still, thankfully—, and had started packing. Usually, you were a planner. Your calendar app on your phone was linked to your personal laptop and your desktop at work. In addition to that, you had a planner you kept in your bag with color coded markers and stickers for certain kinds of appointments. If you weren’t running on the adrenaline of doing something spontaneous, you would have planned out your outfits for the next two weeks, you would have booked reservations at fancy restaurants you wanted to try, you definitely would have booked a hotel. 

Now, the adrenaline had worn off. You were staring at the ceiling, laying in a bed that wasn’t your own, in an apartment that belonged to a man you met barely 10 hours ago. 

What were your plans for tomorrow? In what order did you plan on accomplishing the bucket list? It wouldn’t make sense to travel to the countryside of Korea to see stars, come back into the City for something like an art exhibit at a popular museum, and then go back to the countryside to see the ocean. 

Also, there was the issue of money. It’s not like you could work somewhere, you were here on vacation, not a work Visa. And with the limited amount of money, you’d have to start researching some pretty inexpensive places to sleep at, especially if you wanted to use the money for traveling. 

Or maybe you could take an overnight bus. 

Let’s not forget about how not only did Jisung want to do this wild Bucket List with you, but you agreed to it. You knew nothing about him. This wasn’t the first time that the thought crossed your mind. 

How old was he? You assumed he was younger than you, but how much younger? Oh god, were you staying with someone barely 18? 'No, Y/N', you started thinking to yourself, 'He’s old enough to live alone... Which actually doesn’t necessarily mean he’s 18. There’s emancipation… Does that exist in Korea? '

Wait, but what if he was older than you? What if he just looked young? What if he was secretly two times your age? What if he was an older business man that expected you to accept his business proposal to act as his fiancé so that he could continue to run his family’s compa—  

This was insane. The whole thing was insane.

But you were so tired. 

So so tired.

——————————

Your eyes blinked open and it took a couple of moments for them to focus on the door to the left of the bed. You groaned as you sat up, stretching your arms above your head earning yourself a yawn. You stepped into Jisung’s guest slippers and shuffled your way to the bathroom. On the way, you noticed that Jisung’s door was slightly ajar, letting his music come through to the living room, it sounded like a pop rock song you had heard once or twice before. 

Your thoughts of last night came back to you under the hot water of your shower, but unlike the night before, you had a good night’s rest. You were awake and hopefully, you could rationalize things better. Or at least not jump to conclusions. 

You breathed in the hot steam, letting it open your lungs up. 

You still had your phone, it’s not like you weren’t completely devoid of contact with the world back home. You had told your dad that you were going to Korea. Granted, you called him at the airport and granted he wasn’t too thrilled, once you had explained why you were going, that it was on the bucket list, he had understood. “Be safe,” he had said. “I’m only a call away. I’ll hop on the next plane to come get you,” and you knew he meant it.

You also did take a self-defense class if it ever came to that…

Despite all of that, something in your gut told you that Jisung was a genuine person. Sure he was a pretty smooth talker, but in between those suave comments, you could see he was thoughtful, sincere. There were moments when he seemed a little awkward and those small moments were what made you believe he was a good person. 

After your shower,  you peeked your head out of the bathroom door, checking to see if Jisung was still in his room. To your surprise, he was at the kitchen counter. You had forgotten a change of clothes and were just in a towel. 

Jisung tossed a glance over his shoulder, hearing the bathroom door open. He looked back quickly at the coffee he was brewing. “Uh, I made you coffee.” You could see the tips of his ears slowly turn pink. 

“I’ll be right out,” You quickly ran to the guest room, clutching the towel around you. 

You dressed yourself in a pair of blue denim jeans and gray long sleeve shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder that you had tucked into your jeans. You came back out of your room, hair in a towel.  

As soon as you opened the door, the strong aroma of coffee came to your nose. You breathed the smell in deeply and sat at the island, an almost dreamy expression on your face. “Thank you for this. I’ve got a bit of a caffeine dependency.” You brought the large mug towards you, surprised at how light in color was. “How’d you know?” 

He laughed and rubbed at his nose with the knuckle of his index finger. “Kind of hard to miss when you happen to be only the second person I know in my life that doesn’t drink regular americano’s.” 

You smiled sheepishly and brought the coffee to your lips. “Hmm, could be sweeter.” You joked and laughed at the deadpan expression on Jisung’s face. 

“Any plans for today?” He asks you, checking his schedule on his phone. “I talked to my boss and was able to get a couple days off. I’ll probably have to work one shift since I made a deal with another coworker before I get the rest of the days off.” 

“I was thinking of seeing what the most logistical way to do the bucket list was. I was thinking of doing everything I can in the city first, then for more nature-like goals, I can take an overnight bus to the country! That way, I would spend less money on hotels for this whole entire trip. Which, again, thank you for letting me stay here, it’s honestly helping out financially. But you really don’t have to come with me for the whole two weeks, especially if it interferes with work.” 

He couldn’t help but crack a smile at your rambling, then took a sip of his americano. “Well seems like someone got some good rest in.” 

“Yeah, I did… why?” You raised a brow at him. That smile of his seemed like he had something else to add on. 

“Well,” he placed his cup back down and crossed an arm over his torso, biting on the tip of his thumb. He was holding back a chuckle. “I tried waking you up a couple of times.” 

Your eyes widened, “A couple of times?”

Jisung nodded, looking at the clock on the wall behind you. “Y/N… It’s already 6:30 in the evening.” 

“6:30?!” Your head whipped around to look at the clock, your towel falling off your head. You hopped out of your chair and speed-walked back to your room, careful not to spill your coffee on the way. “I only have two weeks here, Jisung!” You yelled at him from the floor in your room as you dug through your makeup bag. 

He followed you up until the doorway, where he just stood and watched. You turned your attention to him  from your reflection, “Jisung! Don’t just stand there; the book!” You pointed at the notebook on the desk. 

Jisung scrambled through the doorway and grabbed the journal, sitting on the floor. “Um, what am I looking for?” 

“It should be towards the end, it says ‘My Bucket List’, it’s in cursive.” 

Jisung squinted his eyes, “You realize that even people who know English as their first language can barely read cursi— Found it!” He was carefully turning the pages. “This book looks pretty old.” 

You shot him a glance in the middle of applying mascara on your lashes. You raised a playful brow and scoffed at him, “Are you calling me old?”

“What? No? No!” He stammered, clearly caught off guard by the accusation. “Of course not!”. He got on his knees and started to crawl towards you, pointing at an item on the bucket, “Well, you could have breakfast for dinner since you woke up so late.”   

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm lightheartedly. 

“Okay, well then, what about Get a Tattoo?” 

You finally finished with your makeup. You put your nearly dry hair up in a messy bun. You chugged the rest of your coffee, placed the mug on the floor and clapped your hands together. “Alright, let’s do this!” 

The loud hum of vibrating needles sounded over the hip hop track playing from the shop’s speakers. You were sitting on a couch, waiting while Jisung was dealing with the shop’s receptionist and gathering all the paperwork. Your right knee started bouncing, anxiety creeping in. 

He joined you back on the couch and placed a clipboard in your hands. “Okay, so… Name, date of birth, phone number, they said you could skip address, and terms and conditions yada yada, just check the box.” 

You smiled weekly at him, grabbing the pen attached to the clipboard and filling it out to the best of your abilities. “Thanks.” 

“Are you excited?” Jisung adjusts the gold rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up by the bottom of the frames. 

“Umm… I don’t know if that’s the word I would choose.” You started clicking the pen in your hands. Maybe the coffee wasn’t the best idea. 

“Okay,” he placed a hand on top of yours, prying the pen away. He took the clipboard and placed it on the coffee table in front of you both. “You’re nervous, I can see that now.” He chuckled softly, his brows knitting together. 

“Tattoos are permanent.” 

Jisung nods at you slowly, “I mean… yes. They are. But you’re not planning to get a whole sleeve… right?” 

You shook your head and if you weren’t so nervous, you would have laughed. Instead, you were too focused on the ache in your stomach, the clamminess of your palms. “No! Not that there’s anything wrong with sleeves, but that would be something I preferred to be more… thought out.” 

A man came in, tall, strong square jaw, and a slit in his right brow. His hair was jet black, parted in the middle and styled so that some of his hair fell just past his eyebrows. “Hi, y/n?” 

You stood up and took the clipboard with you in your hands. “Yes, that’s me.” 

“This way ‘round back.” The man steps aside to let you through. His eyes hold your own for a beat longer than normal. It causes a blush to adorn your cheeks. Jisung was right behind you and offered a tight lipped smile at the other man. 

“I’m Wooyoung. I’ll be tattooing you today.” He sits on a stool with wheels attached to the legs, allowing him to scoot around to what looked like his work desk. You took a seat on the padded tattoo table and handed Wooyoung the clipboard with your information on it while Jisung leaned on a wall opposite of you. 

“So, what are we thinking of getting today? Matching tattoos for the both of you?” Woo young looks over the forms. “Oh, just you today? Nothing for your boyfriend?” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you laugh softly, hiding it behind your hand. 

“Oh?” Wooyoung raises a brow at you. 

The tips of your ears reddened. You weren’t used to the attention. 

Jisung clears his throat, “Have you decided on a design, y/n?” 

You shook your head, “I still have no clue.”

Wooyoung looks you up and down, chewing on his bottom lip. “Okay, how big are we thinking?” 

You held up your index finger and thumb, extending them out as far as you could go, “No bigger than this.” 

Wooyoung nodded and grabbed a piece of tattoo transfer paper and sketched out the general size that you requested. “Any idea where you want it?” 

You shook your head again. “No… not really.” 

Wooyoung laughed with his whole chest, “Well, I guess this isn’t the first time someone’s come in here without much of a plan.” He took out his laptop and positioned it to show both you and Jisung the screen, scrolling through his portfolio. “Something sexy, something cute?”

“A little bit of both?” The words came out of your lips before you could really think it through. It surprised you, you always thought of yourself as getting a very minimalistic micro tattoo on your wrist. 

Jisung shifts his weight, arms crossed in contemplation. “Well, how visible do you want it?”

“I wouldn’t mind if it was hidden.” You took your hair down from the bun and tried to comb out the dent that the scrunchie left. 

“Okay, how about your sternum?” Wooyoung formed a rectangle with his hands and placed them against the center of his chest. “Kinda’ sexy, you can show it off whenever you want.” 

Your eyes glanced at Jisung, as if you’re looking for his approval. He raises his eyebrows at you and shrugs his shoulders. “This is all you. Whatever you get will look great though.”

Wooyoung’s eyes darted back and forth between you and Jisung. “You guys sure you’re not dating?” 

Jisung shook his head and smiled nervously. “We actually just met yesterday.” 

Wooyoung shrugs. “Never stopped me.” He said it under his breath, and judging by the look on his face, he was joking. Or at least half joking. 

“Anyway,” you take your hair down from its bun and attempt to comb the dent the scrunchie left. “I’m going to pass on the sternum.” 

Jisung pushed himself off the wall he was leaning, his eyes focused on you. “What about your neck?” 

Wooyoung scoffed, “She said she wanted it hidden, dude. That’s kind of the opposite.” 

“No, not like on the side. I mean like behind her neck.” He came behind you and gently gathered your hair, placing it over your shoulder. You held your hair out of the way, letting him see the nape of your neck. Jisung  grazed his fingers over your skin, a light, feather-like touch sending tingles down your spine, causing you to straighten up in your seat. “Something small. It would compliment how delicate your neck is.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

For a moment, you forgot how to speak in complete sentences. “Y-yeah, that sounds… great.”  

Jisung stepped back and took a seat on a similar stool to Wooyoung’s, sliding it over to sit next to you. The difference in height of your seats made it impossible for you to look him in the eye, you could only see the top of his head which you were thankful for. The blush was back adorning your cheeks and — when did it get so hot in here?

“Okay. No bigger than 10 centimeters, something delicate… Maybe fine line, then?” Wooyoung ponders for a bit, then places his pencil on paper. “Okay, let me draft a couple of things up and you can decide after seeing them. ” 

Jisung turns to you and places a hand on your knee. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Nervous. Excited.” You answered truthfully. There was a part of you that was a little afraid. You’d always wanted a tattoo, but the situation being played out right now was not at all the way you envisioned getting your first one. The other part of you? There was something thrilling about not having to mull over a decision for at least 3 months, not having to put it into your calendars, not having to ask for your friends’ opinions. It was thrilling living in the moment. 

“Okay, take a look at these.” Wooyoung showed you three options, all really simple and delicate. The first consisted of two small butterflies in motion, offset by a couple of centimeters to create a more dynamic look. The second was of a star, or what looked more like the twinkle of a star, not the typical 5 point star you’d draw as a kid. The third was of a single elongated rose stem. 

You held all three in your hands, looking over them carefully. Then, you showed them to Jisung at your side. “What do you think?” 

You focused on his eyes which were scanning the drawings carefully. Your eyes traveled down to his mouth when you caught the minuscule movement of his teeth biting on the corner of his bottom lip in thought.

“I like this one.” His hands grabbed the one in the center, the second one, and you looked back towards it. 

“I like that one, too.” And you did. You were going to choose it anyway, to be honest, but for some reason you valued his opinion on this. 

You sat against the tattoo chair that looked like an elevated massage chair. Your face pressed on the cushion that had a hole in the middle. Your hair was up in a ponytail and out of the way so that Wooyoung could tattoo the back of your neck. 

Jisung was in front of you, squatting so that you were both eye level with each other. He was holding your hand, something for you to squeeze for when it got painful. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, shutting your eyes. “If my hands are sweaty I mean.”

Jisung snorted in an attempt to stifle his laugh. “Eh, it’s okay. I’ve held sweatier hands.” 

If your eyes were open, you would have rolled them. 

Behind you, you heard Wooyoung’s tattoo gun turn on, giving off a high pitched vibration. “You ready?” He asked. He placed a gloved hand on a certain part of your neck. “I’m going to start right here. Just letting you know where to expect the poke.” 

“Poke?” You could almost laugh. A tiny needle stabbing into your skin wasn’t exactly just a poke. 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung said casually, shrugging his shoulders with a chuckle. “Just a poke. A lot of ‘just a pokes’.” You felt him hold the skin on your neck taut and he was about to start when he pulled back. “Also, try not to move your head. And relax. All of those things at the same time. You got it.” 

You opened your eyes and gave Jisung an incredulous look. 

This time, Jisung laughs. “Yeah, you got it.” 

“Here we go.” Wooyoung warned. Once the needle sunk into your skin, you shut your eyes and tried to focus on keeping still, keeping relaxed. You bit your lip to muffle the groan of pain. 

Jisung gently squeezed your hand, seeing your face contort in pain. You squeezed back gently, trying to keep your body from tensing up. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles, trying to soothe your discomfort away. 

After some time, Jisung squeezed your hand once, trying to get your attention on him.“You regretting it yet?” 

You were thankful for his attempt to keep it light hearted. You laughed and opened one eye, wincing through the scratching sensation on your neck. “Not yet, but this better be fucking cute when you’re done, Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung snickered and rolled his eyes as he wiped away the blood and ink so that he could see what he was doing. “We’re almost done.” He went back to work, not once taking his eyes off of what was in front of him. “What about you, Jisung. Do you have any tattoos?”

Jisung pauses, contemplating sharing that detail of himself. He scratches the back of his neck as a nervous smile plays on his lips. “Yeah. One.” 

“You do? Where?” You don’t remember seeing a tattoo in all the 30ish hours you’d spent with him. A chunk of it was spent asleep, but it’s not like you didn’t notice the tone of his arms, the curvature of his neck, the strength of his calves. 

“My back,” Jisung said casually. When you didn’t say anything, he continued on. “It’s just an abstract line that goes down my spine.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

For a second, you wanted to say ‘Can I see it?’ But thankfully, those were just thoughts and those thoughts would stay with you. ‘Cause that would be weird, right?

“All done,” Wooyoung did his final wipe on your neck. “Let me just clean it up.” He squirted some kind of solution onto your neck and cleaned up the tattoo, then handed you a mirror. “Check it out!” 

You let go of Jisung’s hand and grabbed the mirror from Wooyoung. You made your way over to the full length mirror at the far end of the room. Both Wooyoung and Jisung followed you, waiting for your reaction. You positioned your back to the full length mirror and held up the hand mirror to your face, angling it so that you could see the back of your neck and your new tattoo. 

There was a negative space at the center of the star, eight lines branching out from it. The longest line was the one on the bottom, longer than its top counter-part by six times. The line tapered off until it was just a dotted line. The four diagonal lines were not symmetrical with each other which gave off the illusion of movement.  It was delicate, it was minimalistic, and it was just what both Jisung and Wooyoung had said it would be: cute, but a little sexy. It gave you some sort of new found confidence. 

“I love it!” 

“Glad you do!” Wooyoung took the hand mirror from you and put it on a tray beside the table. He grabbed a tub of what you assumed was ointment and smeared it on your tattoo. After spreading it out, he patched it up in a protective clear plastic-like wrap. “You can take the wrap off in two days to let the tattoo breathe. Clean hands. Mild Soap. Moisturize with an unscented lotion. If it scabs or gets itchy, don’t pick or scratch at it.” 

You nodded, listening to all the instructions Wooyoung gave you. “Got it.”

Wooyoung hands you a rectangular card. “If you have any questions, you can call me.”  He points at his number on the business card. “My socials are on there, too.” He gives you a playful and attractive smirk then runs his hand through his hair. “Or… You could probably ask Jisung since he’s gotten a tattoo before.” 

You look at the card in your hand before putting it in your purse. “Thanks. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.” 

By the time you two stepped out of the tattoo shop, it had gotten pretty late. The street lights overhead and the neon signs of the stores and restaurants around were lit up, making the small alleys and streets come alive with all the different colors. 

You smiled brightly up at Jisung and spun on your heel, lifting your ponytail over to the front of your face to show him your new tattoo again. “What do you think? You like?” You were so excited you almost sang the words. 

Jisung tilted his head with a lazy smile on his lips, one that tugged at one corner of his mouth more than the other. He approached you from behind and took your ponytail from over your face, placing it neatly back in place. He tugged at your ponytail very gently in a teasing manner. 

“Yeah, I do like.” 

Before you could turn around to face him, he had stepped around you and continued walking down the street without you. “Let’s go find some dinner.”

If you paid attention, you would have noticed the tips of his ears had turned a bright pink. 

author's notes: I want to thank every single person who has left a like or a has reblogged either the first chapter or the masterlist so far. I haven't been very active in the fandom at all and I never expected anything I did to garner as much interest as it has already. ANYWAY. Might do a lil moodboard for chapters at somepoint. lmk if that's something that would interest anyone. also flirting is hard, writing two people flirting is harder.

taglist :

@burningchaosdeer, @bat-shark-repellant , @jisunglyricist , @captivq , @lixiel0ver , @channieandhisgoonsquad , @dalamjisung , @laylasbunbunny , @beanebabyy, @hyunfilms

couldn't be tagged

#han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #han x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #han jisung #jisung fic #jisung fluff #skz fanfic #jisung smut #han jisung series #jisung series #han jisung fanfic

[omegothic]

opinion on ffxv after 75 hours of playing (and one hour of running in circles to level gladio's skill up) (still haven't played any of the dlcs but i'm gonna take a break or something for a few days because i severely neglected my university stuff and spent most of the last week obsessively playing this game)

i love this game. am i tired? hell yeah. would i want all these hours back? hell no.

the game is a mystery to me.

the sidequests are genshin impact open world quests level (which means that if i hear anyone talking, i'm pressing the skip button because i don't give a fuck). you listen to someone yapping about unimportant stuff and they make you collect the same shit over and over again. peak game design.

the main quests are good but the ending made me age 10 years in a week. there's NO NEED for these tragedies. boy you literally have the power of gods on your side and they tell you the only way to get rid of the big bad villain is to kill yourself? sounds like bullshit to me. also why even bother if there's only a few thousands people left in the world. you already lost, all this stuff had to be done 10 years ago to have any meaning. and there's no way the world didn't just implode or something when the sun stopped rising. the true ending is noctis getting spat out of the crystal and realising everyone is long gone because there's no sunlight.

the mentally ill hobo could have been more cooperative too geez. i'll be honest i like him much more than the six. and everyone's like "oh gods are helping you" no they hate me and want me to die for no reason. i'd rather join forces with ardyn and try to take them down. even if he did a lot of questionable stuff (cough- killed my bride -cough-cough- and her brother -cough- also kidnapped my friend and tortured him-)

the hunts are kinda fun when it's a big monster but when it's a bunch of goblins i'm like,,, why did you call me here? ngl i thought all hunts would be like the first one, it was truly cool. there was some kind of plot, some interactions with my friends, some stealth, the monster seemed really tough (meanwhile me, fighting the lvl 99 adamantoise 65 hours later: the ring of lucii go brrr-)

the dungeons are ass. i thought nothing could be as disorienting as daggerfall's randomly generated dungeons but they really managed to do a miracle with ffxv. although the dungeons in ffxv are not scary at all, that's the difference.

the open world is okay. there're some interesting places (when you first see the big mysterious creature in the lake you're like do i have to fight it?? can i get closer to it?? what is this??) and the nature is beautiful. altissia looks majestic but sadly there's not much to do. i appreciate the hard work tho.

using regalia was a delight. when you want to take a break and just look at the landscape you can just sit still with a controller in your hands and enjoy the ride. really therapeutic. don't drive at night when you're low level though... listen to ignis. ignis is always right.

the camp life is by far the best out of all games i've had an experience with. there's so many little details everywhere that you cannot help but adore your companions. it's the way every time you make camp you get a bunch of photos prompto took since the last break. it's the way your companions talk to you almost all the time and you truly feel like you are on a road trip with your friends. it's the way gladio calls you out on your bullshit and afterwards you want to bite his head off each time you talk to him. it's the way ignis cooks for the entire party and makes you help him sometimes. i just love the way friendship is portrayed here.

what was not as good is luna and noct's relationship. there was not enough of luna. yes she loves noct but why? yes noct loves luna but why? luna literally appeared in the plot for two minutes and then tragically died. i think it's really bad. also imagine not seeing your bride for 12 years, when you finally meet her again she immediately dies, then you spend 10 years trapped in a crystal, fucking die and then get to marry your bride. honey it's been 22 years since i last talked to you in person. i'm NOT marrying a random woman in the afterlife (no hate for luna, just this love story didn't seem convincing enough). hopefully i'm gonna see what they wrote in the dawn of the future soon (please pray so that my amazon package doesn't get lost 🙏)

the music is incredible. the woman who wrote the soundtrack is my goddess and i am a devout worshipper 🙏🙏🙏

so, why is the game a mystery to me? because no other game could make me endure 75 hours of boring side quests. i managed to play hogwarts legacy for 44 hours and i despised that game when i finished it. i despised it long before i finished it. but not ffxv. they could make me do all this boring stuff again and i would do it (not for free tho because i've got better things to do with my time 🤣)

i enjoyed ffxv a lot. it also made me depressed for a week because ending a game like that should be a crime. i think i'm gonna do a few last quests after that but there's not much left (and i'm not looking for more because if i think i am done then i am done). not sure how long episodes gladiolus, prompto and ignis are gonna take, but they're also in my plans (no ardyn tho, gotta go watch some playthrough). there's also anime and a film so plenty of content for me. and i am waiting for the arrival of my book 🫡

(noticed that there's nothing about the combat. well it's because i don't care. i don't like combat. i don't like it in any game. i prefer to flee)

#ffxv #final fantasy #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv

[alexissara]

My Favorite Movies/TV/Anime of 2023

Going into 2023 I've done a lot more taking in art then in previous years and this section is all about the audio/visual/auditory art I've taken in this year and enjoyed. In fact it's a content and clickable top 10 list! Wow so engaging, much content, please enjoy. This is gonna be inclusive of movies, cartoons, anime, TV shows, etc because I don't engage any one of these mediums alone enough to make a nice little list, at least not this year.

These are roughly in an order by how much I enjoyed them but these are different pieces of art that hit you in different places for different reasons and no one piece of art here is like "Better" than the other. Ask me at a different hour let alone day and this list could be all scrambled.

Adolescence Of Utena

So I finally watched some Utena, I mean I watched a little but of Utena before, just a few episodes with some friends but I watched the full ass movie now so that counts for something. The anime is really artful and it's a very compelling queer coming of age story with all the messy trauma and feelings attached. It's a weird movie, a girl turns into a car, and that's amazing, 12/10, another girl can also turn into a car, we're really just living the dream here. Finally true lesbian representation is when a girl can turn into a car and I am here for it. It's a really great piece of art and I am glad to have finally got to take it in and enjoy it.

Glass Onion

So this is probably the biggest surprise on the list for folks who follow me but one of my girlfriends really loves mysteries and so a Glass Onion I did watch with her. It's super funny and fun, it's just good. The cast has good chemistry, the jokes land, the mystery has fun twists, and it's just a good experience overall.

One Piece Film Red

I am not a One Piece fan, I do not care for One Piece, It's like fine Shonen. However, this movie fucking slapped, it was a good fucking time. Uta is One Pieces best character and she should show up and take over the final arc of the manga because she is so good. The music was fucking killer with Ado slaying every single fucking song and it really just hit. Every song is so good on it's own and in it's context. It's what you want from a truly killer musical experience and every song being from "the villain" is just extra fun. The power of friendship and bounds is really great here, it's just good and well animated even if the women all have the same exact body.

Everything, Everywhere, All At Once

I finally watched this movie after all the hype had died down and well, it was worth the hype, it isn't my favorite movie of all time but it's a good movie. It's funny, amazingly acted, well shot, silly and just in general a good time. It touches on a lot of good themes of family, trauma, homophobia, expectations, and parental relationships. I think the queerness coulda been better in the movie and have complaints on how that is displayed here but I mean it was at least a little bit queer and that's more than most movies. As a former actor who really loves the craft I envy everyone involved too for getting to be in such a fun film, I can only imagine what a blast it was to see the final product of what I am sure was a ton of hard work to make something so fun.

Gundam The Witch From Mercury - Season 2 

Gundam ended on more of a whimper than a bang to me. Which is both not uncommon for a Gundam series to have a shitty ending but also not shocking given this series was given it had a much shorter run time. Regardless of me thinking this half of the anime is much weaker than the first half it still undeniably striking in it's animation, stunning visually, engaging to watch with a cast of very endearing characters to watch in the dramatic stakes of it all. The very end was not terrible but the time we spent to get to the final epilogue moments were questionable. Regardless, this show did not kill off Prospera, Chuchu, Secelia or Rouhi and they all were in a lot of these episodes so like an 8/10 cuz their all fucking brilliant and I really like Sulletta a ton too, I am just probably Mio's weakest solider among lesbians preferring my sweet little nervous lesbian settle down with a nice earthian girl or make use of her second hand to be polyamarous.

Kakegurui Twin

I never have and likely never will watch Kakegurui's main series but the twins series female focused cast and yuri energy captured my attention and so I turned it on. Wow, what a fucking ride. This over the top gambling game is Jojo's bizarre adventure, is sports anime, is card game anime, it's the raw spirit of these things radiating in the horny submissive lesbian factory and served back in animated form. The fucking faces these women get to make as they smugly battle in bounts of gambling is just so delicious and the tension they manage to put into each of these games of chance as the fucked up students try and cheat each other and win is just brilliant.

Harley Quinn 

HarIvy is a ship of all time for me, it's hard to have the concept of a show be "HarIvy comedy" and me not to at least kinda enjoy it and I enjoyed it a lot this new season. At the start of the season I wasn't click with it, it felt weird and forced for Harly and Ivy to be placed in these really binary hero and villain roles but in the end that's what it was really about. Neither of them are traditional heroes or villains and the show actually recognized that and let them trying to fit into the strict mold of the universe as an active issue for themself, their sense of self, their relationship, the world and more. From time to time they felt fairly out of character but I am just happy to see this arcs over all themes and the work they put into that.

I’m In Love With The Villainess 

While I would have rather had a tighter pace that went through the first two books of the series rather than one and some tiny jumps into the second book I'm In Love With The Villainess still managed to be one of my favorite things to watch this year with me viewing it multiple times. Rae's Isekai fantasy of being bullied by a hot rich woman and the eventual need to confront her own internalized homophobia and self pity as blocking her path to happiness are fun to see. Rae is really good in the anime adaptation and in it more than any other adaption it feels like everyone is friends and cares about each other which fits the light hearted comedy tone better than the light novels Rae will kill anyone for Clair, she has no friends mindset.

Scott Pilgrim: Takes Off

This was the biggest surprise of the year. I had grown out of Scott Pilgrim, while I was a fan of the comics before the movie was even a thing, I watched the movie before it even released, I even at some point was collecting the colored editions, I eventually soured on the series and sold everything I had of it. I wasn't excited about the anime and felt more like "let it go" then "OMG thing from when I was young" but hearing the good things I heard about it and about the Scott twist along with seeing the great animation in the OP I decided, fuck it why not give it a shot. So I did and wow, it's really good. It's a great take down, commentary, adaption, whatever it is of the original work. It is Scott Pilgrim having grown up alongside me, funnier than ever and a lot better about everything. I really loved all the changes and it still felt very true to the heart of Scott Pilgrim which is messy adults trying to fix their fucked up selves and relationships.

The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady

This certainly sits among my favorite anime of all time and very highly if not number one. MagiRevo mastered a light novel adaptations tempo perfecting how to make one season of what would be a nothing slow burn with no pay off at the novel and mangas pace into an exciting action packed yuri with more gay kisses in it than the rest of the years anime put together. It's funny, charming, fun but it also captures some really hard emotions too, I'll never forget the scene with Anis being pressured by old men to have children and stuff and the utter disgust she has at being treated like a piece of meat as she attempts to fill her role to the kingdom. It is devastating and heart wrenching and it just makes all the joy feel so strong.

If you want to help me enjoy more art then consider checking out my Patreon or Ko-fi and giving me a little bit of cash so I can do more of this kind of writing but also like make lots of my own art, art is hard to make and costs money and like maintain my chronically ill and trans body also takes money so anything helps, thank you. If you want more details on any of these I do have reviews for many of the pieces of art above but you can also let me know you want more and maybe I'll write more.

#the magical revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady #magirevo #yuri #yuri anime #scott pilgram takes off #scott pilgrim #glass onion #Utena #adolescence of utena #One Piece Film Red #everything everywhere all at once #Gwitch #gundam #gundam witch from mercury #gundam the witch from mercury #Kakegurui Twin #Harley Quinn #i'm in love with the villainess #iltv #2023 #Best Of 2023 #top 10 #Top 10 2023 #Anime 2023 #Shows 2023 #Movies 2023

[kwilooo]

Incoming long vent-ish post

This song kind of represents how I feel at the moment. With life. Everything’s gone to shit. Between the Ukraine and Gaza wars, kosa, and my family going through a rough time financially and mentally, I just can’t really get a grip on reality.

I can’t help but feel this constant feeling of anxiety in my stomach, with the stress of hours of homework, keeping up my grades, class registration, dealing with my family, my friends, and just the world in general, it all keeps me awake at night and I’ve been getting so little sleep. It’s really starting to affect me just in everyday life.

Speaking of everyday life, what has it gotten to? It seems like nobody has any fucking empathy left. My faith in humanity—while never being very highly to start with—is almost zero at this point.

Kosa -

I’m sorry if I’ve been talking about it a ton, but if this bill passes and we lose our access to platforms such as this, I, and many other minors, will lose places where we can have some sort of stable ground—where we can gain any sort of grip on reality.

To be truthful, I’m not entirely sure of exactly what this bill proposes and what it may do, and I’m really going off of rumors. I know that rumors are not trustworthy, but I do know that this bill is unconstitutional and violates our rights.

-

I’m running out of time, I’m running and my time’s up…

I truly feel like this. I feel hopeless. Limp. Like I can do anything but help. There is nothing I can do, truthfully. As a kid, there isn’t anything you can do to help. Whether it’s because of strict or overprotective parents, or just because nobody will believe you.

They don’t listen to you when you’re young. They think you know absolutely nothing. They think we’re dumb. They think everything they think they know is correct. In reality, they have no clue what we’re experiencing and what we need. Both parents and the government.

This has been a problem for years. We as a generation have been speaking out against so many things for years, but we were never heard. Climate change, genocide, etc. We were never listened to because we’re “too young to know anything”

“Kids these days”

Adults say that in recent times, kids spend more time online or inside than outside. This is true statistically, but there are more reasons for it than we are “addicted to those damn screens”

A lot of the reason is that due to current events such as the wars, politics, disease, and just society overall, kids (I’d say currently between the ages of 10-16) have been forced to grow up a lot faster. I know that there have obviously been worse times to be a kid, but in the last few decades, this is it.

We’ve grown up through the COVID pandemic, where everything was online. This also gave us more exposure to media and rising stars who gained popularity over social media.

And that’s another reason; our generation (Z-alpha but mainly the younger part of gen Z) has grown up with a lot more disposable media in their hands. Much of this disposable media is how influencers gained their popularity. A lot of kids strive to be like them because they want to have popularity to feel that little twinge of excitement to have attention.

With all the current events, much of adults focus have been on those and how to give themselves and their kids the best life, which then in return gives the kid little attention. A lot of minors crave attention and an audience, so they create an online presence for themselves that can hopefully help them gain that audience. That’s another reason for being on screens.

Lastly, with the rise of social and disposable media, comes the inevitable effect of image. People who show off their body could create dysmorphia in teens and kids. People who show their life and travel could create a sense of inferiority for kids with families that maybe can’t afford to travel as much.

All of this then leads to declining mental health, also attributed to comments that might be made by other kids about a hobby one might have. Or maybe about the clothes they’re wearing, the color their skin is, their heritage, their opinions.

This is why the US is so fucking corrupted. Nobody has empathy or sympathy. Nobody cares about anyone else’s views. Nobody ever stops to think about how their actions or words might affect others. I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s a real and important thing to realize.

Kids and teens these days need help, we need attention, we need support, we need to be stable.

We don’t need censorship, we don’t need war, all we ask for is awareness and peace.

Stop the war in Ukraine.

Stop the war in Gaza.

Stop Kosa.

Control climate change.

That is all we ask.

And with Kosa; if the rumors really are true, I want to thank everyone for making this platform an escape for me. I want to thank everyone for their amazing ideas and artwork and writing and awareness posts. I love you all so much.

I’m not going to tag anyone as this is quite a serious and personal post, but specific thank yous to my tumblr best friends, Alex, Doli, Nat, Panna (I believe?), Hibi, Lizzy, Jami, and Sophie. If you see this I’m sure you’ll know who you are ❤️

I’ve connected with some of you little, some quite a lot, some for a long time, and some for short, but I assure you that all of you have changed my life for the better.

This post has taken me two hours to write, so I hope it can do something for someone.

Thank you.

#personal #internet freedom

[cabbojage]

Please tell me about hot time is currency in your wip.

Sooo I'll start with some exposition: the setting of my wip, CLOCKED OUT, is the city of Klairva, which floats in the middle of the sky like a minecraft skywars island. Legend says that Klairva, along with a handful of other known cities, was pulled from the crust of the Earth by the hands of gods—in Klairva's case, this god is known as the Clockmaker, who dictates the passage of time. However, the Clockmaker has been dead for centuries, and left in his wake are the Cardinals: strange "magicians" who are half-human, half-monster and can warp time to their liking. Klairva has since fallen into an aristocracy where the wealthy Cardinals rule with an iron fist—controlling the masses with their only advantage, time itself.

Now for the actual currency part...

Upon birth, every citizen is issued a pocket watch. This watch constantly ticks, moving counterclockwise from the 1 o'clock position toward 12 o'clock. The position of the clock hands depends on the time in the user's bank; for instance, someone with a wealthy amount of time (100+ years) will see the time of their pocket watch as 1 o'clock—the farthest it can be from 12. Someone with a poor amount of time (<1 year) might see their watch as reading 12:15 or 12:10. Watches that strike 12:00 (when all 3 hands meet at 12) essentially represent someone who has run out of time, or in other words, someone who is "clocked out."

(note that most watches don't start ticking until 12 years after birth. from then on, the child must find their own source of income or receive support (e.g. parents transferring their own time to their children) to prevent being clocked out. the watches, as godly magical artifacts, are indestructible, and will always reappear within someone's general vicinity if they have been lost/discarded. in addition, the exact value of time one has left is printed on the watch's clock face—counting down in year/month/day/hour/minute/second form.)

The watch, which serves as a "bank," is also the medium of transactions. With no physical currency, transaction and business in Klairva works similarly to credit/debit cards of the modern age—an amount is willed forth, the two watches make contact, and the exchange is done.

But wait, you might be wondering, if you're a multi-millionaire in this world, couldn't you technically achieve immortality and NEVER run out of time?

Well... no. The thing is, the amount reading on the watch doesn't represent how long until you die; it's how long until you clock out. People can still die from disease, violence, etc. despite having centuries left on the watch, just like perfectly healthy people can clock out if the watch strikes 12. So it's quite common for the desperate to hold people at gunpoint and demand a year or two. Most rich would rather hand over the time than get a bullet through the skull.

So what happens to those who clock out? Basically no one knows. They just disappear. Known as the timeless or the twelve-struck in urban legends, the general consensus is that the Cardinals whisk them off to eternal hell, a realm with no happiness and constant torture, a fate worse than death. But of course, the actual fate of the timeless will be uncovered by my lovely characters throughout the course of the story ;)

I think I covered pretty much everything sfkslfslfkwkfl that was a lot! Honestly I'm very scared as to how I'm going to explain all of this in the actual novel without info-dumping like hell, but fuck it I'm just gonna try my best and worry about editing it later LMAO. thank u for reading this far if you did <3

#writeblr #writeblr community #worldbuilding #clocked out #wip: worldbuilding #writer community

[ro-botany]

@silque Hope you don't mind me pulling this into it's own post; it's a critical enough point that I really wanna expand on it.

For context for those who didn't read my recent longass post about Frederick in general: We're talking about the canonical age at which Emmeryn was crowned Exalt of Ylisse.

According to the numbers from Awakening Chapter 6, when Emm took the throne she was

NINE YEARS OLD

Maaaaaybe 10, at the most, if you stretch the meaning of "before her tenth year" a bit and play around with the exact date her dad died.

(To be clear, Frederick's age in that table is a headcanon, not canonical in any way)

You are making several excellent points and I'm Big Emotional about all of them, so naturally, I'm going to take four miles of post length to screech about this in more detail.

It is fucking wild to me that the game breezes by the war timeline and the ages of the royal kids so fast. To the point where I straight up missed it! Or forgot, I guess, in the years since my last full playthrough.

I just. I have to set the scene.

Ylisse has just been through an unfathomably bloody holy war. Almost anyone of fighting age was given a weapon and dragged to the desert to fight, leaving behind a halidom populated almost exclusively by children and the elderly, with a dwindling food supply. A country driven into desperation and chaos by its own ruler.

We don't know how the Exalt dies--if his own men turned mutiny or he was routed by Plegian forces or what--but the Exalt does die, and the war dies with him. When the news from the front finally trickles back to Ylisstol alongside what few broken men and women survived the violence, the oldest person of exalted blood is duty-bound to take his former place on the throne.

Overnight, nine-year old Emmeryn goes from playing with her baby brother and awaiting the day her baby sister is born, to being crowned Exalt of a dying country and a shattered populace that now turns all their hurt and ire onto her.

She has her council of old, withered politicians to guide her hand. She has the castle guards--all either old enough to be her grandparents or young enough to be her peers--to protect her from the worst of the violence. She has her mother, too--until one day, too soon, she doesn't.

The game certainly doesn't gloss over the tragedy of that. It neglects to emphasize the ages these kids were dealing with all this at, though. I could tangent off into another 500-1000 words about how fucked that family situation is if I chose to and the unique ways that has played into the characterization of everybody involved. That Emmeryn grew up to be as competent and well-loved a ruler as she did is a monumental feat, not only on her part, but on the parts of the people who supported and raised her.

And to bring it back to the man of the hour on this blog… At some point, Frederick became one of those people. He's been looking after Chrom and Lissa for who even knows how long; there is no doubt in my mind that, like tumblr user silque suggested, Frederick also helped look after Emmeryn. Helped her and her siblings make whatever sense of the ongoing tragedies they could, while probably dealing with a mountain of issues of his own.

He's something at the nexus between older brother, father, bodyguard to all of them. He's been by their side, a constant rock, since all four of them were arguably children. Frederick doesn't let his guard down for a second. He sees the weight on the shoulders of these kids, and he knows helping them bear it is the best thing he can do to help the people starving in his village and every other like it, or to help avert this war, or end that war swiftly. He devotes himself to this duty so utterly that he's practically killing himself from stress and overwork. Always watching for the wolf in the shadows, that Emmeryn and Chrom and Lissa might be able to avoid the fangs and continue being the beacons the halidom needs them to be.

Even when they're at peace, the eyes at the edge of the firelight are all he can see. It confuses Chrom and Lissa; and that's how he knows he's doing his job correctly.

And this relationship between Frederick and the royal siblings.

Is reduced to jokes about pebble-clearing and overzealous recruitment posters a solid 80% of the time.

I JUST.

I want to clarify that these games being goofy and silly and over the top as often as they are is one of their draws, and that I do enjoy how just, cartoonishly cautious Frederick can be. I love the jokes. I am that guy who played the Before Awakening DLC in Fates literally 128 times to max out the pebble joke weapon. In no world do I think we need to wholly kill comedy here.

But at the same time I can't help but be blown away by how often the heart in this relationship is neglected in favour of comedy. The second you start thinking about how Frederick got where he is and why he is the way he is, there is just, SO much there.

It's of dubious canonicity at best, but I want you to read the conversations that Chrom and Frederick have with Emmeryn during her recruitment paralogue. I want you to notice how Chrom, though clearly emotional, is capable of putting his emotions aside, and opts to focus on keeping her safe rather than indulging in his grief, which he knows would only confuse her.

And then I want you to notice how Frederick, stoic, icy Frederick, breaks down. A paragraph of two years of repressed grief comes tumbling out all at once to a woman who, ultimately, is only a ghost of the person he knew. He begs her forgiveness. He cannot, cannot think clearly or objectively in this moment. He hurts too deeply. He cares too much.

The so-called Cold Lieutenant of the Shepherds cares so deeply and self-sacrificingly about everyone and it can be really damn funny, or utterly heart-melting, or utterly heart-breaking depending on the situation and how you play it. AND YET. THE SIDE CHARACTER CURSE. The most genuinely they ever play this bond is in a side chapter that isn't even canon.

How do I end this post.

I am inconsolable for SEVERAL REASONS.

#fe awakening #frederick #emmeryn #chrom #lissa #long post #i continue to be allergic to brevity #like half of this is being stunned by the immense childhood trauma the ylissean royal sibs went through #and the other half is weeping over how fred's side character curse interacts with that #there's barely a coherent point to this #i made the mistake of listening to divine decree and then saw that reply and got riled #and when i get riled i vomit 1000 words out and then collapse

[ghostussy]

Copia x Reader

Copia comforts a young reader who has been diagnosed with anxiety, PTSD and depression. Don't @ me yes I'm projecting. It's 5.30 am and I have to get up soon and I've slept three hours, been up since 2 😭😭😭👍 I need something to keep me going ig aufh

not beta read, written on mobile adnanssnd

TW: Depictions of mental illness. Trauma mentions. Medication/pills mention.

Sitting on the edge of your bed looking at the white sheet of paper, you tried not to cry. The words stared back at you, the looming threat of a diagnosis you'd chased for years crawling down your throat. The shame of seeing your birth name, being marked as the wrong gender on your medical documents.

Main st. Resource Center

Patient: [name], aged 19, female

Diagnosis: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder (GAD)

Appointment notes: Return in one month to discuss labs and new medication.

You sigh deeply, looking at the prescription bottle in your other hand. Lexapro, 10 mg., it read.

It takes all the self control in your body not to hurl the medication across the room, to watch the lid pop off with force, sending pills scattering across the room.

Your hands shake as you set the paper down on your nightstand, the medication bottle with it. You bury your face in your hands, tears threatening to spill; but you resist the urge. You have no tears left to cry. There is nothing left to mourn.

You felt so irreparably broken.

You'd spent years dreaming about this day. The day you finally got help. The day you finally felt safe. You should feel relieved, overjoyed, something. But you weren't.

You don't remember the drive home. You'd been on autopilot, taking roads you knew well, playing your favorite songs quietly on the radio. But you didn't sing along. How could you?

You were scared. Still are. What nineteen year old gets diagnosed with so many mental illnesses? Barely old enough to vote, too young to drink; and still, completely and totally fucked from the start.

It was frustrating. All the shit you went through- the deaths, the funerals, the accidents, the trauma- but you were traumatized long before any of that even occurred. No, your PTSD was caused by the only people sworn to protect you; your very own parents.

Years of emotional and physical abuse left you scarred. Afraid. Panic attacks constantly crawling up your back, a looming threat that never seemed to leave. Flashbacks that would leave you frozen in place, a cruel reminder of what happened. Nightmares that have you waking in a panic, the dream fading quickly but the pain lingering for long after.

You don't know what to do.

You flinch when your bedroom door is thrown open without so much as a knock, Copia walking in. "Ah, sorella, there you are. How- oh, dolcezza... what is the matter?" The bed dips next to you as he takes a seat, his voice soft and gentle. "Did the appointment not go as you'd hoped?"

You pass him the paper, which he reads quickly. His face softens. "What did they prescribe for you?" You pass him the bottle, and he takes it gingerly in his hands. "Ah... Lexapro..." he murmurs softly. "Si, I am familiar with this one. I take it myself." Your eyes slicker upwards, and he meets your gaze as he returns the bottle to you. "You have nothing to fear. It will take some getting used to. You will struggle to rest for a little while, but do not worry. I will be here to lull you to sleep." He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him as he kisses the top of your head.

"You will be okay, tesoro. This I can promise."

#drabbles #copia x reader #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #tw: ptsd

[bucknastysbabe]

Untold

Boom bap skapoom ddededede lemme just drop this bad boy off at the park and run away. Reread fire and blood and wanted to experiment with that fake biography style which I’m not very good at but it was fun SKIDIBOP mmdada BOOM

Rating: General

Tags: Period typical assholery, lots of death, angsty, turNCLOAKS?!, Aegon is on Douchebag Hours until he got fucked the fuck up, targ princess reader, incest, Cregan said hol up we don’t play like that in The Fookin North

“House Rowan has been taken by Lord Ormund and Prince Daeron,” said the kinslayer. The maester with him wrote of Aegon’s hitched noise and lidded eyes opening with a snap.

The haggard Aegon stared at his brother, face puffy and eyes glazed from the milk of the poppy. He rarely was awake in his recovery. Prince Aemond figured their youngest sister’s safety would raise the twisted king’s spirits. Aegon had mumbled, “Get her to the…Keep.” He soon after returned to the world of sleep— exhausted from the mere act of eating.

In True Telling, Munkun writes that the arrival of princess would guarantee to distract Aegon more if he ever got well. Not to mention her priceless dragon Merigar, waiting in the Dragonpit. Her Rowan in-laws declared themselves Black until Daeron routed Lord Thaddeus. The Prince regent Aemond was very keen to get the young woman back in the walls of King’s Landing.

The princess later was watched by all, silent tears streaming down pale cheeks as her husband was put to the sword. She was merely 7 and 10 and married for a scarce year. No child was born of the union, much to the happiness of the greens. Especially the ailing Aegon, who had requested for her to stay by his side. The tale of the ‘little princess’ and King Aegon was of a bleak nature, like many others during the Dance.

From a young age she had always been known to bear love for her eldest brother. Even when the rest of their siblings avoided the wayward Prince like the red plague. She followed Aegon around, a pale specter at his heels. That love had long grown strained and non-existent before the Dance. Prince Aegon had settled into his debaucherous ways— drunken binges and periods spent off in Flea Bottom.

Aegon did not engage with her as much, likely discarded the princess for hedonism. Her personal journal stated she received nothing but apathy and slurred condescension when they interacted. Bitterness filled the younger’s heart and after she sought refuge either on her smoky dragon Merigar or a court favorite. Whispers circled around the keep about Aegon not being the only sibling to have a healthy, lustful appetite.

The jester Mushroom wrote that the young princess, fueled by Aegon’s rejection, turned to carnal desires to draw his attention. He claimed she had a retainer of comely knights, daring whoever could climb to her chambers could seize her maidenhead. Grand Maester Munkun disparages that, illustrating the girl was fond of the male gaze but remained chaste. All accounts at the time do mention the public schism between Aegon and his once favorite sibling.

When the striking girl was publicly engaged to the handsome Braxton Rowan in late 127 AC, approval rounded the court. It was a happy time for all, the birth of Prince Maelor had occurred a month beforehand. King Viserys, largely crippled, hastened the wedding on fears of expiring too soon.

Prince Aegon was not of a jovial spirit on the day of the betrothal. He slouched in the throne room with a sullen pout, leaving immediately afterward. The Prince by all reports proceeded to get irrationally intoxicated and escorted from supper by twins Cargyll of the Kingsguard. Ser Criston Cole wrote in concern to Septon Eustace on the occasion.

“I fear for our princess after Aegon’s behavior. You must pray that she will be looked after by the Maiden. He was wrought with jealousy, slamming cups and yelling like a child in the midst of a tantrum. The prince must be kept away lest he seek to claim her before the wedding.”

No other mention was made of the two interacting until the night before the ceremony. Lord Thaddeus Rowan and his retainer had arrived that morning. Comely Prince Daeron had made an appearance with Lord Ormund and his she-dragon Tessarion close behind.

Queen Alicent was said to be overwhelmed with tears, joyous at all of her children together. Eustace somberly notes that it would be the last time she would have the sight. King Viserys was resting in his solar during the reunion, Maester Orwyle tending to the King before the festivities.

Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon remained on Dragonstone with their offspring, an obvious slight.

The young lord Braxton Rowan was handsome in the colors of Goldengrove, strapping and tall with blue eyes and thick brown locks. The little princess was smitten, blushing when the heir dropped to a knee and kissed her hand. Lord Thaddeus proudly boasted that he had never seen his eldest son so lovestruck. Most could see why, the princess was silver and slim. She had taken after her mothers side— willowy and statuesque in appearance. Her and Prince Aemond were similar in that way.

Supper in the keep happened to be a less joyful event. Prince Aegon had joined in the toast to the soon-to-be wed couple. He drawled, “To my lovely sister and her betrothed, I hope she may find joy in an otherwise banal man and his meager lands.” The princess burst into tears, Lord Thaddeus and his sons had to be restrained. Prince Aemond shoved his brother back into his chair with a sharp look. In a fit Queen Alicent excused her drunken son, fretfully apologizing to the angered Rowan clan. Peace was restored in quick succession after.

Accounts are hazy on the occurence at the hour of the Wolf. Two things were consistent in Grand Maester Munkun’s and Septon Eustace’s books. Mushroom will be excluded as his tale was outlandish and inconsistent. One, that Aegon and the little princess did get caught in the godswood by Ser Criston Cole. Two being she had raked her nails bloody across his cheek, stating to Cole that she made a mistake.

Aegon wept during the wedding, disappearing after her red and black Targaryen maiden’s cloak was replaced with the gold and silver of Rowan. The princess smiled and shined for all to see in the meantime. She was cheerful and danced through the night, laughing even during the ribald bedding ceremony. The Targaryen recounted the consummation as a ‘passionate affair’. Off she went to Goldengrove, where Lord Braxton doted on his new wife. Plans were in progress to build a place for the handsome Merigar.

Most were sure the princess was for Rhaenyra; there are multiple records of her openly voicing that her elder brother was unfit for the Iron throne. Eustace with his known dislike for the half-year queen left the Princess out of the Rowan’s claim for the Blacks. When Daeron met with her, she cried and beseeched the Daring to spare her husband and good-father.

Upon her return to King’s Landing, Prince Aemond kept a tight leash on his sister, disallowing her to leave the keep. She was miserable. The girl cried in Aegon’s chambers or the godswood. Mushroom had even tried to lift her spirits, claiming the princess threatened to feed the jester to her dragon. Aemond complained of her dour mood to the Dowager Queen.

While Helaena descended into madness, the other grew hateful. She hissed and threatened to strangle Aegon in his poppy-aided sleep if she had to stay by his side any longer. Merigar felt his rider’s misery, killing two dragon-keepers in a fit of rage. She scrawled down in her diary, “I crave death. I hate him so and yet.”

During the fall of King’s Landing, the princess was given a good deal by Rhaenyra. Ride for the blacks and she would be pardoned on behalf of her ‘green blood’. The little princess swore fealty immediately. Upon hearing the news at Harrenhal, Aemond, already angered by the loss of King’s Landing denounced his blood with a snarl. Queen Alicent did not speak to her youngest daughter for the entire period of Rhaenyra’s rule.

The widow expressed doubts in her journal, fearing she was unable to actually kill any of her blood. She never got the chance to do that. The series of deaths during the half-year rocked the girl. She spent more time with her dragon than with humans after Daeron was reported to have perished at Tumbleton. In her cups, she lamented to many, “I fear I may never smile again.” True Telling mentions that the embittered woman kept quite true to her word.

Rhaenyra felt the growing dread in her half-sister and became uneasy. She was paranoid of turncloaks, especially after Addam Velaryon was questioned. Rhaenyra sent her dragonback on a fool’s errand to the Reach for aid at Highgarden. Dangerously she would be passing where the green army lie in disarray. Merigar and his princess flew North instead.

Sightings of the smoke colored dragon came as far as Last Hearth. Aemond and Daemon held their last battle, Rhaenyra too overcome with the unrest in King’s Landing to do anything about her sister’s disappearance. The princess grew gaunt and grey in the North, the life sapped from her bones. She supped with the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch before returning to King’s Landing.

Lord Commander Brune wrote in his memoirs, “She was exceptionally kind and forged of steel under her thin skin. I was baffled when she climbed on that black beast of hers and called down, “Valar Morghulis.” It was one of the stranger days on my watch.”

No one truly learned why the princess came out of isolation. She stopped writing in her journal after visiting the Wall. Orwyle theorized that she was growing mad, Mushroom shared a bawdy idea, Eustace and Munkun simply think the Valyrian was tired and missed home.

Home was much different now back under the reign of Aegon the Elder, rendered shattered and volatile. He was still mourning the loss of the golden Sunfyre. The city watch and small folk grew frenzied and nervous when the shadow of Merigar flew over the city. Multiple riots had to be put down around Flea Bottom. Construction on the Dragonpit was halted for atleast a fortnight.

She landed her mount in the outer yard of the Red Keep, falling off in exhaustion and obvious starvation. The princess slept for two days. King Aegon fretted over her health, having grown regretful and somber in regards to his sad life. Remarkably, Dowager Queen Alicent was found by her side. Upon awakening the princess dryly remarked, “I think I shall stay now.” The green queen wept and wrenched her hands.

The princess kept out of the rampant politics ensuing the rest of Aegon II’s reign. She remained without an opinion, oft apologizing to Lord Corlys. The king and his sister reconciled— likely from isolation and shared misery. They drank and reminisced on better times late into the night. She helped her brother plan his marriage to the Baratheon girl.

In the Testimony of Mushroom, there is a tale that may have an element of truth to it. The king and his sister were inseparable the last months of his reign. She was noted to stay in his bed at night, Alicent trying her hardest to keep that under lock and key. Mushroom claimed that Aegon the Elder had been regularly viewing his sister pleasure herself with a variety of wooden toys imported from Lys, him unable to copulate due to his broken body.

While the extent may not be that lewd, Septon Eustace did make a vague mention in his notes about Aegon hinting at instead marrying his sister, now nine and ten years of age. Nothing ever came to fruition as the king was poisoned in his litter. Immediately the ever present princess was questioned and thrown into Maegor’s holdfast.

She denied having involvement, stating blankly that her brother was the last person in her life that mattered. The interrogations could not find any proof and she fell into a catatonic state. The lack of involvement on the princess’ behalf is what sealed her fate. At the hour of the Wolf, Cregan Stark declared her a traitor to Rhaenyra and her heirs for choosing to become ‘a concubine for the thrice-damned drunken cur’.

She was executed by the Lord of Winterfell himself. Her last words are the subject of question. The teenaged girl sighed, “If only.” Merigar thrashed and broke from his chains concurrently during that fatal swing of Ice, escaping into the skies. The proud dragon was never to be seen again. Thus ended the ever shifting life of the little princess.

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