#Any brave volunteers?

[forbiddenfaerieland]

M!A Phiana's tiddys are 25% bigger, but she's hyper aware one is slightly larger than the other but can't tell which

Oh! W3ll that's n3w… | can't h3lp but f33l l|k3 som3th|ng's off…

Looks l|k3 | m|ght n33Đ 3nl|st som3 h3lp |nv3st|gat|ng what 3xactly though~

Ar3 th3r3 any volunt33rs~?

#Phiana Whispers #Asks Answered #Anonymous Answers #SHe might need a hand here #Any brave volunteers? #Also yes good more M!Anons #I become stronger with each one

[willowcrowned]

Joy

one time I got into a fifteen minute argument with my AP French teacher junior year of high school because she’d asked us about life changing experiences and I said that that morning I’d been alone in a little courtyard and watched a tiny bird fly out of a bush into the brightening sky and and breathed in real deep and started to think I might be able to remember how to want to live again, and she said it didn’t count because I wouldn’t even remember seeing the bird fly out of a bush three days later but the joke is on her because I’m still pissed about that argument years after

#not joking she was one of the worst people I’ve ever met #like. i try to believe that most people actively want to do good #even if they’re very very flawed in the way they try to achieve it #but I spent fifty minutes with her every morning for months #and I never saw a single act of kindness from her #meanwhile she took everyday courtesies and made herself a hero when telling us about them #she spent twenty five minutes of every lesson talking about hersel #in English too! not in French!! #one time she monologued to the two of us about how brave and selfless she had been in 1998 to volunteer at a hospital #where people were dying of aids #and tried to convince two queer kids #one of whom had parents who would have actively kicked her out if they’d known! #how serious the plight of ‘the gays’ is #anyways #she was self obsessed and tone deaf and a worshipper of any rule that let her take out her petty frustrations on teenagers #and the only kind things she ever did were in front of her superiors #who would compliment her for it #ask game replies #sigh #I’m being unfair to her I’m sure in her own way she did really mean to help people #but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t an awful teacher and a cruel self interested person

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

There is a special place in hell for all the people behind these bot attacks that harm AO3 and the communities we built.

A reminder that Archive of Our Own is not Instagram or TikTok. It isn’t run by a big company with money and power. The site is a non-profit site run by volunteers (fans), for fans. And its main purpose is to bring people within the same fandom together and connect artists with audiences who would love and appreciate these artists’ works. It’s the only platform without any ads, without any censorship, without any of these capitalism bullshit. It doesn’t make users pay for any features and the only source of money they get, to keep the site up and running, is through donations. It’s literally a safe place for every fandom.

To think that it’s a target just because it’s easier to attack than those huge companies is just so sad.

Not to mention that there are so many genuine guest users out there (people who aren’t logged in / don’t have an AO3 account), and these people are directly affected by this whole thing, because they are no longer able to comment and connect with their favorite creators — and this still affects creators directly because I know for a fact that getting comments and being able to connect with their audience mean the world to them. I don’t blame AO3 for disabling guest comments altogether.

I do blame and curse the fuckers behind these bot attacks though.

If you try to sabotage AO3, out of all the other platforms out there, you are pathetic. You’re not just attacking a small, independent company, you’re trying to tear apart people’s communities and safe place. Disrespectfully, fuck you. Burn in hell.

Mad respect to all the brave soldiers that are AO3 volunteers who work harder than god fighting these scums.

I know these brave soldiers will win in the end (they always did, this isn’t their first battle, mind you), but in the meantime I’m sending them all my love and respect. They truly are the heroes.

#ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 appreciation post #writing #writer #writers #writeblr #writing challange #writing community #fandom #fandoms #blorbo #comfort character #fanfic #whump #angst #fanfiction #writers on ao3 #fanfic writer #fanfic writing #fanfic writers #whumpblr #whump community

[bruciemilf]

Having so many de aged! Jason feelings. I might just burst.

Dick and Tim theorize on how a small, happy little baby winded up in Jason's apartment. It's no secret their brother, a wall of bulk with a tender core, houses the homeless sometimes.

Maybe the baby is someone's? But if so, why was he alone? Jason isn't exactly famous for his unquestionable wisdom, but he's too caring to leave a defenceless infant by himself.

More importantly, why is this baby rolling on his tummy on a familiar brown jacket, evidently craving to be picked up?

"Can you take him? I'm not..." Tim's not good with kids; It's a running joke among them. Even If there's nothing comical about this.

Dick nods. His pride does swell when the baby giggles and coos.

"He has good taste."

" Okay, Narcissus. Let's take him home before your head pops,'' was Tim just a tiny bit jealous this little chubby cheeked thing was snuggling close to Dick, while downright glowering at him?

Maybe. A little. But babies were glorified chunks of meat, shaped just enough like a human to be considered cute. What did they know?

So they get home. It's a pleasant rarity, but they're all in one place.

All except Bruce, of course. Too busy bleeding on the streets to spend any time with them, Dick huffs,

Poor Damian is trying to jump and leap amongst them giants, struggling to take a peek at their young guest, " Grayson! I want the baby!"

" He's not a toy, Dami," they all share a silent look, clearly thinking the same thing. He got it from Bruce,

"What does it do?"

" He's a baby, Steph. He's not even aware he exists!"

" God I wish that were me,"

Duke looks at Babybird, as Dick affectionately took to calling him, with a strange, quizzical look, " He looks familiar. You said you found him at Jay's?"

" Yeah, but I'm taking him to a firestation. I just had to show B. You know he likes volunteering at daycares. Maybe he'll recognize him."

" Recognize who?"

Babybird was chewing on his own foot when the elevator doors slid open. Cass wasn't a wordsmith.

She read movements and actions as one listens to music.

Every member of her beloved family was a song of their own; Dick was motivational and calming.

Stephanie was packed with action, brimming with electrifying energy that just made you want to jump.

Tim was clean and precise with accents of pop. Duke was light and happy and silently confident. Damian was angry, and passionate and brave.

Bruce was powerful, sad, and perfectly tragic.

But when Babybird shrieked, yelled out in happiness and excitement and tried to wiggle out of Dick's arms with a sunshine beam and grabby hands?

Her father was a love song.

"Jay," The name sounds like Bruce is choking. His eyes are burning with tears, marching directly to Dick, " Jay? Jay!"

" Wh--"

"Dada!" Babybird, -- Jason? They only now noticed the white curl bouncing on top of his head, ( their inner detectives groan) " Dadadada, pap papi pap,"

They can't do anything, frozen in place, as Bruce spends the following two hours planting a garden of kisses on Jason's cheeks, full with laughter, while they read and color and build blocks.

"Uh, Bruce? I'm...I'm gonna call Zatanna."

" In a minute."

" DAD, --"

" In a minute."

It wasn't just a minute. It was an entire week.

As ridiculous as it was? They were starting to get jealous.

#bruce wayne #de aged #baby jason todd #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #batfamily #batfam #fluff #dc #dc comics #damian very quickly demanding jon to learn how to de age ppl #'baba barely knows we exist anymore! he only cares about that underbaked toddler!' #'dami. try to ask yourself #what would nightwing do?' '' grayson wants to leave him at a nun house!'' #bruce ofc babies them as well after dick and damian call him out on it. they get baby jason is the most adorable thing on earth #but they need kisses too damn it!

[whore-era]

glue

☁︎ mean!ellie williams x fem!reader ☁︎ themes: grumpy x sunshine trope, reader chasing after ellie ☁︎ summary: in which jackson's sweetest girl crushes on the town's grumpy asshole. ☁︎ a/n: loosely inspired by the cartoon 'puca puca' lmao, hope yall luv this one ♡ ☁︎ word count: 6,883

spring was coming in swiftly, and you couldn’t be more excited. the snow was beginning to melt, and the town was experiencing small spouts of rain, kickstarting the bloom of some of the most beautiful flowers in the surrounding forest. 

it finally gave you a reason to take out your spring-wear and put your thick and heavy winter coats away in the back of your closet. fashion and clothing was a hobby you found yourself engrossed in, taking the time to carefully curate bright outfits and sew together your own unique pieces, utilizing whatever scraps of fabric you could get your hands on. it certainly took your mind off the reality of what went on behind these walls, a responsibility you could never imagine partaking in. everyone in town held those who went on patrol on high pedestals, thanking them for their brave service of facing those monstrosities and protecting us every day. 

thankfully, maria assigned you the responsibility of the town’s animal caretaker. tenderly providing the animals with food, care, and love. it was a job you absolutely dreamed of, always having a deep fondness for animals, even since you were a small child. 

“oh, jeez, minnie, i think you’re about ready to almost pop,” you mutter, feeding straws of hay to minnie, the beautiful, big, brown cow. she was one of two cows you had on the farm and was currently pregnant, ready to give birth to a cute, little calf. 

minnie doesn’t say anything, and chews on the grain instead. but you like to think that minnie understands your shared conversations, and often expresses her opinions in little ‘moos’. it was either that, or you were actually going insane.

“i think we’ll name your baby….buttercup,” you suggest, rubbing minnie’s ears, “doesn’t that sound lovely, minnie?” and she lets out a little snort, inciting a small smile from you.

checking your wristwatch, your eyes widen. “oops, almost time for patrol. i’ll be back later, sweet lady,” you say as you give minnie’s nose a gentle rub. getting up on your feet, you go to the sink and wash your hands, drying them and using another rag to wipe off any dirt or debris from your light blue overalls. 

this was your usual routine. waking up bright and early, heading to the barn to feed the animals, and making sure they have enough water and are groomed. then, you head over to the stables and help the other stableboys get the horses ready for patrol. yeah, the horses were absolute cuties, but a huge part of the reason you volunteered to go to the stables was so you could see ellie williams before patrol. 

ellie williams was a dream. a dream you’ve been wishing for since you were 13 years old. you were enamored with how fearless she was. she was famous in town for her journey with joel, and what the duo survived out in the open world — causing everyone to heavily praise the two, and think of them in high regard. but you could see there was more to her than meets the eye. yeah, sure, she was a little rough around the edges, but who wasn’t after seeing what she experienced? ellie was usually quiet, and reserved, mostly keeping to herself and her close friends and family. 

the younger folks in jackson think ellie was an ass and a big ole’ grouch. always having a grimace gracing her face or a ‘resting bitch face’ that’d intimidate even the most dangerous of bloaters. but those accusations never startled you.

over the years you’ve tried to get closer to ellie, going out of your way to give her gifts and cooking foods you know she likes. it was your way of helping ellie feel better and relax after a stressful day of patrol, and it was the least you could do. sometimes ellie would get a teensy bit annoyed with you, and would occasionally tell you to tone it down, but you just blamed it on her exhaustion due to patrol.

as you brushed shimmer’s mane, you picked up some baby’s breath that bloomed in your mother's garden and began to tuck it into the creases of the braid you were creating.

“do you feel beautiful, shim?” you ask her, “‘cause you look beautiful.” you giggle, rubbing her nose.

putting down the small pail you used to hold the flowers in, your eyes shift to the exit, raking them over the brunette a few feet away from you. your heart flips in your chest, and you let out a small sigh, fawning over her — ellie williams. 

everything moved in a slow, fluid motion as she turned and headed in your direction. it was like a spotlight was shining right at her, following her every movement. you could only imagine how it’d be to have the privilege of being ellie’s girlfriend, to hold her hand, to kiss her goodbye, to nuzzle into her body during those cold winters. it was a fantasy only your diary had the pleasure of holding. 

there was only one girl in this entire town who held the reputation of being ellie’s girlfriend, well, ex-girlfriend. it was dina woodward. they dated for a brief six months, before splitting up and continuing a civil friendship. you weren’t sure what the real reason was for their breakup, but rumors say they ended things because ellie was a terrible partner, never doing anything ‘romantic’ for her or showing any real affection towards her. others say they only got together because they were fooling around when they were out during patrol, and when word of it got out, they thought they’d might as well be together to save face.

but rumors were just rumors and you were never the type of person to believe such things unless they came from the actual source.

your body reacted before your mind could, and before you knew it, you were jogging over towards ellie, throwing your arms around her neck, “good morning, ellie!!”

ellie rolled her eyes, annoyed by the sudden physical contact and loud voice booming so early in the morning. she took hold of your hips, attempting to pry you off her, “alright, alright, that’s enough.”

pulling away and facing her, you smile sheepishly, “sorry, sorry— forgot you hated it when i got a little loud, especially before patrol.”

she huffed, crossing her arms in frustration. ellie knew you as the girl who had this puppy-sick crush on her the moment she arrived at jackson. as young tweens, you chased her around the school grounds, craving any bit of her attention and bothering her whenever the moment arose, like taking every open opportunity to be her partner during class or science experiments. you were the gum on the bottom of her boot, stuck and stubborn, never budging. 

but as the years progressed, she’s learned to tolerate you, thinking you’d eventually get tired of her somehow. giving up after the unreciprocated feelings and chasing after another unlucky fool.

“what happened to shimmer’s mane?” ellie questioned, poking at the flowers adorning the horse’s hair. 

“i braided some flowers in it,” you smile proudly, “she’s cute, huh?”

she nodded mindlessly, and leaned into shimmer’s ear, “i’ll take those off when we get outta here.” 

you made sure to grab the paper bag and held it out to ellie, “i made you lunch again. i left a little note in there, so make sure you read it, m’kay?” you smiled, nodding towards the bagged lunch. 

ellie apprehensively took the bag from your hands, and gave you a curt nod, “yea,” she murmured, “thanks.”

shoving the bag in her backpack, she took ahold of shimmer’s leads, guiding her out of the stables. but you gently touched her arm, “um, ellie.”

she turns slightly, “hm?”

“be safe out there, okay? i’ll be here, waiting for you,” you bite your lip, “and if something happens to you, i’ll— uh— come lookin’ for ya! and i’ll beat those uglies up!”

you smile widely, feeling a bit embarrassed by your word choice, but she got your message. with an awkward smile, she mutters “thanks.”

before she turns again, you move quickly and wrap your arms around her again, giving her a tight squeeze before pecking her on the cheek. a warm, rush of crimson fanned across her cheeks, turning her a bright, cherry red. 

“okay, okay! that’s enough,” ellie groans.

“sorry, sorry,” you pull off and quickly smooth out her clothes, but she just turns away and walks off with shimmer at full tilt. 

as ellie approaches beside jesse, he does a double-take and gawks at her, his curious eyes scanning the face of the girl next to him.

“wow, dude, you look like a tomato-” ellie cut him off.

“shut the fuck up, jess. just shut up.”

as much as you aggravated ellie, she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit to herself that you made her feel something. something she desperately wanted to despise. 

and if there was one thing that was true about her, it was that ellie williams was no liar. 

- 

after arriving at one of the checkpoints along the route, jesse and ellie tied their horses and settled at the abandoned fire lookout tower, taking a much-needed break.

ellie picked off the white florets from shimmer’s hair, letting the small flowers fall to the ground. 

“god, she put so many in here,” ellie muttered, irritated by how many little flowers tangled in the horse’s mane. jesse peered over at her, amusedly watching her peel off the petals and toss them over her shoulder. 

“she ‘do that?” jesse questioned, referring to you as he rummaged through the saddle bag of his horse.

ellie sighed, “yea.” 

“she did a pretty good job,” jesse smiled, “she’s nice for doin’ that.”

she huffed, rolling her eyes for the hundredth time today, “whatever,” she mutters, “shimmer is a brave and strong woman. this shit just makes her look— like a joke.”

the raven-haired boy shook his head in disagreement, “i just think you try to make yourself hate whatever she does.” 

ellie stopped to glare at him, “not true.” 

she didn’t care what you did. she just didn’t want you to involve your perky, bubbly nonsense in her business. ellie thought of you as the complete opposite of her, and being opposites, she couldn’t manage to be around you. you were sunshine, rainbows, puppies, bubbles, and an optimist. ellie was the moon, darkness, crows, horror movies, and a pessimist. two different things. two things that didn’t mix. 

“lies. you try to find every little thing wrong with her, but you can’t admit the truth. she’s the sweetest.” ellie tried her best to ignore the words coming from jesse’s mouth, but she couldn’t. it frustrated her how much he thought you affected her. it was simply false. 

sure, ellie tries to shake off the feeling of pride she gets when you look up at her with adoring eyes and call her ‘brave’ after a day out on patrol, and yeah, she tries to brush away the heat that rises to her face when she sees your face light up every morning when you first see her, but that’s because it doesn’t mean anything. the way ellie blushed rose red after you kissed her cheek this morning meant absolutely nothing. 

“she’s the nicest girl in town,” jesse goes on as the pair take a seat on the wooden steps of the tower, “and you’re being an asshole.”

“yeah, whatever. let’s eat.” ellie attempts to shift the conversation, feeling uneased about all this discussion of you. jesse shrugged, opening his pack and taking out a wrapped-up pack of bison jerky and an apple and took a crispy, juicy bite from the fruit.

ellie took out the paper bag, taking a minute to stare at the ‘for ellie :)’ written in black marker. unfolding the bag, she takes out a tupperware and opens the lid revealing a roasted turkey sandwich on a homemade french roll, freshly made potato chips, a small salad, and a little fruit tart on the side. she takes the small paper in her hand, reading the note you wrote for her:

let me know how you like the food! everything was made this morning and packed with love. be safe and have a great day ellie!

p.s you look pretty today :) 

xoxoxo

ellie suppressed the tiny flutters of butterflies floating in her stomach, blaming it on her evergrowing hunger, and crumpled the note, tossing it back in the paper bag. 

“woah, where’d you get that?” jesse said with a mouth full of jerky, “couldn’t bother to get me one?”

she rolled her eyes, “she always gives me lunch before patrol. you wanna share?” 

jesse shook his head at her offer, “nah, i’m good. don’t think your little housewife would be happy to hear you didn’t finish your food, ma’am,” jesse teased, letting out a chuckle. 

dragging out a groan, ellie closed her eyes before opening them again, “she’s not my— oh, fuck off.”

she chucked a chip at him, the crispy snack hitting him on the shoulder as he laughed again. 

there were a lot of things ellie’s didn’t like about you, but she had to admit, you were a damn good cook. 

-

the sunshine was something you’ve grown to appreciate during your time in jackson. as the winters can drag out for months, you took every opportunity to bask in the sun outside when the weather deemed it possible to do so. during the hotter months in town, you loved getting dressed in flowy dresses and letting the sun kiss your skin tan. it was a treat you and the rest of the people in town enjoyed, especially when everyone took their loved ones to the lake nearby and waded in the cool, fresh water.

after ellie left for patrol in the morning, the weather decided to look up and the sun beamed brighter in the clear, blue skies today, giving you the perfect chance to change out of your overalls and into a cute blouse with puffy sleeves and a pair of blue denim jean shorts. 

sitting on a bench perched outside the fence of the cow’s pen, you let yourself relax, soaking up the warmth radiating from the sunshine and occasionally taking sips from the ice, cold lemonade mrs. meyers made for the workers. 

your ears perked up at the bustling clanks of the main gates opening. sitting up and shielding your eyes from the sun, you take a look and see that ellie and jesse are back from patrol. jumping up in excitement, you set your drink down and sprint over to the stables, excited to see ellie again.

“ellie!” you yell out as she hops off her horse. with wide eyes, she hurriedly hides behind jesse, taking advantage of his taller height and wider build.

“cover for me.” ellie mutters to jesse. 

winded and breathing heavily from the run, you clutch your abdomen and catch your breath, “where’d ellie go? i just saw her.” 

jesse smirks, and ellie looks up at him. don’t you dare. don’t you dare. don’t you fucking dare. 

he steps aside, revealing ellie, hunched forward in a pathetic attempt to hide from you. 

“she’s right here.” jesse smiles, and walks away, staring at ellie as he leaves the both of you alone. 

ellie throws a quick glare his away, before standing up straight and clearing her throat, “hey— uh— i was just fixing my— uh..jacket.”

it was a wretched sight to see. ellie’s lame excuse for avoiding you. if it were anyone else, she’d have no problem telling them to ‘fuck off’ and to leave her alone. but with you, she didn’t have the guts to tell you she was avoiding you. why? she didn’t know. maybe she didn’t want to see your feelings hurt. 

but you were oblivious to this. it was a regular occurrence for you to miss things and let them go right over your head, but it was because you saw the good in everyone, even ellie. 

“how was patrol? see anything interesting?” you pondered to ellie, walking alongside her as she begin her trek back to her house. 

“nah, just the same old shit,” ellie speeds up her pace, and you struggle to keep up with her long legs, nearly stumbling over your own.

“so, uh, ellie,” you stammered, “i wanted to ask if you were doing anything tonight?” 

this was your corny way of asking her on a date, something you’ve been wanting to do for ages. 

“uh, yeah—” ellie scratched the back of her neck, “i’m real busy tonight.”

false. ellie’s evening consisted of smoking a joint and immersing herself in volume 14 of her favorite comic book. but she already knew, there was no telling what’d happen if she were to be alone with you. 

ellie strictly kept her distance from you and always made sure there were other people around you two while talking. it was her way of being in control. she was terrified of what would happen if her feelings were to rise to the surface and reign sovereignty over her. 

“oh okay,” you thought for a moment, “how about tomorrow night?”

“uhh, not available tomorrow either. sorry.” ellie avoided your gaze, instead letting her eyes fall to the ground, but to her inconvenience, her eyes gravitated to the sight of your bare legs underneath those shorts, only imagining what she’d do if she could feel the smooth skin under her fingertips. 

ellie pushed her thoughts to the side. this is what she didn’t want. she couldn’t let herself think these vile thoughts. she couldn’t let her guard down. she couldn’t allow herself to trust and be vulnerable. ellie had to control herself, doing whatever means necessary to keep you far, far away.

“hmph, okay. it’s fine,” you frown for a moment before forcing a smile on your face, “maybe another time.” 

“mhm, sure.” 

as you turn away and head in a different direction, ellie let her eyes watch you walk away, ignoring the tight squeeze in her heart that occurs every time you leave. she knew whatever she did, her feelings for you only grew, scaring her more than any clicker could. 

that evening, you prepared the farm animal's last meal for tonight and filled up their water basins. but you couldn’t focus, your mind distracted by that certain green-eyed girl. it was almost wearisome having these many feelings for one person, your mind consumed by her very existence, to the point where you couldn’t even focus on work. 

startling yourself, you feel the pointy straws of hay poking your legs as you overfilled minnie’s feeder. 

“ugh, minnie,” you groan, “ what the heck am i gonna do with ellie?” 

you grabbed the broom, and began sweeping the stray hay that fell onto the floor, letting yourself vent to the cow. 

“i know, i know, everyone might think she’s a big ole’ grump,” you begin, “but i don’t see her that way. she’s so brave and she’s so smart! i see her reading her astronomy books all the time.”

you smile at yourself, the image of ellie sitting on the brown wicker chair on the porch pops in your brain. “when it gets late at night, i see her doodling the stars and planets,” you fawn, “shh, don’t tell her i told you that.” 

you sigh, leaning your cheek against the top of the broom’s handle, “she’s just so— amazing. a real special person. she deserves everything in the world for all she does.” 

as silence fills the barn, you gasp, minnie’s eyes widening in surprise. “maybe i’ll do something big for her. to show her how much she means to me.” 

you lean the broom against the wall, “thank you, minnie. for always listening to me.” you rub her head before you scurry out of the barn, heading home to lay out your plans. leaving minnie to chew on the straws of grain. 

- 

february 14th

“fucking shit!” ellie yelled, throwing her backpack off her back, creating a loud thud as it landed on the floor of the weapon’s armory shed. today’s patrol was particularly grueling today as she and jesse were confronted with two bloaters and four raiders. after a gruesome fistfight with the raiders, all the men did was loot their weapons and supplies and left them alive with their horses. they were considered extremely lucky, as in most cases, the raiders would’ve left them dead. 

“c’mon, we did good out there,” jesse remarked attempting to lighten the mood, but he should’ve known there was no worth in trying to cheer up an already pissed-off ellie. 

“yea, talking as if we didn’t almost fucking died today,” ellie snapped, “two separate times.”

“you know what you need?”

“what?”

“to blow off some steam. get cleaned up and head over to the bar,” jesse smirked at her, but she rolled her eyes, not wanting to do anymore socializing after the dreadful day she had. 

“not today, jess. i jus’ wanna go home, get this shit off me, and sleep for ten hours.”

“c’mon, you buzzkill. it’s valentines day after all,” he sighed, “you gonna spend it cooped up alone in your room?”

“yup.”

“please, ellie. just come with me. let’s celebrate our win today.” 

ellie thought for a moment, and knowing jesse would never take no for an answer for things like these, she reluctantly agreed, “fine.”

- 

unlike ellie, you were beaming, reeling in the ecstatic mood your favorite holiday has brought. valentine’s day was a day for love and celebration in the town of jackson. the local kids would decorate the buildings with red and pink heart streamers and maria always hosted a lovely get-together filled with delicious food, good music, and slow dances.

your heart skipped a beat at the thought of slow dancing with ellie — her hands on your waist, your arms slung around her neck, your bodies swaying ever so slowly along the rhythm of the song.

your hands fixed the pink ribbon in the back of your hair and adjusted some strands of hair to frame your face. you swiped some oil across your lips to give them a sheen gloss and adjusted the long sleeves of your red dress. you felt pretty. 

scrambling towards the kitchen, you flip open the white box, doubling checking the cake and making sure it didn’t need any last-minute toppings. satisfied with your baked creation, you closed the box and secured it in your hands, preparing to head out the door and make your way toward the tipsy bison.

during the walk there, you quietly rehearsed the speech you had prepared in your head. you were a bundle of nerves as you anxiously ran through the words over and over again, hoping by the time you made it to the bar, you got it down and wouldn’t make yourself look like a complete fool in front of ellie and her friends.

one of your hands pushed against the doors of the bar, the bell tinkling as you entered the establishment. you greeted a few familiar faces and smiled at barry, the regular bartender. but your mind was set on finding ellie, nothing less, so your eyes scanned the area and settled on a certain brunette who was sitting at a booth, amongst her chattering friends as she sipped on a glass of bourbon. 

you couldn’t help the smile that curled on your lips, “ellie!”

the brunette snapped her head at the sound of her name, but she let out a despondent groan after realizing it was you. she wasn’t in the mood nor did she have the patience to deal with you tonight, but nothing could stop you from heading in her direction. 

“ah, shit. she’s coming.” ellie takes a long swig of her drink, hoping the alcohol would make this entire ordeal more tolerable.

“be nice, ellie.” dina snapped as you approached their table. 

you smiled at everyone — jesse, dina, kelly, evan, ellie — and greeted them with a “happy valentines day everyone!”

everyone smiled and held up their drinks in acknowledgment as your eyes flickered on the girl in front of you. “can i talk to you, ellie? alone?”

a mixture of excitement and nerves flooded your body as you were getting ready to execute your plan.

ellie, however, was growing more worried and worried by each passing second. your little red dress was the first thing that caught her eye. the way that it hugged your figure and sat right above your knees to reveal the bare flesh of your legs made her want to protect you from the staring eyes of all the men in here and beat them into a pulp for thinking whatever perverted thoughts that clouded their head. the second thing that got her attention was the shine of your lips and how it managed to make them look pouty and tempting to kiss, an urge ellie had fought so hard to restrain. 

she cleared her throat, and laid back nonchalantly, trying to exude this false sense of confidence, “you can say it here.”

you swallowed thickly, “here? i-in front of everyone?”

“yup.”

looking around nervously, you hesitantly agreed as her friends had their eyes on you, completely immersed in your interaction. 

“alright, i guess i’ll just— come out with it.”

you took a deep breath to soothe your nerves. “ellie, we’ve known each other for years now, and in that time, i’ve– uh— grown to really, really like you. i think you’re so pretty and one of the bravest people in town— and— and you’re so intelligent, the way you know so much about space and stuff.”

if someone were to put a tomato next to ellie’s face, the resemblance would be uncanny. 

“what i’m trying to say is— is that i really hope you could give me a chance— give us a chance— and let me take you out on a date and show you how happy i can make you,” your voice shook, “i swear, ellie. i’d make you the happiest girl in the world.”

you opened the box to reveal a heart-shaped cake covered in pink frosting with the words ‘be mine’ in red buttercream and held it out to her. 

ellie was aghast, and she didn’t know what to say. her mind was going a mile a minute, and numerous emotions were shooting through her body. ellie felt so special and loved, a feeling she rarely ever experienced. she was frozen, yet the next words that would utter in her mouth would leave her regretting ever coming to the bar.

“i’m sorry. i— i don’t think i can do this.”

your brows furrowed, “wh-what do you mean?

“you. you’re too much. you’re always hovering, always around, always calling out my name when you see me. you follow me around and i’m sick of it,” ellie couldn’t stop the words from leaving her mouth, “please, just— leave me alone.”

the moment the words fell from her lips, she immediately felt regret. guilt washed over her the minute she saw your face fall and eyes fill up with tears. fuck. she didn’t know what made her lash out at you like that— perhaps it was the alcohol or the fucked up day this was, but she knew there was no excuse to say any of those things to you.

your lips wobbled, and a tear rolled down your cheek, “ellie williams,” you squeaked, “i never wanna see you again.” 

you dropped the boxed cake onto the wooden floor, the frosting flinging everywhere, and ran out of the bar. ellie wanted to run after you so badly, to take you in her arms and kiss your tears away, but she couldn’t. she was a coward. 

“congratulations, you just got 1st place for being the biggest, fucking asshole.” jesse snapped, but ellie didn’t bother responding, knowing what he said was true.

- 

ellie didn’t see you for a week after valentines day, and that transition from hearing your voice call her name every morning, feeling your arms wrap around her neck to hug her before she leaves, and enjoying your home-cooked meals to nothing at all was like night and day. it was quiet and silent, and all the color that filled her days was suddenly drained to a mere gray without you. 

ellie thought that maybe you were just purposely avoiding her, so she started showing up early at the stables before she left for patrol, but you were never there. then, she started walking around the barns, to see if you were occupying your time by tending to the animals, but no, you weren’t there either. 

unbeknownst to ellie, you spent the entire week at home, sulking in your pajamas and shoveling your favorite junk foods in your mouth while watching your favorite 90’s romantic comedy as an effort to mend your broken heart. you couldn’t bear the embarrassment of leaving the four walls of your home after being humiliated by ellie. 

after spending your days cooped up at home, you finally felt ready to come back to work at the barn. it was currently early in the morning, and you just opened the gates to the fence, letting minnie, the chickens, and a couple of the sheep graze on the grass.

as ellie walked towards the stables for patrol, she caught a glimpse of you from her peripheral vision and nearly broke her neck doing a double take. she knew it was you because you were the only one in this town who owned a pair of bright, yellow overalls. 

there you were, leaning against the wooden fence watching the animals as the sun sat on the edge of the horizon, painting hues of violet and saffron across the sky. ellie appeared next to you, leaning her arms against the wood surface. 

“uh, hey.”

you ignored her.

“how’re things?

silence.

“the animals doin’ okay?”

quiet.

“are you just gonna keep ignoring me?” yes. 

you sighed and turned to head back into the barns, not bothering to look at her. 

“i guess i deserved that.” ellie mutters, watching you walk away. she knew needed to apologize to you and she knew just the way to do it. 

- 

the day after ellie’s failed plan of getting you to talk to her, she conjured up a way to apologize to you.

as ellie was coming back from patrol, she carefully held the bouquet of vibrant, golden sunflowers in her hands. she remembered to bring her switchblade to cut them off of their long stems and tie them together into a beautiful bunch.

she knew how much you loved sunflowers, and remembered how you always used to beg her to take you outside of the gates so you could go collect some so you can plant your own. 

with a little pep in her step, ellie was confident that you would love the gift she got for you and you’d surely talk to her again in no time. everything would go back to how it was before. 

ellie approached the entrance of the barn, seeing you tend to minnie and rubbing the side of her belly. a ghost of a smile made its way onto her lips, and she walked towards you, tapping you on the shoulder. 

your head snapped around and looked at her, a neutral expression on your face. no more bright smile.

ellie coughed nervously, and she handed the bouquet of sunflowers to you, “here, these are for you,” you took them from her hands, “they’re pretty, just like you.”

you cautiously looked down at the posy of marigold sunflowers. 

she fucking loves them. i could tell already, ellie thought to herself. she had to suppress the proud smirk that was about to appear on her face. 

but you did something even ellie couldn’t predict. 

you picked one flower from the bunch, and you began feeding it to minnie. minnie took the floret in her mouth, and smacked on it contentedly, clearly enjoying her mid-afternoon snack.

as minnie chomped on the rest of the bouquet, you turned your heel and left ellie alone to her thoughts. 

“god, i’m so dumb,” ellie groans, and she peers at the small brown mammal, “at least someone likes them,” she comments as minnie looks at her with big, brown eyes.

- 

the next morning, ellie came to the stables early, hoping you’d be there, and to her surprise, you were.

ellie had came up with a new game plan to apologize to you. her first mistake with the bouquet was that she was trying to ‘woo’ you with gifts, but maybe what you needed was for her to just be honest with you and to open up. that was what ellie spent the rest of her night doing, writing a deep letter about her feelings for you and how sorry she is for telling you all those horrible things. 

as usual, you were with shimmer, brushing her coat and making sure she was groomed. from the corner of your eye, you could see ellie coming towards you, and you braced yourself.

she stopped in front of you and handed you a red envelope with your name on it. taking it from her hands, she smiles at you and takes shimmer’s leads from you, gently guiding her away. 

ellie took the time to put on shimmer’s saddle and to pack her bag with some extra treats for her during patrol, but she couldn’t help but think of your reaction to her letter. she imagined the smile that graced your face as you opened the letter and saw the little stickers adorning the border of the paper and reading over the black ink. 

but ellie was wrong. very, very wrong. 

as ellie turned her head to sneak a peek at you, she was startled to see you already looking straight at her. maintaining eye contact, you ripped up the letter and tossed it in the pile of horseshit. you brushed off your hands and walked away, feeling accomplished by your petty deed.

ellie turned to shimmer, “i guess i should’ve seen that one coming.”

- 

after a couple of days contemplating what to do with you, ellie decided enough was enough and that she was going to confront you, no matter what. 

the sun had already set, and the moon had overshadowed the dark, night sky. ellie climbed up the stairs of your house, and pressed three loud knocks against your door, adjusting the straps of the guitar gig bag on her shoulders. 

at first, she thought you weren’t going to answer the door, but after a momentary silence followed by a couple of sounds of shuffling, the door swung open. 

ellie assumed you were about to go to bed, as evidenced by your oversized sweatshirt and pajama pants hugging your hips. 

“hi,” you greeted, the sound of your voice surprising ellie after not having heard it for a while.

“hey,” ellie replied, “can i come in?”

you move aside, giving her room to step inside your home.

“where are your parents?” ellie queries, knowing they’d usually be home around this time.

“upstairs, asleep,” you nudged your head towards the hallway, “we’ll talk in my room.”

ellie follows behind you as you lead the way to your bedroom, opening the door and plopping down on your bed. she closes your bedroom door and slowly walks around, almost as if she’s scared to make any sudden movements.

she finally sits on your desk chair in front of you, taking off her guitar bag and setting it down on the floor next to her.

you weren’t sure what compelled you to finally talk to ellie and let her in your home, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease and anxiety. there was no telling what she was really here for.

“i came here because i wanted to apologize,” ellie murmured, “i’ve been trying to apologize for a couple of days now and i’m gonna keep on trying because what i did was really, really shitty.”

you were silent for a brief moment, “...yeah. it was shitty.”

ellie sighed, “i’ll apologize a million times if you want me to.”

“ellie— you don’t get it. you humiliated me in front of the whole town,” your voice cracked, “i don’t think i could forgive you that easily.”

her heart squeezed in your chest seeing the tears well up in your eyes and hearing the little sniffles coming from your nose. it was her fault you were hurt. she did this.

ellie got up and sat on your bed next to you, letting her feelings overcome her and allowing herself to wrap her arms around your frame, holding you close as you cried into her hoodie.

you pulled away from her chest, looking up at her with glossy eyes, “i was nothing but nice to you, els. you could’ve told me something if i was bothering you,” you wiped a tear, “i would’ve left you alone.”

ellie sighed and brushed your hair out of your face, her entire demeanor softening as she was consumed by your presence, “i didn’t want you to leave me alone.”

“huh?” you gave her a confused look.

“look, i’m not really good at showing my feelings. whenever i try to express how i feel or whatever, it goes sideways and i end up fucking up,” ellie explained, “i really do like you, a whole shit ton. i love everything you do for me and i love how you’re always there and how you wear these crazy bright colors and how you talk to the animals in that one baby voice.”

heat rose to your cheeks and it was impossible to hide the blush that spread across your nose.

“i want to be with you,” she confessed, “i just get terrified of being vulnerable and opening up. love makes you do crazy shit and i don’t know— i hate not being in control.”

you were silent, thinking carefully of what to say next. ellie was internally begging for you to say something, anything.

“love means taking risks and being out of your comfort zone, els,” you whispered quietly, “take the leap.”

ellie soaked in your words. take the leap. take the leap. take. the. leap. 

her hand cupped your cheek and she leaned in, pressing her lips against yours, tasting the salt of your tears. ellie’s lips moved gently against yours, not wanting to show any urgency toward you.

she felt your hand creep up to the side of her neck, rubbing against her soft skin as you deepen the kiss. 

ellie pulls away, leaning her forehead against yours, “i’m sorry, baby. please, i can’t bear being without you,” she whispers, “i’m so, so sorry. i’ll never be an asshole to you again.” 

“i’ll forgive you this one time, williams,” you murmur, “but don’t take my kindness for weakness.”

ellie pulled away, taking her acoustic guitar out of her bag and placing it in her lap.

“here, let me sing you a song i know you’ll love.”

ellie’s fingers strummed the strings, playing a chord.

i’ve never known someone like you

tangled in love, stuck by you

from the glue

her voice sang the lyrics to your favorite song, eliciting that beaming smile she’d missed so badly.

don’t forget to kiss me 

or else you’ll have to miss me

i guess i’m stuck forever by the glue

a tear rolled down your cheek, as you were overwhelmed with joy at the site of her singing. something not too many had the privilege of experiencing. 

finding the right words to use for this song

i have you in mind

so it won’t take so long

never thought i’d find you

but you’re here and so i love you

as the lyrics left ellie’s lips, she knew she’d chosen the right song to sing for you. as this song described everything you both have gone through, being attached to each other like glue.

i’m not wrong when i say i’ve been stuck

by the glue onto you

i’ve been stuck by glue

right onto you

i’ve been stuck by glue

the song came to an end, and ellie placed the guitar down, feeling unnerved from you watching her sing for the first time. you sniffle and smiled, throwing your arms around her and hugging her tightly.

“i loved it! you were amazing, els!” you quipped, inciting a small laugh from ellie.

“glad you liked it, babe.”

you pull away slightly to face her, “gosh, how i missed you,” you exasperate, “it was torture having to ignore you for days.”

ellie lets out a laugh, “oh yeah? if anything, i think out of the both of us, you’re the meaner one.”

you smile and shrug your shoulders, “what can i say, williams? you bring out that side to me.”

ellie smiles and pecks your cheek, “and you bring out the softer side to me, baby,” she points out, “isn’t it ironic? we’re total opposites yet we bring these sides out of each other.” 

“yeah, it is a bit funny,” you giggle, “but i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie x reader angst #ellie x fem!reader #ellie x reader fluff #ellie williams x reader fluff #Spotify

[withleeknow]

how he would take care of you during shark week. ⤷ chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

pairing: jisung x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, mentions of periods bc duhhh erhm note: ok so i'm REALLY not sure what this is lmao but i switched up entirely compared to the first installation (with minho) and i think this is the format i'll be sticking with for the rest of the members. i'm still just experimenting and trying to figure how i want to approach doing drabbles/drabble series like this so pls bear with me a little for now lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / blurb masterlist / ko-fi

jisung, who can't be trusted with even the simplest of tasks. you should've known better. (and honestly? you did know better, which probably makes the whole thing so much worse.)

jisung, whom you ask to run to the store just because you were too lazy to brave the evening chill yourself and get the shit you need.

jisung, who texts you what size pussy u wear? while he stands in the middle of the aisle, feeling like he's illiterate as he's surrounded by products of different colors and shapes and sizes and wings.

jisung, whose eyes catch a specific pink packaging with pretty flowers that makes him pull out his phone and snap you a picture. this one looks better. yours is boring, he'd text you, to which you'd replied with a dozen question marks before calling him an idiot and telling him to leave the fancy pads and hurry home with the ones you usually use.

jisung, who returns about thirty minutes later holding two large bags in his hands, which definitely contain a lot more than what you had sent him out for - just a pack of overnight pads and some sweets.

jisung, who kisses you in greeting as your eyes narrow suspiciously, then he'd proudly show off the goodies that you didn't need - an assortment of sour candies and chocolates, chips, ice cream bars, your favorite cookies, and lastly, a random purple pouch.

jisung, whose love language looks a lot like making you get diabetes whenever your time of the month rolls around.

jisung, who beams like a kid in a candy store when you ask him about the pouch with a brow raised. "look!" he'd beam, holding the little thing up like it's the most magical invention he's ever come across in his entire life. "it holds your pads! and it has unicorns on it!"

jisung, who doesn't deflate at all when you tell him that you already have one, but instead, he'd tell you to ditch the one you have because it's too "boring" (re: it doesn't have unicorns.)

jisung, who volunteers to carry the pouch for you the next time you go out together, musing to himself about whether or not he should add a little strap so he could wear it like a crossbody bag, not even batting an eye when you stare at him and gape in disbelief.

jisung, who really uses your shark week as an excuse to buy dumb shit for himself and stuff you full of treats.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 25.04.2024]

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #han x reader #han jisung fluff #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagines #han jisung x you #stray kids #han jisung

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ sensory deprivation with choso 𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 25: pussy delivery for you!!!

✿ choso kamo x circus entertainer! reader

✿ warnings: sensory deprivation, fucking while hanging from a rope, p in v, creampie, oral (m receiving)

You watch him from your swing in the circus. He's in between all the people, ready to see you perform. You have never noticed him before even though you have performed in this city a lot of times. At first sight, he's different. All of the guys try to maintain their bad boy hair while he's wearing a fucking pigtails. What guy wears pigtails?

"Who wants to be my accomplice?" you ask the audience, and they answer by roaring chanter. Everybody wants to get closer to you.

Your family has a deep history of doing circus. It was your great-grandfather who started all of this. You never complained though. Your job is to swing wrapped in ropes, doing all kinds of tricks.

"What about you, sir?" you point at the guy in pigtails. He looks surprised that you would pick him, but he follows you to the stage. The shyness just radiates off of him, and you think it's the cutest thing ever.

"We have a brave volunteer here, " you exclaim with a smile, "you see those hoops? You can't connect them, but I'm gonna show you that is possible."

This trick is old, but people seem to love it the most. Half of your body is wrapped in the rope swing, and you place one hoop in the guy's hands.

You swing your swing around him, gathering some speed before you throw the hoop at him. He puts it right in front of him at the right moment for it to intertwine with the other hoop. The crowd roars in awe, throwing flowers at you. Another hoop follows suit and lands perfectly into the hoop too.

"That's all guys," you yell at the crowd. They boo at you, wanting to see you do something more, but it's the end of your performance. You hop out of the ropes, gathering the hoops from the guy.

When you're close to his side, you whisper in his ear, "Meet me here at 6 pm."

Choso had his eyes on you for a long time, always watching your videos on YouTube. He used to come to the circus with his family when he was little before you were even born. But he never got the courage to visit you personally. Until today.

He sneaks away from the circus security, heading right into the main tent. Here you are - his goddess. You're in your swing, swinging from one side of the tent to the other.

He dares to step closer to you, making you notice him. You stop by slithering your legs around his waist. He jumps at your touch, and his cheeks turn red when you take his face in your hands.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you." you pout at him, using your finger to graze his bottom lip. He's shy, almost trembling under your touch. Choso tries to control himself, after all, it's the first time he gets to touch you.

"Do you want me to make you feel good?" you whisper in his ear, and he nods timidly. You swing upside down on the ropes, your face coming in contact with his hard-on. You don't waste any time as you pull down his pants to reveal his hard cock. He's big, pretty dark curls on the base. You usually mind when a guy doesn't shave, but it fits him.

Your mouth wraps around his cock, and you swirl your tongue on the base. His shaking hands find their way to your hair, and he guides you. he slowly thrusts his cock deeper when he sees you have no trouble taking in.

"I love your mouth." he moans. This is better than he imagined. Your mouth is way warmer than his own fist. This is exactly what turns him on, you in the ropes with his cock in your mouth. He whines when you pull away from him.

You turn normally again to tell him he can do whatever he wants with you. He's eager to finally fuck you, finally sinking his cock into the woman he dreamt of for years and years.

Choso grabs the robes, tying your wrists together while keeping you secure with the rest of them. The dress you're wearing doesn't conceal your body, and he has no issue pulling the bottom of your bodysuit to the side.

He nearly moans when he gets to see your glistening pussy. His fingertips pet your wetness, and he uses it as lube for his cock.

His length pushes all the way inside of your pussy, making you gasp. He's sloppy, he would never tell you that it's his first time. His head leans on your shoulder, this is too much for him. Your pussy is way tighter than he thought it would be, wrapping around his cock nicely.

"You're so hot." you moan, you want so badly to run your hands through his hair, but he has you wrapped. He's speeding his thrusts, and you suspect that he's close. You want to cum first.

"Come on, baby. fuck me until I'm screaming." he doesn't need to be told twice. His cock angles inside you so that your sweet spot is abused by his cock. He fucks you nicely when he's more focused.

You feel close under his new set of thrusts, and you know that he's close too.

"Gonna cum together?" you ask him. he just nods his head, poor guy too overwhelmed to answer. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, making your pussy wrap even tighter around his cock. Choso can't take it as he cums right inside of you. He just hopes his beloved sweetheart gets pregnant.

"Untie me, please," you beg, you're still in the hair by the restraints. He panics, what if you would like to run away with him?

He carefully unties the rope, setting you down on the ground. He's fast, and he's not gonna let you get away.

"What's your name by the way?" you ask him as you check your outfit to see if there's any damage.

"Choso Kamo."

"Nice to meet you, Choso. I gonna think about when I come back here"

choso smiles to himself, you're not getting anywhere. Not under his watch.

#jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #choso kamo x you #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader

[victoryverse]

In Love

just a small story about simon riley falling in love with you, his teammate

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Simon was in love. He never thought it would happen to him, especially not in the midst of his dangerous and unpredictable life as a member of the Ghosts. But there he was, head over heels for you, the newest member of the team.

At first, it was just a small spark of attraction. You were undeniably beautiful, with your fiery pretty hair and beautiful eyes. But it wasn't just your looks that drew Simon in, it was your determination and strength. You were a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, and Simon found himself in awe of you.

As he got to know you better, that spark turned into a flame. He would catch himself stealing glances at you during missions, admiring the way you handled yourself under pressure. He loved the way you could go from fierce and focused to lighthearted and playful in a matter of seconds.

But it wasn't just your skills as a soldier that had Simon falling for you. It was the little things, the way you would always make sure everyone was taken care of, even in the midst of chaos. Your kindness and compassion shone through even in the darkest of times, and Simon couldn't help but be drawn to that.

As time went on, Simon found himself wanting to spend more and more time with you. He would purposely volunteer for missions that he knew you would be on, just so he could be near you. He loved the way your smile could light up a room, and how your laughter was like music to his ears.

It wasn't until a particularly dangerous mission that Simon realized just how deep his feelings for you ran. The team had been ambushed and separated, and Simon found himself fighting off a group of enemies alone. But in the midst of the chaos, all he could think about was you. He knew he had to make it out alive so he could see you again.

And when he did make it out alive, battered and bruised, he knew he had to tell you how he felt. It was a risk, considering the dangerous lifestyle they both lived, but Simon couldn't keep his feelings hidden any longer.

He showed up at your door that night, still wearing his gear and covered in dirt and blood. But when you opened the door, all he could see was your beautiful smile and the way your eyes lit up at the sight of him.

'I'm in love with you,' he blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer.

You were taken aback at first, but then a smile spread across your face. 'I'm in love with you too, Simon,' you whispered, pulling him into a kiss.

From that moment on, you were inseparable. You were each other's rock, always there to support and protect one another. And as the years went by, Simon's love for you only grew stronger.

He couldn't believe that someone like you, someone so strong and brave, could love him back. But he was grateful every day for the love you shared, and he knew that he would do anything to keep you safe and by his side.

Simon was in love, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

tell me if you like this! i write for cod, so you can send in requests too! reblogs are appreciated :D

#call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #cod #cod smut #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost #fluff #simon petrikov #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley x you

[nickfurysrighteye]

Practise?

chase davenport x reader

summary: the school's gonna do a play and it's gonna be Romeo and Juliet. Chase was supposed to help with the behind the scenes but instead he gets to play Romeo, and you, Juliet, offer him some help with his lines..

cw: sfw, kissing, that's it i think

a/n: this is my first time writing for this fandom and also my first time making my writing public so please be kind :') ...i haven't written any type of fanfic in a veeeery long time. this is just for fun!!!

"Seriously?! I can't believe it!"

Janelle yells storming into the gym. Everybody stops what they're doing to look at her puzzled. This year Mission Creek High decided to organize a play and upon a great request it was decided to stage 'Romeo and Juliet'. Janelle volunteered to direct the entire planning of it.

"Our Romeo decided it was a great time to break his arm, therefore we don't have a Romeo anymore!" she says walking towards Leo, who's busy painting the fake wooden balcony. Leo decided to take part in the production only to have an excuse to be with Janelle, and doing so he dragged Chase along, just to have some company.

A few people gather around to see what was going on, you take your eyes off the script you were revising to look at your classmates on the opposite site of the room.

"So? What's the big deal?" says Leo "The understudy can take his place."

"The big deal is we don't have an understudy! We barely have enough people working on this play, do you really think we have extras?" Janelle is furious.

"Why don't we pick somebody from the crew?" you barge into the conversation, feeling the eyes of everyone onto you "I mean, it's not like we have time to redo auditions.."

Everybody is silent, eyes going left and right scanning the room for someone brave enough to take on one of the leading roles. You look behind Leo's shoulder "I bet Chase could do it."

Chase was surprised and slightly confused by your statement "Me? But I'm not an actor." he says, struggling to speak loud enough to be heard.

"Neither am I, and neither is everyone else..this is a high school play not Broadway, no of us are actors." you shrug while looking over to the brown haired boy.

Janelle looks over to him "Chase, do you think you could do it? You'd be a life saver, honestly." you could hear the tension in her voice from all the stress the planning brought her.

"I-i mean, sure I could give it a try" Chase tried so hard to sound confident in his choice but you could hear the slight tremor in his tone.

"Perfect, problem solved!" Janelle said.

Once everyone got back to work you get closer to Chase, "If you want we can practise the lines together, I could also give you some tips."

"Sure, I'd love that." Chase says with a sweet, soft smile. "Cool, you can stop by at my house today if that's ok." you smile back

"Yeah, sure, I'll see you later."

-

After school, the two brothers head to the lab and Chase is panicking, regretting the choice he made earlier that day. "Why would I agree to do something like this?! Why didn't you stop me Leo?! This is going to be a disaster! The play's gonna suck!" he spits out the words so quickly he can barely keep up with his thoughts.

"Chase chill out! You'll be fine, like Y/n said no one here's an actor, you're all gonna suck" Leo's already tired of his complaining.

Chase's worry isn't only his acting, but the fact he's gonna be the lead in a romantic play with you as his love interest. He's also terrified by the idea of having to kiss you multiple times on stage, in front of a ton of people. This is stressing him out way more than anticipated.

He already knew who you were long before taking part in this project. He saw you walk around the halls, he saw you sitting a couple of desks in front of him in some classes you have together. He always thought about you as the pretty girl he would only talk to in his imagination. Nobody could have predicted the two of you acting as lovers in a school play. Certainly not Chase.

-

With his heart beating out of his chest, Chase knocks on your front door. You open the door and invite him in. "We can go upstairs in my room" you say, guiding him upstairs.

You go through the script together, focusing on the more difficult parts to memorize. You're suprised Chase could memorize all these lines so quickly, and he's getting better at getting into character.

He says every line with the right feeling, you two work in harmony, it's like you're no longer acting as the characters but are living the story as yourselves.

"You're quite talented you know that Chase?" you smile

"Thanks, I'm actually a bit nervous if I'm being honest." he chuckes while lowering his eyes, looking at his fingers fidgeting with the corner of the script's page.

"How come? You're doing great." you tilt you're head slightly. You sit on your bed, taking a small break.

He shrugs, sitting down beside you "I don't know, I just am" he mumbles.

You stare at him with a soft gaze, you study his expression, you're lightly mesmerized by the way the light beam from the setting sun is hitting his face, shining through your window. His eyes now being a warmer hazel tone.

He can hear the beat of his heart in his ears "Actually, I'm scared 'cause --" he stops "I'm worried about our kiss."

"Our kiss?"

"Yeah, it scares me a little having to kiss in front of an audience."

"It's gonna be a quick kiss don't worry about it."

"I know, it's just that --" he looks down again "I've never done it before."

"You've never kissed anyone?" you say, the slight surprise in your voice makes him feel even worse now.

"It's fine Chase, I get it. There's no need to be ashamed of it." you try to reassure him. "Wanna practise?"

"The kiss?" he looks at you.

"Yeah, I mean, we probably should anyway since it's part of the play." you say, standing up and placing yourself in front of him like you would be on stage.

"Yeah, ok, that's..a good idea" he stands up as well. Chase tries to hide his uncertainty.

"You sure about this?" you ask, you don't want to pressure him.

"A hundred percent" he's anxious, he's rubbing subtly his hands on his jeans because they're starting to sweat, his knees get weaker and he hopes they'll be strong enough to support him.

"Ok now, just follow my lead." you take his hand, leaning nearer. Your other hand cupping his cheek, your lips are now inches apart. Your touch feels warm on his skin, making him breathe faster.

"Close your eyes." as he does so, your place your lips onto his gently, and start to slowly and softly kiss him.

A warm feeling of joy starts to bubble up in his chest as he copies your movements and picks up the pace. The kiss gets more intense, more impatient as he tastes your lips. You get closer and your hand that was on his cheek is now on the back of his neck, tangling your fingers with his hair. His hands start to move, although he's still unsure of what to do.

You stop for a brief moment. "It's ok if you wanna touch me, y'know." Chase laughs a little, he then places his hands on your sides, sliding them down to your waste. He grabs a little harder and pull you into another kiss, this time greedier, messier.

He didn't think it would feel this good kissing you, his heart is racing so fast you could probably hear it. Your lips are exploring eachother, you're both enjoying this much more than you should be. After a few moments Chase decides to wet your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, you part your lips a bit and he slips part of his tongue in. The feeling of your tongues tasting eachother sends shivers down your spine, you feel your cheeks getting warmer.

"You taste amazing" he blurs out the moment he stops to catch his breath, then he pulls you again into another kiss. His words make you melt.

Chase has lost track of time. Actually he has lost track of anything, he can only feel you. Your lips, your tongue, your taste, the sweet smell of your perfume and the warmth of your body standing so close to his. A few moments pass and you pull away to catch your breath, your faces still close to eachother.

"Was i good?" his question makes you chuckle.

"Yeah, you were. You know the kiss isn't supposed to last this long though, right?"

"Sorry i got a bit carried away." Chase laughs a little. You smile softly, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

"I don't think you're gonna have problems on stage, Chase"

"Although we should probably get back to revising the lines"

"We should, but after we're done we should go back to the kissing part, just to be sure"

#lab rats #chase davenport #chase davenport concepts #chase davenport x reader #labrats #lab rats chase

[jeeaark]

Previously on 'Orpheus' First Impressions'

Alternative Titles: Famous Last Words, Cue 'If You Like Pina Coladas' Epic Trailer Song, If Store-Bought is Unavailable, Self-Made Pina Colada is Fine, and It May Not Be The Pina Colada Anybody Wanted, but It's the Pina Colada Everyone Needed.

So I vaguely heard what could happen to Karlach and kept that in my in-case-of-emergency-break-glass reload mindset. But uh. Nah. Greygold had an ✨Agenda✨ after all of that.

Was so dedicated to volunteering, didn't even let Orpheus finish talking. nor read the other options. Nor said any goodbyes or talk it out with the others. No second thoughts, Just fully resonating the saying 'if you want things done right, you gotta do it yourself'

Kept wondering why Orpheus kept calling it a 'noble sacrifice' until the uh. Cutscene happened. Forgot that ceremorphis wasn't like a uh. wildshape shift or a magical girl transformation. Which means Greygold definitely hadn't been listening to Lae'zel's explicit descriptions of the process way back in the beginning. Too busy getting lost in babe's eyes, whoops.

Speaking of babe, she sounded pretty cranky again during the huddle talk to squidification (when I checked it out after the game), but I like to think it's because she was trying to put on a brave soldier face from how upset she really was about the situation.

Lae'zel after Orpheus' mindblown callout: This is the worst moment of my life. Lae'zel now, Drenched in her Joy's Blood: ........No, this is. This is worse.

But also I don't know if it's been confirmed what Orpheus' stance was on if he'd've worked with Emps or not, but in this reality? From the vibes I was was getting? Gonna play with the idea of it being a big 'nah'. More 'fun' this way.

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #orpheus #greygold #bg3 fanart #bg3 comic #rolling nat 20s on intimidation checks totally #poor lae'zel can't use violence to solve this problem

[lordoftherazzles]

My takeaway from the past 24+ hours...

There are so many of us that rely on ao3, whether you're a reader or writer. It brings us joy, it gives us an escape from the real world, and it lets us come together as a community to share stories and scenarios about our favorite fandoms and characters. The amount of posts I have seen on multiple platforms lamenting over the DDoS attacks is overwhelming - but with most of them comes a delightful cheer to the volunteers working to resolve this issue.

I've seen so many statements of praise for those volunteers, which is exactly what they deserve, and more. Can you imagine working for over 24 hours straight, on a volunteer basis, against something like this? They're the real MVPs, and I think our appreciation for them gets lost until moments like this rise.

With that said, here is my first real takeaway...

Don't bitch when ao3 does a donation drive. They work hard to keep the archive up and running, and with that costs money. Every server, every new addition or feature you want to see added to help make the site better, it costs money. The legal team that is defending fanfic authors??? MONEY. SO! DON'T! COMPLAIN!

I'm not saying you have to go out and donate your paycheck to ao3 - but I will say that, especially with this situation, if you can donate even a little bit to show your support, it means more than you probably realize, and even if you can't donate (which is totally okay), be kind to those who work on the archive. Send them kind words of encouragement, rather than flaming the archive because it's under attack - because yeah, I've seen people bitching AT ao3 for not working fast enough, or for it still being down. STOP IT.

My second takeaway...

Don't believe everything you see on the internet. Ao3 themselves have advised that the group claiming to take credit for this attack is to be treated with skepticism. And not only that, let's NOT automatically make assumptions about who is responsible just because of an organization's name. It's just a NAME, it doesn't identify a person's origin, background, etc. But I'm not here to dive into that much further. Point: I better not see any Sudanese hatred on my dash, or I will bite you.

My third takeaway...

Treat your fanfic writers with respect. We all now see first hand how much we depend on these stories. As I said above, for some it's an escape, a creative release, and a way to communicate with other people through similar interests. It's a beautiful creation, neither above nor below any other kind of literature.

Consider commenting, reblogging, kudos, anything you can to let the authors know you enjoyed and appreciate their works. Everyone is free to communicate in the way that suits them best, but every little bit is appreciated - as a fanfic writer myself, I can tell you that even a little heart emoji has made my day. It's like receiving a second kudos, and tells me that someone appreciated my efforts enough to give me a double thumbs up.

Any form of communication with the authors is appreciated. It lets them know that people are genuinely interested. We live in a world where INSTANT GRATIFICATION is taking over, but creations such as this take time. Talk with the authors, ask them about their wips, tell them they're doing a great job. Do NOT pester about "when are you updating next?" or the dreaded AI option - again, I will BITE PEOPLE if I see you doing this. Just...have some respect, show your appreciation, it's more than JUST FANFIC.

At the end of the day I guess this post is about being kind. Not pointing fingers or slandering people due to a name. It's about appreciating the things we do have, and not taking them for granted. Whether it's the brave cyber warriors currently fighting these DDoS attacks on the frontline, or the authors writing for not only their enjoyment, but for others too. Let's all respect one another, and show our support when and where we can.

HUGE THANK YOU TO THE VOLUNTEERS AT AO3, YOU ARE THE REAL MVPS!!!

#ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #razzy's rambles

[netherfeildren]

Greener Memories of Better Men

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Best Story of the Day! South Austin elementary school started a “Breakfast With Dads” program but many dads couldn’t make it and several students didn’t have father figures. The school posted fliers at the local YMCA’s for 50 volunteer fathers… 600 different people from all backgrounds showed up…

Joel Miller is one of them. 

-OR- 

Sarah’s gone and Joel wants to feel close to her again. He reconnects with someone he used to know along the way.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Grief; Child loss; Emotional hurt/comfort; Angst; Fluff and smut; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (f!receiving); Size Difference; Size kink; Dirty talk; Truck sex; Praise kink

A/N: This was planned for a long time, and then just happened all at once today without prior thought. Enjoy! :)

Word Count: 10.8K

Read on AO3

When she got very sick, towards the end, they used to listen to “The Weight” by The Band all the time. He’d sit at her bedside playing it for her over and over again, and he’d watch her breathe. For hours, he’d sit there and watch the rise and fall of her chest, the slow, weak thrum of her pulse in her neck beneath the wan and clammy skin, listen to the sound of her fight to continue existing. Sometimes, when she was a little more on this side of lucid, when she’d let him look at those gorgeous green eyes, she’d mouth the words at him through cracked, parched lips. Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed? The still beautiful sound of her laughter, not made any less lovely despite its weakness now, when she adapted the lyrics to suit herself, take a load off, daddy. 

And sometimes, when she was keen on showing that superior and tremendous wit, that intelligent mind, the eye she had for seeing within and through him, she’d say that Fanny was the friend they’d always needed, but had never had. Like she knew, she knew there were times, only sometimes, where there was something missing, an imaginary figure that would have been nice or helpful, that was sometimes wished for. A mother, a wife, a partner, a friend, something they might have both needed or liked to have, perhaps, even especially, now, at the end. 

It had been a slow crawl towards death, for a long time, and then, suddenly, a mad dash to the finish line she’d seemed desperate to win. 

At times he’d been angry, angry and resentful and so fucking filled with a rage so deep it terrified him at the unfairness of it all. Sometimes there were parts of Joel that wished it was him lying in that bed, rotting away from the inside out by that invisible poison crawling through his little girls veins, but then the idea of Sarah being the one left behind, the one left alone, seemed an equally terrible fate, and he could not discern which was the worse of the two evils. And so he was left with nothing but this terrible impotence warring inside of him against his equally terrible anger. 

If he could have carried the weight of her illness for her, he would have. If he could have bore the pain and suffering of it, he would have. He would have eaten his own heart, cut off his own limb, forsaken everything he’d ever known, to have taken her suffering from her. He’d told her they’d be brave together, that they’d get out of it together. Eventually though, that mad dash had ended, and after it was all done, she’d been the only one to be brave, and he’d been the only one to get out of it. If that’s what it could even be called. Sarah had died and Joel had been left with nothing more than whatever half life he pretended at now. 

It’d been a year and a half since then, five hundred and sixty seven days since he’d put his only child in the ground. Days of living his life as if a thousand raging gladiators screamed and readied for battle in his mind while he lay limp and motionless in their midst. While he lay limp and motionless as the rest of the world went on around him. He failed all the time now, it seemed. Failed at being a father, a man, a brother, in his waking hours and in his dreams. And sometimes he wondered or worried at what she’d think of him now, if she saw what he’d let himself become. A limp and useless thing in the shadow of the memory of what he’d always been or wanted to be. 

But he remembered love, he remembered loving her, and he thought that if he held onto that, perhaps, he could be something again. Certainly not himself, or who or what he’d been before, but he could find the wherewithal or the strength or the conviction to be something, surely, he could be something again. How could death have the ability to touch such perfection? He could not understand. So, if he could no longer be a father, Sarah's father, then he could find it in himself to at least be alive, couldn’t he? For her, at least, for that memory of loving her. 

He sees the flier at the YMCA one evening, after he’s finished his workout. For months he’d gone from work to bed and bed to work. Gotten soft and lazy and horrible, half dead, but he’d had a dream a few weeks ago, a memory of them at Lady Bird Lake when they’d go and feed the ducks. She’d wanted to burst into the water after them, catch one for herself. Skinny little arms and legs flailing as he caught her around the waist, stopping her from rushing in after the poor things as they paddled madly away from the lovely little terror that she was. The thing he was now was not the man, the father, he had been before, not even a fraction. And he’d felt disgusted and ashamed and frightened with himself at the thought of her ever seeing the creature he’d become. He’d gone for a jog that evening after work. As exhausted and beaten down from the day as he’d been, he’d tied on his sneakers and forced his body to move. It had felt terrible and cathartic and he’d thrown up in his front yard afterwards, pathetic, heaving sobs wracking his body as he emptied the contents of his stomach in the overgrown grass and tears dripped down the tip of his nose, right there for the whole world to witness. But he’d gone out again the next day and the next and the next, and then he’d gone and gotten a membership for the Y, paid the thirty dollars and promised himself he’d make it there a few days every week. Pushed himself week after week to exhaustion and tears, even, sometimes. Wilting into bed at the end of the day like a felled weed, but he couldn’t stop. 

Don’t stop to think, don’t interrupt the scream. 

So he tried to not think, and he tried to keep going. 

They used to walk down there all the time before, to the Y, Joel, Sarah and Tommy. She loved to swim, and the three of them would jump in the pool together and play for hours every summer. They were good memories he knew he needed to keep fresh in his mind, like a muscle that needed to be exercised constantly. He couldn’t, didn’t want to lose them. 

The flier called for volunteers to show up for an event at Sarah’s old elementary school, “Breakfast with Dads” requesting fathers who could show up for those children who didn’t have a father figure in their lives. He’d stood still as a statue, reading the poster over and over again for almost ten minutes there, in the middle of the bustle of the busy gym around him. He could still remember the last time he’d picked her up at school with perfect clarity, the way she’d looked, curls bobbing around her, green eyes shining, shooting out the double doors towards him. She’d always been good in school, smart and lovely and friendly. He’d had to make the difficult decision to pull her out almost a year before she’d died, when she’d started getting too weak from the treatments to continue going in person. He’d not been back to the place since. Didn’t know if he was capable of walking through those halls she used to walk through, where she’d been happy, had friends, been a kid. 

He thinks about it for days afterwards, afraid and unsure and awkward with himself. Worried the children will be able to smell the deceit on him, the fact that he isn’t really a father anymore, lying on the soft purple rug of her perfectly preserved bedroom. A mausoleum to her memory that he meticulously cleans every Sunday to maintain exactly as she left it, staring up at the stick-on stars of the ceiling. He thinks that perhaps it would be good for him, that perhaps he would like the chance to feel like a father again, to remember what it is to have some spunky little kid talk at him for hours on end the way Sarah used to. And if nothing else, he thinks that there might be some child out there without the commodity of a father, the way he is without the blessing of his daughter, who would appreciate the fact that he’d shown up. Perhaps, he can make some kid not feel as alone as he always feels now. 

The morning of the breakfast dawns bright and warm, but with the faint scent of impending rain in the ether. She’d died on the same kind of sunny, tremulous day, and Joel’s hands shake as he walks up the steps of the elementary school. Flashes of the memory of her running out of these same double doors, skipping down the steps, curls flopping and gap toothed smile more luminous and sillier than any sight he’d ever beheld before. His heart beats like a hummingbird in his chest, hands clammy and shaking and ridiculous. He cries all the time now, at any and everything and it embarrasses him but is also so strangely freeing. He’d watched that ridiculous, but not really, movie Uptown Girls last night and had wept like a child at the end of it, all throughout it if he’s being honest. Huge mistake for the night before he was supposed to show face bright and early and have some kid inspecting him. Tommy’d shown up this morning with coffee and burritos and told him his face looked swollen, fucking asshole, and he’s once again ridiculous and embarrassed and awkward and shaking with nerves as he takes a few deep, calming breaths, before stepping into the Sarah’s old cafeteria. 

The large room is loud and chaotic, the bright sound of children’s voices and laughter and commotion, and people, there are a lot of fucking people. Two different lines of men, traversing the entire wide room, starting at a long table on one end and snaking through the lunch tables. It seems he wasn’t the only one who’d seen the posters, who had felt the need to come here today. He’s inspecting the lines, deciding which one seems to be moving faster when he hears his name, soft and breathy and incredulous, voice like a fucking angel: “Joel?”

He turns and there you are. “Joel Miller?” You almost stumble towards him, hand almost outstretched, eyes almost swimming. The last time he’d seen you was the last time he’d picked Sarah up here, and there’d been real tears in your eyes that time as you got to your knees, and his daughter buried her face in your neck, your soft hair, as she cried and told you how much she’d miss you, how much she didn’t want to go. You’d been her last teacher before she’d had to leave school – she’d never gotten to finish the year with you, and it had been a painful and difficult parting for the both of you. One he’d not appreciated fully in the moment, but now, looking at your shocked face, like you’ve seen a ghost, the memory rears its head in his mind, the sound of your voice trying to soothe her, trying to remain strong, stifle the sound of your own tears. You’d gone to the hospital once, near the end, the nurses had told him, in the quick hour he allotted himself to go home and shower every day, to say goodbye to her. Had sat at her bedside and laughed with her, brought her a card and a bright bouquet of yellow daisies in a pretty, blown glass vase from her entire class. It had been near the end of the school year, what would have been the end of Sarah’s second grade year, and he’d been glad, after the nurse had gushed about the pretty young woman who’d come in, made Sarah laugh and smile, perked her up for even a few brief moments, he’d been so fucking glad he’d missed you. He hoped he’d never have to see you again, could avoid the memory of his daughter in your care, the way the two of you looked at each other, like you shared a secret, a friendship, a connection, that of pupil and teacher, but also just two girls, something special and sacred. He envied it and resented it and was glad he’d missed you and grateful he’d not had to see you, but he was also grateful for the fact of you, that you’d been able to give her something she’d needed and he could not provide. 

He whispers your name, and you finally reach him, hand fully outstretched now, not an almost anything anymore, and your small, delicate fingers grasp at his thick forearm. The soft touch burns. 

He places his big hand over yours, completely engulfing you, and when he whispers your name back he feels a tremble in your limb. “Joel, I’m so glad to see you,” said with so much sincerity he feels the backs of his eyes pinch. He did not think the hardest part of this day would be seeing you again, a person who’d known and cared for his daughter so deeply. 

“I– I’m glad to be here,” he chokes, coughs, tries to take a steadying breath. “I saw the posters– just thought… I just thought it’d be nice for me to come around.”

“Yes,” you squeeze his arm gently, “Yes, of course. Welcome, please, I’m really so glad to see you here. There are so many great kids here today–” you cut yourself off, and your face does a funny sort of uncertain thing, you shake your head, try and give him a small smile. A deep breath, and then: “There are so many kids here that need someone. It’s a real good thing you came.”

“Yeah, well… I just wanted to– to feel– to remember–” he shakes his head too, unable to continue, but he sees that you understand. You slide that small hand into his, wrapping around two of his thick fingers and pull him around and further into the room. Nodding your head and smiling back at him like you’ve got the best sort of secret you’re about to let him in on. “Of course. Come on, I’ll show you to your seat. I know just the person for you.”

-

“Joel, this is my niece–”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” All the sass in the world and a scarred eyebrow to boot. 

“Ellie,” you say nice and slow, voice soothing as if trying to calm a wild banshee on the verge of revolt, it makes him smile a small smile, “We’re gonna be nice. You promised this morning.”

“Ugh, fine,” she drops her head back on her neck, and he can see the whites of her eyes flash as she rolls them as far back as they can surely go. “Stick me with the dinosaur, what do I care?” Christ, he mutters under his breath, trying to hide his scoff of a laugh with a rough cough. He turns his head to rub his chin against the hill of his shoulder, running a hand over his whiskered face. 

“Ellie– Mom said you can’t go to the sleepover tonight if you aren’t nice. Right?” You try and reason with her. 

“Fine. Whatever – nice.” And she flashes a big old, saccharine grin, wagging her eyebrows at you. 

“Okay,” you turn back to him, bringing your hands together in a soft clap beneath your chin and giving him a small and painfully sweet little smile – worried and probably a little afraid for him. He shakes his head, “It’s alright, we’ll be okay,” he says low, distracted by the sight of your small hands, fine and delicate looking, and the dainty gold necklace that sits at the hollow of your throat, a little golden pendant of your initial. 

You nod your head slowly, turn back to give the kid, Ellie, one more stern look, and then turn to walk away, leaving him to face her alone, and no, he most definitely does not glance at your ass as you walk away from him.

He turns back to look at the kid, and she rolls her eyes again, turning back to flip open the book she’s got infront of her on the lunch table, a one Will Livingston’s No Pun Intended: Volume Too. 

He snorts a little, sighs and settles into the cramped bench made for a child, thick thighs barely squeezing into the space between the table’s edge and the seat, knees bumping the underside. “Well aren’t you a pleasant one.”

“Yeah, a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. What’s your problem?”

“Jesus, kid. How old are you?”

“Thirteen. How old are you?”

“Forty eight.”

“Old.”

“Yeah.”

“So, why'd you get stuck with the leftovers? Where's your kid?”

He clears his throat, “Uh well, she– she’s not here anymore. Or I mean– she doesn’t go to school here anymore. She died. A while ago.”

“Oh, shit.” She’s quiet for a beat, looking down at the open page of the book, It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope. It’ll still be stationary. “That sucks, man. I'm sorry.”

He supposes the correct response is: “Thank you,” he nods his head awkwardly, still unaccustomed to going through the motions of having to tell people and accept condolences. He doesn’t think it’ll ever be something he gets used to. 

“I think…” she tilts her head side to side, letting the thought slide between her ears, flips to the next page, I walked into my sister’s room and tripped on a bra. It was a booby trap. “That my dad is dead, or at least a dead beat or something,” she snickers. “Don’t know. My mom never talks about him.”

Dead or a dead beat, he mutters, shaking his head, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s hard– being a parent, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah… hardest thing in the world–”

“Is it like – like weird… to not be one anymore?”

He feels his stomach drop out from under him, coughs roughly, “Dunno… I guess– I guess in ways I still feel like a parent. Think I’ll always feel like that. But in other ways, yes, it’s… weird.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense. You don’t forget how stuff feels, right?”

“Yeah, you don’t forget how stuff feels.”

“Do you like space?” she asks suddenly, very seriously, knocking her head to the side, looking up at him with big, baleful, hazel eyes. His heart twists in his chest.

“Sure, yeah. Space is alright.”

And then another seeming one eighty: “If you could do anything you wanted, where would you go? What would you do?”

“Don’t know, never really thought about it. Maybe… an old farmhouse, some land, a ranch.”

“Cool. What kind?”

He shakes his head, Jesus, I don’t know… “Sheep. I would raise sheep.” She nods, doubtful, unimpressed look on her face, and he frowns at the look, “They’re quiet, do what they’re told.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. So, just you and a bunch of sheep. Romantic,” she says sarcastically. 

“What about you? What would you do?”

She points a single finger up towards the ceiling, ah, space… “Probably because I’ve always been here, never left Austin, single mom and all, ya know– I’ve read everything I could in the school library… Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell. But you know who my favorite is?”

He could understand her on this. He felt, too often, like he was still right where she’d left him. “Sally Ride,” he says, of course.

“Sally fuckin’ Ride!” She slaps her hands down on the table, “Best astronaut name ever,” Shakes her head, whistling through her teeth appreciatively. 

He nods his head, yeah, figures. “So, your aunt…” and he feels a hot flush spread over the tops of his cheekbones, real smooth, Joel. At least he’d waited this long. 

“She’s my mom’s sister. She’s great. The three of us live together – kind of like my second mom, I guess. Or like they take turns being mom and dad. We’ve always been together.”

“That’s great, kid. She’s great. She– she was my daughter’s teacher, I’ve known her for a while now.”

“Yeah, she really is. I punched this girl last year,” she says way too excitedly, “Bethany,” rolls her eyes, “For being a huge dick, man, like seriously, she was. And she got me out of it. Backed me up with the principal, Mr. Kwong. No one else would’ve stuck up for me that way.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Seems like her style–”

“Protective,” she snickers.

“Yeah–” 

“And good. Her and my mom, they’re a unit, the three of us. Don’t know, I’ve never seen anyone take care of each other the way they do. Sometimes…” she looks away a little shyly, “I misbehave,” she says slowly, “Like the fighting. For no reason, I guess. And I know it worries them. But I’m trying to be better, not fight as much. My friend Riley, she’s a good influence. She stops me when I get too riled up.”

“I reckon it’s a lot easier said than done, but the fact that you’re trying to be good is what counts, is what I’d say. I’m sure being thirteen is difficult,” he says a little sarcastically, but giving her the approximation of a small, warm smile.

“Fuck you, man,” she laughs, “It’s difficult as shit.” It hits him then, suddenly, that the kid just needs someone to talk to, someone other than perhaps her mother or her aunt who she knows love and worry for her so much. A third, impartial party. Joel had come here today and been able to be that for her, and as inconsequential as it may seem, after all he’s lived through, it’s everything to him. 

The teachers and school administrators begin the process of handing out the breakfast: pancakes and bacon and sausage and fruit, and Ellie tells him about her book, full of terrible puns he pretends to frown at but also can’t really help but laugh at with her, and about a comic she loves Savage Starlight. Endure and survive, she tells him, is the motto, and he can’t help but think the idea is far reaching and significant in its truth. They sit and talk and laugh together, and it’s easy, this surly kid who pretends at being angry, hiding her charm with a potty mouth and a scowl, but who’s really nothing but sweet. It makes his chest ache and his throat go tight. So much so, that after a while he needs to excuse himself. He tells her he’s going to the restroom and runs off like a coward, the devil and his memories on his heels to take a few deep breaths, a moment alone to collect himself. 

He rushes out of the cafeteria, bursting through the double doors and out into the hallway, scurrying to find a lone corner to hide himself and his shame and grief away in. He makes it to a shadowed alcove at the mouth of an empty hallway of classrooms and presses his hands to the concrete blocks of the wall, painted a soft blue color. He stares at the pockets in the aggregate and tries to take deep breaths, feels the air pass through his lungs, inflate his belly, and then back out, transformed into the world as something else. Sometimes he wishes he had the ability to transform his grief into something else – a non-memory, perhaps. Sometimes he wishes he could forget the whole thing, a terrible, selfish, disgusting thought. But pain makes terrible creatures out of us sometimes, and Joel has existed in a pool of such pain these past five hundred and sixty seven days that sometimes it’s difficult to recognize himself anymore, his desires, his goals, if he even has those anymore. Like he’d said to the kid, it’s a lot easier said than done, but the fact that you’re trying to be good is what counts, and he was trying so very hard to be good, better. 

“Joel?” That soft voice again, a shiver claws its way down his spine, and he shakes his head at the wall, letting his hot, pinched eyes fall closed. 

He coughs, trying to clear his throat, “M’fine. Just needed a second–” Coughs again. And then he feels that small hand from before, at the small of his back. You rest there, gifting him that brief, comforting touch, and he reaches behind himself to clasp you around the wrist, keep you there with him, silent for a moment while he tries and fails to collect himself. His fingers wrap entirely around your wrist and something different and hot and alive flutters deep in his belly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it. I’m just– It’s overwhelming being here. I’m sorry. I’m okay,” he rambles. 

“It’s okay, Joel. Just take your time.” Your voice is too soft and gentle for a hard and broken thing like him. 

“She’s a good kid,” he tries and fails to keep his voice steady, comes out all hiccupped and cracked instead, and he feels you step closer, not touching him anywhere else, but he can feel the heat of you against his back. 

“She is,” you whisper.

“S’got a fuckin’ mouth on her.”

“Yeah…” You try and laugh, fail.

He cracks and splinters: “I didn’t think it would be like this coming back here… seeing you,” voice breaking, “She was sick for so long, and I knew she didn’t want to leave me. I knew she was so fucking tired, but she kept holding on just for me. And I told her it was okay, I told her to go and that I’d find her again one day, and now I don't know who I am or what I’ve become, and all I can think about every single day is that if she saw me now I worry she wouldn't recognize me anymore.”

“You’re trying, Joel. That's all that matters. I know you are. I can see it now even just here today, you being here–”

“I wish I could see her smile again, just once–” he cuts you off, not really listening. His ears filled with static noise, chest heaving. Your other hand comes to his flank, and it’s too much: this place, your touch, the kid, all of it, all of his memories and all of his grief, and he shouldn’t have come here today. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and for a second, right before he pushes you away, he squeezes your wrist tightly, as tight as he can without really hurting you, lets the heat of your skin burn him, and then lets go of you, harshly shaking you off. 

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have come here today, I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”

“Joel–”

“Tell Ellie I’m sorry, but I have to go.” And like a fucking coward, like a man his daughter’d be ashamed of, he leaves, runs away from you and the memory of her and another child who needs something he is not equipped to give. 

He listens to the sound of your voice calling after him, and he is nothing but sorry and nothing but too much of a man he wishes he’d never been made into. 

-

You’re on your second margarita when he walks in. Trailing his brother, serious, sullen look on his handsome face. When you’d seen him this morning, after all that time, after the last time which had been so painful and so sad and so full of regret for the circumstance of it, you’d felt like your heart was about to burst through your chest. You thought about him so often, about her, more often, probably, than was warranted or healthy, but the experience of having a child such as that in your care, such a special little person, and having to witness the extinguishing of such a bright flame… Well, calling it a tragedy was entirely inadequate in the face of all it truly was. 

Anna was kind of dating the bartender that worked here, and with Ellie away at a slumber party tonight, the two of you’d decided to have a girl’s night out that you were almost certain was going to turn into a slumber party for Anna with her bartender, Ben, as well. 

You eye the two brothers as they find their spot at the far end of the bar, watch as Tommy, you remember she used to talk about him all the time, flags down Ben to order them two beers, appreciating the way Joel pulls on the glass bottle with that soft, frowning mouth of his. 

He’s so sad. There’s no other word for it. Sad and hurt and made into a sort of tragedy of a man that you wish desperately, and even though it’s not your place, that you could do something to help. The sound of him choking back tears this morning, the sight of him laughing with Ellie, she’d warmed to him immediately which was a miracle all on its own, and he is, you think, a man with so much tenderness to give that has nowhere to go now. And it is nothing but the gravest and saddest sort of tragedy. 

“Hi, Joel.” Eventually, you muster up enough courage, after one more margarita, to approach him. You think that, perhaps, he’ll be annoyed to see you again, another reminder of his past and the difficulty of the morning, but you need to just talk to him one more time. To thank him again for being so brave, to reassure him that he’d done good. Tommy’d abandoned him to brave the waters of the bar a while ago, and he turns in his stool at the sound of your voice to peer over his shoulder. You love his beard, thick and lush and so soft looking, his thick, dark curls, slightly threaded with silver at the temples, and his ridiculously broad back. He’s wearing a dark green button down that brings out the colors in his eyes, tight around the swell of his thick biceps. He’s gorgeous and so fucking hot, and he makes you feel silly with nerves and fizzy bubbles deep in your belly. 

“Hey–” he clears his throat, says your name softly, with a hint of apology. “Hey.”

“I saw you come in earlier, and I– I just wanted to come over and say hi and thank you again for this morning. It was a real nice thing of you to come today.” You try and swallow the shyness and nerves in your voice, but you’re pretty sure you fail spectacularly, can just picture Anna’s mocking giggles as she watches you twist your fingers and fidget in front of the man. 

“You already thanked me,” he says gruffly, “And besides there’s nothing really to thank me for.”

“I know, but again, or anyways,” you stutter, “And there is.” There’s absolutely no reason for these nerves, you know this man, have known him for years, “It was a good thing of you to do. Ellie really liked you–”

“You gave her my apologies, right?” He cuts you off, a thing akin to desperation and worry coloring his tone. 

“I did, don’t worry. She understood.” He looks like he wants to ask what excuse you gave her but forces himself into silence, looking down at his hands in his lap sullenly. “I don’t know… I just wanted to say thank you again.”

“Alright. And I’m sorry too, about earlier – after. I was an ass.”

“You weren’t. I shouldn’t have gone after you, should’ve given you your privacy. I’m sorry. I was nosey.”

He shakes his head, looks up at you with those hazel eyes, “No, I wanted you to come after me.” His voice is rough, like it costs him something to admit this truth to you, “Thank you.”

You have to look away, glancing back at Anna who gives you a wide, cheesy grin and a thumbs up, followed by a much more inappropriate hand gesture. You roll your eyes at her, a hot flush burning your cheeks. “That’s your brother, right? Tommy?” You turn back to him. 

“Yeah, it is… You wanna sit?” He gestures to Tommy’s empty stool. 

“She used to talk about him all the time.” You take the offered seat, nervous for a second that he’ll resent you bringing her up, react badly, but he gives a soft laugh, looking after his brother. “Yeah…” he says slowly, “They were real close.”

“That’s really nice,” you say sincerely. You catch Ben’s eye, and he nods his head at you, turning to get the two of you another round. “You two having a boys night out?”

He gives a short laugh, bringing his beer to his mouth again, pressing the lip of the bottle to his smile, “Guess he was just trying to do the same thing you are right now, distract me, make sure I’m alright or somethin’,” a quick shake of his head, and then takes another drag, and you watch the thick muscles of his neck work as he swallows. You have to look away from the sight, cross your knees together tightly, pulling down the hem of your wrap dress to keep it from riding too high. 

Ben comes around at that moment to place two shots in front of the two of you. “Here you go, baby girl,” a wink and that smarmy little smirk that makes Anna lose her head, for some inexplicable reason, “Tequila for you and your friend here.”

“Baby girl?” Joel eyes you, as you push the shot towards him. 

You roll your eyes, “Ignore him.” He takes the shot from you, fingers brushing yours briefly and you swear you feel a slight jerk move through him. You want him to want you so badly, you think suddenly. 

“Shall we?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, and he gives you a soft laugh. 

“Seems I don’t got much of a choice,” before clinking his glass against yours, touching the base of it to the bar’s surface, and then shooting it back, not even an insinuation of a grimace as he swallows the strong alcohol, while your face puckers ridiculously. 

Gross. You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut and sucking on the lime Ben had left also. “He sweet on you or somethin’?” 

“No, not at all.”

“Huh, not so sure about that,” he eyes your sister’s boytoy almost sourly, and you get brave or reckless or something, all of a sudden, when you press right up to his ear, your breasts against his arm, emboldened by the liquor or the soft hazel of his eys, or the breadth of his shoulders when you whisper right into the peach fuzz covered shell of his ear, “He’s fucking my sister. Not me.”

He freezes, a soft, masculine sound rumbling deep in his chest before he clears his throat. He sets the glass down, and then slowly turns to face you, gripping your knee briefly as he spins on the barstool to bring your legs between the space of his spread thighs. He’s so thick everywhere. 

“Is that so?” The place on your legs where he’d gripped you burns and throbs and the other, softer place between your thighs drips and aches. You nod your head at him, temple resting in your palm propped on the edge of the bar. Ben walks by again, snagging your attention from Joel’s molten gaze, “Gimme permission to come over tonight?” he says as he passes. 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh after him, and you swear you feel the whisper of Joel’s touch on the curve of your bare knee again. When you turn to look back at him he’s staring down at you, a flush sitting high on his cheekbones. 

There’s something slightly bold or desperate or sad stirring inside of you, and you need to hear the sound of his voice. You wish you could make things better for him. You wish that perpetual look of grief didn’t sit so deeply embedded in his gaze all the time now. 

“You know that feeling of knowing someone, but not knowing them?” He asks you suddenly. “You and I, we’ve known each other for years. You were Sarah’s teacher, and she talked about you all the time – her last teacher – and I felt like I knew you, even though I didn’t really, not in a way that mattered, not in the way I would have liked, if I’m bein’ honest, but we knew each other peripherally. And I wanted you, all that time ago,” he laughs a boyishly shy little huff of laughter interrupting the rush of his confessed words, the crests of his cheeks flushing bright, “In that way you want someone you don't know but see all the time and want to know better. And now, it’s like… like we’re meeting again for the first time, but in a different way, in a way we’ve never met before, and yet you know so much about me already. You knew my daughter, spent time with her, you cared about her – it’s… I don’t really know what it is I’m trying to say, to be honest. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, another unsurely shy laugh, and you reach out to set your hand softly on his knee, rubbing the thick, muscular ball of it. It’s okay, you nod and shake your head at him at the same time. Confused also, with what you’re trying to convey, but knowing you want him to continue anyway. “You knew me before in a different way, and I’m not that man anymore. And I don’t know who I am now, or I’m beginning to relearn, but I’m not there just yet,” He trails off, and then softly: “Have you ever not known yourself?”

You tilt your chin slowly, watching the slow rove of the leftover tequila in the glass as you roll the base of it along the grain of the bar. “I’m… I’m not sure. Would it be very naive or arrogant or shallow to say, no? That I’ve always known myself, that even when I was lost or afraid, I was still certain of who I was, or at the very least, who I wanted to be? Like… like sometimes when you’re uncertain of the next step, or– or of what it is that you want to do next, but you still know the direction, maybe? Or what ending you’d like?” You give a brief huff of laughter, not really meaning to laugh, but expelling the air anyway, glancing down at where you’re still gripping his knee. He lays his own large paw over your much finer hand, calluses on his palm that you can feel on the back of your knuckles. “I think now we’re both, maybe, not making sense. But I think that sometimes happiness is only the peripheral thought, the peripheral ending, like obviously we all always want to end up happy. I was always open to the journey, open to the different avenues my life could take, but all I’ve ever wanted was for me and Anna, and then later, Ellie, to be okay, to be happy. Nothing else matters after that. The way I get there, the way I’d make it happen never mattered. Only that, in the end, we’re okay.”

“No… I know exactly what you mean.” His brow caves in on itself, “I know exactly what you mean because I failed at that. That was all I ever wanted too, and look at what I ended up with. She’s gone, I failed her.”

“But you didn’t, Joel,” you say with all the fervor you can pull from your heart, all the certainty you absolutely know that he’s wrong with. You bring your other hand to his other knee, leaning forward to make absolutely sure he’s understanding. “You can’t honestly say that. You’re right, I did know her, and that little girl was an exceedingly happy child. If anything, you were nothing but a triumph, and you need to hold on to that, and think of it every single day for the rest of your life. You were triumphant in that girl. Never forget it.  There is not even a shadow of failure in the memory of that child and the life she led.” And this does not seem like the appropriate environment to be having such a conversation, but you push on. His hand tightens over yours almost painfully, his blunt rough nails digging into your soft skin. “When she died – was she scared? Or peaceful?”

“She was so fucking brave,” he chokes. “She was so fucking brave. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in that heart. I’d swallowed all of it. I’d swallowed all the fear either of us could ever carry. She’s the one that held me while I fell to pieces. While I lied through my fucking teeth and told her it would be okay, that I’d be okay, that she could rest, she could go. And held me and tried to soothe me and told me she’d see me again one day, but not too soon. Eight years old, dying and comforting her father, cracking jokes. She was so fucking brave, and I’d promised her that we’d both be – that we’d both have courage and both get out of it, and in the end, I ended up being nothing but a goddamn liar.” And there are tears in his eyes, and maybe you shouldn’t and maybe you’re overstepping and maybe it’s the alcohol, but you lean forward in your barstool, that boldness and that desperation and that sadness pushing you along so that your knees are sliding further between his spread thighs to wrap your arms around his neck to hug him tightly to yourself, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, big hand coming up to cup the back of your head. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, even though you know the words are redundant. Even though he’s probably heard them an antagonizing amount of times. You are so sorry, and you have to tell him that you wish you could help him in some other way, that he’d not have to bear this alone, that he’d never have had to live it at all. I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m sorry that you lost your daughter, and I’m sorry you’re alone now, and I’m sorry we didn’t know each other better before, but maybe we can know each other now. I’d like to know you now more than anything else.

You feel the rattle of his wide back as he takes in a shaky breath, and you slide your hand soothingly up the broad expanse to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he laughs wetly into the warm space beneath your jaw, rolling his forehead against your shoulder, “I’m killing the mood,” and you feel the wet press of lips to the soft spot beneath your ear, right at the vulnerable hollow. Your heart stutters, and you shiver a syrupy sweet little jitter down the line of your vertebrae in the clutch of his arms, letting your head fall to the side to open yourself further to him, you smell good, whispered into your skin, but the two of you are sitting at the center of the crowded bar, industriously dedicated patrons hooting and hollering around you, and you can feel Anna’s nosey gaze zeroed into the back of your head so you pull away, letting your hand on the back of his head drag around along the edge of his jaw, fingernails pulling through the soft whiskers of his beard so that you can feel the snick, snick, snick of each bristle beneath your nail. 

“Let’s go outside,” you whisper, made only of boldness and desperation and want now. Wetness pooling at the center of you. 

He pulls back, and his hand slides to grip your jaw in his wide, rough hand. The architecture of you feels inconsequential and without strength or steel in his grasp. “For what?” Voice serious but also knowing, also provoking. 

“I wanna kiss you.” Might as well be honest now that you’ve got his hands on you.

“I think that if we go out there, I’m gonna do more than just kiss you. You prepared for that?”

“Yes, let’s go,” and you’re already pulling him out of his barstool before the words are even fully out. His hand goes to your elbow to steady you as your feet meet the ground, and you can’t help but give him a small laugh. “Are you okay?” Just making sure.

“Yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart. Are you?” His gaze is so warm. 

“Yes.” And you can’t help but smile widely up at him. He gives you a huff of laugh through a half crooked smile that looks a little bit like the sliver of the moon when it’s nothing but a silver crescent in the sky, hand wrapping entirely around your bicep to tug you closer. You feel a little bit out of control when you slide your hand over his belly, and his eyes go immediately dark and molten, rubbing slowly up his chest. He makes a deep, rough sound, low in his throat. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He pulls you along behind him, and as you’re making your way together out the door, you hear the sound of Anna whooping and whistling loudly behind you right before the bar door slams shut. 

He tugs you along behind him, and then passes you gently in his hands to walk in front of him as he weaves through the crowded parking lot, his wide chest, smoldering hot through his clothes, pressed up against your back, big hands wrapped around the soft of your hips. You feel him nosing into the curtain of your hair, smelling you and humming appreciatively, and you realize that he’s steering you towards the back of the parking lot, his familiar truck tucked into the far dark corner, and you twist, suddenly, in his arms, walking backwards and reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands go to the small of your back, bunching your dress in his hands tightly so that you feel the humid night air against the uppermost backs of your thighs. The look in his eyes is so dark, so wanting, and he presses you tight against his chest, your breasts squished up against the hard planes of him. He’s not even looking where he’s going, and your feet are barely touching the ground anymore as you tiptoe backwards, guided by his embrace. One of his hands comes up to grip the curve of your jaw, and then you feel the side of the truck against your back. He hoists you higher up towards his mouth, “I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, and before you can even think about saying yes, yes, please, finally, he’s swallowing your breath in his mouth, eyes still slightly open to watch you as he does it, pushing his tongue into the wet gleam of you to taste everything you so desperately want to offer him. He nips at your full bottom lip, then laps at it soothingly, and you moan for him, head falling back on your neck to open further for him, cradled now in the palm of his hand. Your hands smooth down the sides of his neck and then curl to scrape your nails down his stomach, and he groans into you, one thick thigh shoving between your knees. One of his palms slides over your hip to grip the curve of your ass, the other coming up, gentle yet unyielding, to circle your throat and tip your chin up to him as he pulls back to look down at you. The hand on your ass tips your pelvis into his and pulls your core along the broad expanse of his thigh so that your pussy slowly rides the hard muscle, once, twice. “Joel–” you gasp. 

“Back seat,” he orders, tugging the truck door open and hoisting you inside. Are you really about to let this man fuck you in the back seat of his truck in a crowded parking lot? Yes, yes, you are. He follows in after you, and then slams the door shut behind him, encasing the both of you in this quiet, paused moment before he’s pulling you forward to straddle his lap, spreading his legs wide to widen your own stance perched atop him. You listen to the sound of your panting breaths as he runs his hands over your curves, squeezing and kneading as he goes, and you plant your palms on his strong chest, smoothing them down over his belly, reaching the line of his belt to tuck them inside, he growls low, leans forward to lick at your throat and you feel the tug of his fingers at the tie of your wrap dress, then the pull of the fabric as he bares you for his eyes. You pop the first few buttons of his shirt as his wet mouth moves down the thrumming line of your neck, over the wing of your clavicle to the tops of your breasts where he pulls back to take you in. You’re wearing a soft pink lace bra and a matching thong, and as his eyes move down the length of you, the fire already smoldering within seems to ricochet up to a burning inferno. There is something about the look in his eyes, compared to before, compared to the usual look, that is even more thrilling than just the fact of him gazing upon your naked body. He’s always so serious, melancholy and sad and straightforward, in a way. But taking him in like this, the way he’s looking at you now like he wants nothing more than to devour you, to push inside of you, it makes it all the headier. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, look at you,” he murmurs, smoothes his hand over your breasts, thumb catching and flicking at your nipple, down the soft swell of your belly, stopping at the little bow at the front of your thong. He pushes the sleeve of your dress over one shoulder and tugs you forwards, you feel him lift the back of your dress over the curve of your bottom, his hand following the path of bared skin, taking in the tiny scap of lace disappearing between your asscheeks, and he makes a breathy, desperate sound, “Where the fuck are the rest of your panties, little girl?” He pinches the lush of your ass, smoothes his hand down and around to cup you between your legs, and you’re sure he can feel the soaking wet there because you listen to the sound of his gasp, and then he’s pressing there, seeking out your clit and rolling gentle circles to the swollen, throbbing nub. You run your hands up his chest into his hair, gripping there, pressing your nose into the thick curls to take in the scent of him and then running them down the heavy swell of his biceps. He’s so masculine, hard in all the places you’re soft, and wet, for him. His other hand grips your hip to pull you closer, rolling you onto the thick line of his erection, and oh God, he’s big. You can tell just like this, thick and long. Your hand moves to his belt buckle, pulling at the leather and the zipper of his jeans, and then you’re slipping your fingers beneath his boxers and wrapping around the thick heft of him. “Jesus, fuck–” he gasps. 

You fist him tightly, squeezing at the thick root of his cock and sliding up to the fat head to twist there gently. His fingers move beneath the line of your panties, finally making contact with your bare skin. 

“Fucking wet little cunt. Shit, you’re soaked for me, baby.” All you can do is moan as you pull him out of his jeans. He’s heavy in your palm and your mouth waters as you take in the sight of his big cock. Thick and long, wide, drooling head an angry red verging on purple. He hooks the gusset of your panties to the side and slides the underside of the shaft through your swollen lips, pressing the fat tip to your clit, and then sliding along your slit to catch softly at your opening. “Joel, please–” you moan. The head of his cock catches again and again, and you’re so wet, coating his thick length in your slick. He reaches to pull both cups of your bra down, exposing your breasts to his gaze and when his mouth latches onto one peaked nipple, sucking sharply, his other hand wrapping around the heavy weight of your other breast you cry out, fingernails digging into his thick shoulders. You use your grip on his shoulders to drag yourself along the length of his shaft while he sucks and nips at your breasts, pulling back to gently slap the full side of one, sending a jerking shiver through you while he watches how it jiggles and sways for him. “Shit, you’re too fuckin’ pretty,” he groans, and you’re about to come just from this, just the feeling of his thick cock sliding through the lips of your sex, and you tell him so, wet mouth presses to the arch of his ear, you tell him you’re about to come, but he changes the angle, presses his hips up and then the tip of his cock is breaching the dripping mouth of your cunt, stretching you wide to take him and you both pant and gasp, burying your face in his neck as one wide hand presses at the base of your spine, forcing you to take more of that impossible length. You feel the pinch and snap of your thong around your hips as he rips the scrap of lace off of you, and you think you must shake your head or something, make some soft sound because he tuts his tongue in a gentle reprimand, “All of it, baby. The whole thing.” He squeezes your breast, strums at your nipple, presses a feather light kiss to the hinge of your jaw, and you feel your cunt flutter around him, sucking him deeper so that he can wedge that thick cock further inside of you. “Yeah… Fuck, yeah. Just like that, good girl. You asked for this, sweet girl.” You hitch and sob into his neck, clawing at his shoulders as he finally forces you down all the way onto him, buried balls deep in your weeping, fluttering pussy. “Now you’ve gotta take the whole thing, no cryin’” He sounds like he’s spitting the words through clenched teeth, struggling to get them out despite the demand of them. “You’re doing so good,” he whispers, “Taking my big cock in this tiny little cunt.” He kisses your ear, your throat, pulls back to suck on your nipples, all while his hands on your ass start to rock you on his length, working you loose and wet and pliant. 

“Fuck– fuck, Joel–” 

“I know, I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? But you can take it– deep breath, you can take it.” He fucks up into you, holding your hips steady as he feeds you his cock over and over again, and you drip down onto his balls and the leather seat beneath. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Tell me–”

“It’s so– it’s so good. Wanted it so bad–” you slur, wet cheek pressed to his shoulder, you mouth at his neck, little teeth digging into the thick line of muscle so that he’s growling, thrusting up quick and a little painful into your cunt, tip punching right at your cervix. 

“Lemme see you– I’ve gotta see you,” he says suddenly and presses you back. You reach back to plant your hands on his spread knees, arching your back to present yourself to him. His gaze is almost manic, licking over your skin, your bouncing tits as he fucks up into you, the swell of your tummy glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, down finally to the place where he’s fucking in and out of your swollen, blushed cunt, stretched obscenely around the base of him. “You’re so goddamned lucky we’re in a car right now,” he growls. He jerks you back into him, both hands squeezing your ass in each palm and rolling you hard and fast onto his impaling cock, your swollen clit presses into his pelvis on every thrust in, and you feel your cunt pull tight and then go loose as you start to come around him. Yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes – just like that. His cock kissing your g-spot with every press inside. You sob into his neck, pull at his hair, scratch at his shoulders and neck as you gush around him. 

He surges up then, orgasm not entirely abated, and flips you over onto your back, laying you down on the truck’s bench. He pulls his dripping cock out of your still grasping clutch to kneel down on the floorboard, hulking form entirely too large to fit in the tight space, and drags the broad, flat of his tongue through your drenched sex, tasting the echoes and throbs of your climax, sucking your clit and your come into his mouth while you sob up into the roof of his truck. He pushes your knees up to your chest, displaying you for himself entirely and devours you. “Fuck, there ain’t enough room in this fuckin’ truck to eat your cunt the way I need to,” his accent suddenly heavier, a sharper twang cutting off the end of his words, lost to the taste of you and the feel of you and the scent of you. You lean up onto your elbows, sweaty face burning bright hot with shyness as you take in the sight of his mouth wrapped around your clit, lapping at your leaking sex. He looks up at you, reaches up to wrap one hand around your breast, one of your legs is hanging down the length of his back over his shoulder, the other hooked at the bend of his elbow to keep you open and spread wide for him, and the two of you hold gazes for a moment. His eyes flash with something… different to desire or lust, something more in tune with whatever it is that’s happening here between the two of you right now, something more than just a quick fuck. You whisper his name, and his eyes flash again, predatory and desperate, and he’s pushing up, the wet sound of his mouth unlatching from your pussy and crawling back up onto the seat bench, pressing his slick wet mouth to yours and licking into you, sloppy. “Taste–” he orders, he pulls back, fists the root of his cock and feeds it back into your gaping cunt, “That’s what it tastes like when you come for me.” His voice is a growl, something like a commandment or a promise, something else that hums beneath the mere words, something that says this is happening again, I need this to happen again, I’ve wanted this longer than I can say. He fucks into the very end of you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, let him maneuver and manhandle you to his liking so that both of your ankles lay limply over his shoulders, pressed entirely in half for him to pound into you. 

“Open your fucking eyes,” he pants. “Look at me,” he begs. You do, and you watch a bead of sweat roll slowly down his temple, over the curve of his jaw to the point of his chin, and then drip and splash down onto the swell of your breast, seep into your skin. 

He’s so deep like this, right at the heart of you, and it hurts and it feels good and you can’t help but think about the next time already, hope that this can happen again. “Yes, Joel,” you gasp, “Please, don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” He grits, lifting one hand to hold on to the edge of the window above your head, the other gripping at your ass to pull you onto him harder. “Yeah, just like that– Taking me so well, baby. Taking the whole thing like such a good girl.” He’s so big, maybe too big, and he pounds into your cunt, forces you to take the entire thing, thick thighs bracketing your frame, cock punching at your womb over and over again. You feel cock drunk, Joel drunk, and you turn your face to press into the back of the seat crying, telling him you’re about to come again. 

“God, yes, yes, you’re such a good girl. Come on my cock again, one more time for me.” His thrusts speed up, harsher, stronger and he’s saying your name while you sob out his, while you leak around him. “Hey,” he grips your jaw, gives your head a little shake, “Hey, baby– you gotta tell me where. Where can I come? Inside? Can I come inside?” It sounds, a little bit, like he’s beginning. 

You nod your head, yes, gaze delirious, unfocused, the swell of his anchoring bicep is so thick and distracting, and you start to milk his thrusting cock inside of you, muscles squeezing tight, fluttering loose – please, please, please, come inside of me, please, I want it so bad. He groans, grits a curse, your name, something that sounds like gratitude, and then he’s filling you, thick cock kicking and jerking and spitting his come right at the mouth of your womb, inciting your own orgasm to throb again, again, harder, deeper. 

-

He drops his head to the damp crook of your shoulder, takes in the heady scent of your sweat and sex, licks a path up the side of your throat. He’s careful not to ask you to bear the full, heavy weight of him, and he pulls his hips back, shivering at the sensitive slide of his spent cock falling from your wet cunt. He sits back, grasps your knees to keep you spread and watches the flutter and clench of your hole as the thick white leak of his spend starts to drool out of you. He gives a low, appreciative hum, and then bends forwards to press his face into your tummy, nuzzling there softly. Your hands come to his hair, panting chest heaving, and he mouths and sucks at the skin of your stomach, the undersides of your breasts as you both catch your breaths. He looks up, then, suddenly, a thought occurring to him, “You’re going to have dinner with me, right?” Voice a little frantic. 

You give him a slow, lovely smile, eyes sparkling, “Think we’ve gone and done things a little out of order here, haven’t we?”

He frowns in mock severity, then presses his face back into your tummy, another soft kiss, and shakes his head slowly, “No,” another kiss, this one to your hip, “Not at all. This morning counts as breakfast together.” He looks up to give you a quick, boyish grin. “How I see it, that’s actually an extreme dedication to order. Breakfast, sex, dinner.”

You sigh, laugh softly, “You know… I’m actually a little hungry right now,” you say contemplatively.

“Burgers? Fries?”

“Milkshake?”

“Well, we’ve gotta have somethin’ to dip ‘em in, right?”

“Of course.” Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him up towards your mouth, “You’re so smart.”

“Very true. You’ve gotta stick with me now, I’ll teach you everything I know.” A kiss, another and another. 

He rests his face back on your belly, looking up at you, and you run the pad of your thumb over the fan of his lashes, and he feels so happy. 

-

It’s been months since then… and still even now, when he looks at you, all he knows is that he’s sure you saved his fucking life. 

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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#vic fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller/reader #Joel Miller smut #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction

[plussizefantasia]

Fluttering Heart

Fluffober Day 13: Soulmates

Kili Durin x f!human!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

AN: OMG! This has definitely been my favorite to write so far. I love Kili with my whole heart and that for sure came out while I was writing. I really want to see about making this a longer series once October ends, if anyone wants to see that leave a comment and let me know.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

The culture of the dwarves is much like their treasure, kept under lock and key. Histories, customs, and traditions all are played very close to the chest of the stubborn race. The only beings who are let in on the secret are those lucky enough to be a fated match. 

There are different names for these matches in every culture, Soulmates, true loves, twin flames. The dwarves called them Ones. To find your One was said to be the best day of your life. At least that is what Kili thought, he wouldn’t know though. He hadn’t met his yet. 

His uncle’s one had been the Hobbit, Bilibo took longer to fall than Thorin but fell just as hard if not harder than the dwarf. The two were very much in love, it was sickening. His mother’s One had been his father, and he doesn’t remember much about their time together. Fee’s One was a lovely lass that had come from the Blue Mountains to try and establish herself as a seamstress under the mountain. 

All of them had told him how wonderful finding their Ones was, even Thorin whose One was not of the race of Dwarf and thusly did not feel the same pull that he had. Thorin had to actually make Bilbo fall in love with him, which amused Kili to no end because of how much their two personalities seemed to clash. 

Kili hates spending time under the mountain now, he loves Erebor and takes pride in the fact that he was one of the brave few who had reconquered it, but everywhere he looked he saw people being happy with something he did not have. 

The feeling went much deeper than those childhood squabbles he had had with Fili when the two pebbles would play together. Jealousy over toys was easily remedied, the ache that had recently taken up residence in Kili’s heart was much more difficult to push aside or fix.

So he had taken to going for walks. He had volunteered himself too many times to be the point of contact for the King of Dale. He had told Thorin it was because he wanted to prove that he could be trusted with matters of diplomacy. He might not be next in line, but he was still a prince and could take care of these things. It was on one of these trips to Dale that Kili met the very person who would change his life.

She was of the race of men and seemed to work in one of the few taverns that housed the nightlife of the town. Kili was in a sort of informal meeting with Bard, his son Bain, and the Captain of the Guard. They were discussing a deal between the two kingdoms where Erebor would provide the army of Dale with iron-forged armor and weapons and in turn, Dale would pledge their allegiance to the kingdom under the mountain in any future battle. Kili couldn’t help but find the humor in the reversal of roles as if the company had not asked and pledged the same things five years ago. This clause was only one of the facets that made up the current peace treaty in the works. It was Kili’s idea to have the meeting in a less tense and stuffy room than they were previously held in. 

“Everybody has to eat Bard, why don’t we eat and talk at the same time? I’m sure we’d all be much more comfortable.” Bard had agreed at the behest of Bain who had laughed and reminded his father of the last time he had had a proper meal. After that, the men had embarked towards Bard’s favorite tavern. And judging by the way he had jovially called out to the man behind the bar, he was at least acquainted with the people who worked there.

Their waitress was a beautiful woman, who had skills like Kili had never seen, and he had been in a lot of taverns. She was able to carry three trays of piping hot food at the same time and at one point he had even seen her stack and move at least twelve pint glasses to a rowdier table towards the back of the establishment. And she did all this with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. 

If only he would actually get to talk to her. The tavern was busy and she seemed to be one of the only other people working besides the man behind the bar and whoever was preparing the food to be served. She was never in the same place for a very long time. After she had gotten their initial order she had placed their pints down and immediately zipped off to fulfill the next request. 

Without the ability to actually talk to her, Kili had to settle for second-hand knowledge. “So what can you tell me about the woman who served us?” Kili asked nobody in particular.

“Why, do you fancy her?” Came Bain’s reply.

“No, but any woman that can carry that much and move that fast without wasting a drop is certainly one I want to get to know.”

“Her name is y/n, She’s apprenticed to Brant, the man who owns this tavern. She arrived in Dale a year or two ago. I think she's from Bree but she's settled here. I think she has an arrangement with him, when he finally retires the place will be hers.” Bard had explained, throwing a somewhat scolding glance at his son. Kili might be young and more carefree than his uncle but he is still a prince and Bard did not wish to offend him.

“Interesting, any idea why she left Bree? It’s quite a long journey to take on your own.” Kili asked. 

“Why don’t you ask her?” A third, much more feminine voice replied. Kili who had not seen her make her way over to their table, had nearly jumped out of his skin. The other men tried and failed to hide their amusement at his predicament. “After all, I’m sure she’d be willing to tell you as long as she didn’t catch you talking about her when she wasn’t around.” She had said all of this with a smile spread across her face and delight in her voice. Kili wasn’t really sure how she felt about his impolite inquiries, but she hadn't chased him out of the establishment with a broom yet, so he thought he was okay.

“I’ve gotten everyone else settled and thought I’d come visit the King, how are you this evening King Bard?” her attention was firmly placed on the King of Dale now, and Kili longed for her piercing gaze to once again land on him.

“I’ve told you, it’s just Bard, all of this King nonsense will just go to my head,”

“Of course King Bard.” She smirked and turned towards the rest of the men. “Anything else I can get you, gentlemen?” With a firm nod at their newest order, she spun and headed back towards the bar.

“I think I’m in love.” Kili had said under his breath. 

“I think it’ll take you much more than that to win her over.” Bain had replied, hearing Kili’s self-confession. “Every time we’re in here I see her turn down men. Granted, most of them are usually drunkards but the principle is all the same.”

Kili was certain that the fluttering in his chest and the feeling of light-headedness had to mean something. And given that both the feelings had started right after she had spoken to him, he was pretty sure he knew what it was. 

“Here you are boys, four more pints and a basket of bread, on the house.” She had placed the basket of bread and little bowls of butter and honey on the table. When she pulled her hand away it bumped into Kili and sent a wave of shocks all the way up his arm.

#plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #fluff #x reader #flufftober #kili durin #kili #thorin #bagginshield #just a little bit #kili x reader #kili the dwarf #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #kili x you #kili x plus size reader #kili durin x reader #hobbit fic

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

what you see, i see (1)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

TW⚠️: teenage gojo is mean, angst, mentions of death

This is a repost in regular font bc people couldn't read the first! There are some changes but they are very minor.

Whenever she closed her eyes she would see where he would go, and see everything he would see, and if she focused she could hear his conversations, and yet only the voices were ever clear while everything in his line of sight was always obscured, tinted dark. Her soulmate was never not wearing sunglasses, but it did nothing to shield her from the horrors he witnessed everyday.

She didn't know what they were- monsters, creatures, or curses (curses is what he called those things) that he saw on the daily basis. She used to worry about him. She would spend sleepless nights wondering if he was okay, but now, she resented him for it. Her mundane life that was full of ordinary things had been turned into an inescapable nightmare.

She could not see those creatures with her own eyes, even when she concentrated on her surroundings. The city was noisy and loud but never terrifying with monsters lurking around every corner and alleyway, but then, she'd close her eyes. Not intentionally, never intentionally anymore, and see a world hidden within her own.

His world. He was unafraid of it and she was deeply afraid of it - the abandoned buildings, the dark alleyways, fighting, blood, ichor, and death; she frightened of it all. She supposed he was brave for being able to face those horrors at all. She knew she could never be able too.

Her world, she wondered, if he thought it was boring, or if it brought him some sort of comfort seeing her life be so normal. A regular routine of school, friends, homework, exams, watching television, going to the library, internet browsing, running errands for her parents bakery, and coffee shops.

No, Gojo Satoru, did not find her world comforting. He did, indeed, find it to be incredibly boring. He was matched with a weak soulmate that couldn't even see curses, much less defend herself against them. How tiring his life would become if he ever met her - always having to save her because she was just so weak. So he never paid her any mind after he realized that. Never searched for her, never even let the thought of her linger for too long on his mind. A weakling like her doesn't have the right to have any of his attention.

Geto Suguru would call him a pompous and narcissistic jerk for not seeking her out, for belittling her, especially when she was right here in Tokyo.

"It's an honor, Satoru," Suguru would tell him, "fate trusts you to keep her safe from harm."

Everytime Satoru would simply fake vomit at his best friends sentiments.

"Do you know how many sorcerers wish for a soulmate?" Suguru would say, "and you're just not going to bother."

"Jealous," Satoru would smirk, "or lonely? You can have her."

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but she was glad she had. She did her best to keep her eyes open after that conversation. If she wasn't worth his time, then Gojo Satoru wasn't worth hers either. Instead, she buried herself in school work, in running for class president, in multiple clubs, and volunteering in shelters, and cleaning up trash in public spaces. Her school transcript would be so stellar, so perfect she would be able to go to college abroad.a place so far away that the chance of ever running into him would be next to impossible.

It was a late night for her again and this time, she blamed her soulmate. She didn't care that he had made a building collapse in itself two days ago, or that middle schoolers were fawning over Satoru as they, clearly, didn't know he was rotten on the inside, and she, absolutely, did not care that he was having a fun beach day. She cared that he hadn't slept in three days, and now, she was a victim of his insomnia.

Why couldn't he go to sleep already? She was tired of closing her eyes seeing common beige hotel walls as he remained ever vigilant on his surroundings. She was seeing too much and nothing, all at the same time; it was exhausting. She didn't know when she fell asleep, but she did, still she didn't dream. All she could see was a dimly lit hotel room and a brief darkness everytime he blinked.

It was a miracle she woke up on time for school in the morning. Her eyes were heavy and it was a struggle to focus on any of her lectures but she refused to rest her eyes. Her stupid soulmate would not get any reprieve from her. Not when she was deprived of basic rest last night.

Of course, she would naturally blink only to see him cheerfully chatting on a plane. Whatever, her class was far more important. Anything in her life was far more important than he ever could be.

She tilted her head up to look up at the clock.

15:00:00

Class was almost over.

She blinked.

Satoru was complaining about having to take care of a 'brat'. She rolled her eyes and focused on the chalkboard at the front of the class.

15:02:08

She blinked again.

Blue had overtaken her vision as it pulled cobblestones and buildings into the vibrant cool hued color - forcing the buildings to collapse in on themselves as nothing but ruin was left around Satoru.

She opened her eyes. It didn't matter, she knew one thing about him for sure, he never loses.

15:02:15

She stilled. A dark chill consumed her as her body began to become numb. She continued to copy down notes from the chalkboard but she couldn't feel the pen in her palm. She dug her nails into her palm next and still, she felt nothing.

Her eyes widened. Death, this was how she imagined death would feel like. A silent sob went raked through her body - she hadn't noticed it before, how her heartbeat had been mirroring Satoru's until now. An aching emptiness filled her like a part of her had been ripped from her.

She covered her mouth in an effort to stop her cries. Her vision blurred with tears and one right after the other, they fell, seeping into her notebook and smudging the black ink.

Could Satoru see her now in his final moments? She sucked in a harsh breath. What about the girl he was protecting? She had only seen her briefly but she needed protection, did she not? That's why he was there to keep the girl safe.

"______" someone was saying her name, and then, a soft, gentle shake, "______, what's wrong? What happened?

Soulmates were so rare, so so so rare most people didn't believe in them. They would call her crazy, a liar, an attention seeking romantic, so she forced herself to wipe the tears from her cheeks, and said: "My mother just texted me," she hiccupped, "my grandmother died." She turned to face the teacher, "I'm sorry for disrupting class."

Then, the bell rang - loud and piercing, and the day had continued onward as if nothing had happened. As if her world hadn't just been turned upside down, as if the cold, icy grip of death wasn't looming over her - watching her every move, until the grim reaper, finally deemed to snuff her out one day as well.

A hot summer day and she was shivering cold.

Part 2: where you go, i go

Part 3: you know i adore

Part 4: i'm crazier for you

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

#gojo satoru #jjk #jujustu kaisen #teen gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #hidden inventory arc #spoilers for hidden inventory #gojo is mean but barely makes a cameo #so does geto #part one??? #probably the only part #have fun reading #this is not proofread #jjk soulmate au #soulmate au #gojo soulmate au

[bonefall]

Is there a list of all the jobs the cats can have?

I gotta make a whole thingie on this but here's a short list of the new job expansions, as a quick summary before I get around to it;

All heads of the patrol expansions report to the deputy. Patrol expansions also have apprentice chores that need to be carried out-- like dishwashing for Kitchen Patrol.

Official Jobs: Tasks that a cat can volunteer for or be assigned to for the day.

Kitchen Patrol Tasked with preparing meals. This includes processing prey from carcass to meat, making all the cats feel as full as possible on the food they have on-paw, and general preservation. NEW Position: Head of Kitchen. Oversees these operations, ensures fair ration distribution, decides the communal meal for the day, works directly with the other two heads to provide building materials (leather, bones) and discuss hunting quarries.

Hunting Patrol Very similar to canon; tasked with catching prey or patrolling the border. NEW Position: Head of Hunting. Tasked with managing prey populations and overseeing the types of animals that are being brought home. Has the freedom to levy "limits" on species and organize big game hunts. Is also expected to keep tabs on the territories and populations of other predators, especially vixens and how many cubs they're having in a season.

Construction Patrol An expansion of canon's unofficial builder roles. Tasked not only with building itself, but weatherproofing based on the season, comfort of the dens, and collecting materials. NEW Position: Head of Construction. Oversees projects and manages safety. Works intimately with the Head of Kitchen especially, responsible for taking the skinned pelts and processing them into proper leather, and cleaning spare long bones (especially of rabbits) for use as beams and supports. In ThunderClan, they are also responsible for maintaining the spears.

Educator A cat in charge of giving all kittens all their basic skills and a simple introduction to history, before their mentor and the elders eventually take over. Teaches kits how to understand glyphs, the names of certain animals, the leaders of their Clan, etc.

Unofficial Jobs: Tasks that a cat chooses to do, sometimes also asking permission to do it professionally or permanently.

Chaperone The "perma-queen" position. Helps out in the nursery and attends the needs of the queens. Doesn't typically do a lot with the kittens themselves, between their Mi, the Educator, any Bas or family they have, and the elders. Raising kittens is communal, so the Chaperone focuses more on the parents themselves. (Chaperones are generally rare, as they are redundant if you write the clan as a proper social unit, imo...)

Trader A cat who brings things to the border or to gatherings in order to swap them for other goods. Becoming more popular as peace between the Clans grows. Not a "position" but more of a hobby, or a talent. The Clans are currently running on bartering, between borders.

Crafting Weaving, tanning, toymaking, instrument creation, etc. Not so much a singular position rather than a blanket of various hobbies Clan cats can do in their off-time, now. While Construction Patrol often has to do these as chores, they can be done just for fun or personal gain.

In addition, the Leaders, Deputies, and Clerics have significant expansions as well.

Leaders are now given 9 lives to USE, and are expected to function as "the ideal warrior." They are at the head of dangerous missions, patrols, and are brave responders to natural disasters. They are blessed by StarClan itself, carrying a piece of a star to display their holy rank.

The Deputy is now expected to be the one who handles the "busywork" in the Clan so the leader is free to lead by example. The final decision always goes to the leader, but the deputy has MASSIVE influence over the day-to-day functions of the Clan now.

And the Cleric is the healer and spiritual authority of the entire Clan, only outdone by the Leader itself. Only a Cleric is allowed to interpret signs and omens, with Clan Culture now having the concepts of blasphemy, dark magic, and demonic influence.

#clan culture #better bones au

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 6 all chapters

TRIGGER WARNINGS - I'm so bad at these, feels kinda redundant in a yandere fic, BUT this chapter mentions violence against women, NOT between u & john.

-It's not two days later that a teenage girl goes missing. The town rises up in a tizzy. Everyone volunteers in search parties in the woods. But deep down, you know they should be looking for a beat-up Dodge van. You tell the police, and they take it down, though you doubt they're taking you seriously. The tip lines always go crazy when something like this happens. They’ll have mountains of information to comb through.

The very next day she appears at the police station, bruised, traumatized, but miraculously alive. A burned-out Dodge van is found later in the woods on the other side of town. The girl can't remember much about how she got free, just that someone saved her. She didn't get a good look at him. It all happened so fast.

The next day, Mr. Wick comes into the coffee house with a nasty scrape on his cheek. His eyes have a hard glint to them, sharp as obsidian. 

Somehow, you just know. 

On your break you slowly lower yourself into the seat across from him. 

He doesn't look up at you. 

“What happened to your face?” you ask quietly. 

“Tree branch.”

He's probably telling the truth, but you know there's more to it. You're not sure what you want to ask. You don't want to out him. You wouldn’t have evidence even if you did. You're glad someone was able to find that poor girl, and whatever happened to those men...good riddance.

You realize you are just sitting there staring at him with your lips parted when finally he lifts his eyes to you. 

You feel utterly pinned by his piercing gaze, and your question about the van and what happened to the guys in it dies on your lips. Even you know it would be stupid to mention it, here. Somehow, you’re still brave enough to ask a different question burning in your mind.

“Before you retired... were you a cop?” 

He snorts a little at that. 

“Hardly.” 

You nod, mostly to yourself. With a house like the one he lives in? Of course he wasn’t.

“Ok.”

You realize, you don’t really want to think on it too hard. It doesn’t matter, anyway.

You stand to go, but he touches your hand, ever so lightly. Still, it’s enough to make you freeze in your tracks. If you had any sense, it would be out of fear.

When it comes to Mr. Wick though, you’re afraid you have no sense.

 “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we good?”

“Yes.”

You answer emphatically and you mean what you say. You listen to the news and probably to too many true crime podcasts, but it’s still easy to forget sometimes in your little town that the world's a big bad place. You're glad there's someone who can balance it out a little bit in the right direction, even if that someone has to go a little bit outside the law. You squeeze his hand, and it seems like that's enough assurance for him.

He goes back to his book, and you go back to work.

Later, you bring him a pastry, the coffee cake you’ve noticed he likes on occasion.

“What’s this for?”

You don’t know why you find the suspicion in his tone endearing.

“For taking care of us,” you answer. It’s hard not to fancy Clear Forks has gained its very own avenging angel in black. Whether he came from Up Above or Down Below doesn’t matter to that girl, and you find, it doesn’t matter to you.

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine