#I was putting it off until we sold the truck

[fruitless-vain]

Gotta wait until Monday before repair shops are open and able to get an estimate on the truck, in the meantime we’re casually getting more serious about getting ruffland kennels

Honestly we got lucky the airbags didn’t go off, as much as I don’t want to admit we’ve been reckless with how Yoshi sits in the car and things could’ve ended really badly today if the hit was worse

Won’t be able to afford them for a while but it looks like the cabellas might actually carry them so I can at least get a reference on size and start budgeting for them/ figure out how they would even fit in the truck.

#I was putting it off until we sold the truck #want to replace it with a jeep so that kennels would fit nicely there #and make that change then #but I don’t think the jeep will happen for a number of years #so I really need to prioritize this more than I have been #it’ll be so bulky and frustrating #groceries will not fit in the truck anymore #but that is better than the alternative loss of a pup

[alltheirdamn]

DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader

*The Bet*

Summary: Joel makes you a bet during a night out. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 3k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, mechanic!joel, established relationship, mentions of alcohol, banter, teasing, semi-public sex, unprotected piv sex, oral (f! receiving), edging, ROUGH sex, squirting, hair pulling, choking, cum eating, facial, light spanking, light face slapping, heavy kissing, explicit language, pet names (darlin', cowboy, babydoll), brat taming (kinda?) A/N: This is just pure FILTH. Eat it up, kids, I know you love it.

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Friday nights always meant date night with Joel. With Tommy babysitting Sarah and the work day done for you both, he insisted on taking you to his favorite bar on the outskirts of town. You were looking forward to a night alone, especially when you had a surprise up your sleeve. Earlier in the week, you came across a boutique in downtown Austin that sold very…niche t-shirts…and couldn’t help buying one. Putting the finishing touches on your makeup, you stepped back and admired your outfit. You had on the tiniest pair of cut-off denim shorts hugging your ass, a pair of worn black cowboy boots, and a fitted tank top with Cowboy Pillows written across your chest. It was perfect, and you knew it would drive Joel crazy. 

Joel stopped dead in his tracks when you came waltzing out of the house and toward his truck; the hand holding open the passenger door tightened until his knuckles turned white. 

Staring you down with a fire lit behind his big puppy dog eyes, Joel shook his head in protest.

“Absolutely the fuck not, babydoll,” he swore. “Take that pretty ass back inside and change.”

You stood before the truck with your arms crossed and the biggest pout forming on your lips. 

“Did you even read my shirt, cowboy?” You asked, moving your arms to reveal the words stretched over your breasts. 

“It’s very cute, darlin’, but you ain’t goin’ out like that,” Joel grumbled. 

“Why?” You frowned. 

“I ain’t tryna get arrested tonight. ‘Cause if one man lay eyes on those perky tits, I’m killin’ them.”

You strode toward him, pressing your body against his. His hands found their usual spot over the swell of your ass, his fingers prodding into the supple flesh hidden under the denim. You hummed as his mouth dipped to your ear, his teeth grazing over the shell as his voice dropped low. 

“Why don’t we just stay in?” He breathed. “Wanna take you right back in the house and fuck you ‘til you can’t walk.”

“You promised me a night out, Joel,” you whined. 

He made his way down your neck, peppering you with open-mouthed kisses before responding to your demands.

“Fine,” he muttered against your skin. “Get your sexy ass in the fuckin’ truck, and let’s go.”

He released you and climbed into the truck with a mischievous grin. Joel quickly pulled you across the bench, tucking you into his side as he pulled out of the driveway and toward the bar. You brushed your hand over Joel’s thigh, your fingers creeping up to the zipper of his jeans. He shifted in the seat, spreading his legs a little wider to welcome more of your touch. 

“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, babydoll,” he warned. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied innocently. 

His hand shot out before you could drag his zipper down, bringing your fingers up to his mouth to place gentle kisses along each digit. 

“I’ll make you a bet,” he smirked, turning his head to look at you.

“What kind of bet?”

“No touchin’ each other tonight. The first person to do it loses.”

A giggle bubbled out of you as you considered his offer. Knowing Joel, he’d lose before you stepped into the bar. The idea of teasing him all night already had your thighs clenching tight, the friction of the denim against your aching clit nearly too painful to bear.

“What happens to the loser?” You asked.

“Loser gets to do whatever the other one wants.”

The truck slowed to a stop as the streetlight turned red, and you moved closer to reel him in for a deep kiss. If this bet was going to happen, you wanted all the attention before you set out to win the bet. Joel’s tongue brushed over your lips, coaxing your mouth open wider and deepening the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, tangling your hands in his hair to hold him closer. 

“You’re on, cowboy,” you grinned, pulling away as the light turned green. “Hope you’re ready to lose.”

“We’ll see ‘bout that, darlin'.”

The bar was mildly crowded for a Friday night. Most of the patrons were older men sulking around or flirting with the bartenders. Soft country music floated out of the jukebox in the corner, and you found yourself swaying your hips to the melody. Joel watched you as you danced, his eyes never leaving your body unless he caught wind of another man admiring you from afar. You laughed each time he scowled at them and upped the movement of your hips just to get a rise out of him. Watching him try to hold back from touching you was cute, his hand nearly crushing the beer he was nursing. 

After your third drink, the tipsy feeling started to settle in, and self-restraint was slowly phasing out of your body. Joel noticed the shift in your mood as you perched yourself on a barstool. You tried to hide the way you clenched your thighs, chasing the friction of the denim rubbing against your aching clit. Leaning in as close as he could, Joel lowered his head and chuckled. 

“Doin’ okay, babydoll?” He whispered in your ear, his mouth a breath away from your neck.

You shivered at the phantom touch; he was so close, yet not close enough. 

“Stop it,” you exhaled. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Not playin’ fair?” He questioned. “You ain’t been playin’ fair since you walked out the damn house.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you feigned sympathy. “Am I driving you crazy with my lil’ outfit?”

“You have no fuckin’ idea, darlin’.”

Scootching off the barstool, you tilted your head toward the vacant pool table. Joel’s eyes followed the motion, raising his brow at your silent invitation.

“Y’wanna play?” He asked. “Hope you’re ready to lose, darlin’.”

“You talk a big game, cowboy. You’re on.”

You grabbed a cue stick and waited for Joel to rack the balls and center them on the green velvet table. He grabbed his own stick and gestured to you to start. 

“All you, babydoll. Let’s see it.”

You rounded the table and leaned over to line your stick with the cue ball. Inhaling on the pull of your stick, you exhaled and drove it into the cue. The sound of the resin balls breaking shattered the music in the background, their triangle formation scattering across the table. You managed to sink two striped balls into the left corner pocket and rose to assess the damage. Joel stared at you, impressed, nodding as he lined up his stick with the cue. 

“Y’got stripes, babydoll. Solid’s are mine,” he mutters, his eyes trained on the ball. 

You watched, mesmerized, as Joel’s shoulder muscles moved fluidly with each extension of his arm. With a strong drive of the stick, Joel sunk the four ball into the right-center pocket. Giving you a cocky grin, he rounded the table again, this time directly facing you. He stared up at you, his eyes dark under the furrow of his brows. You bent over the table's edge, propping your face onto your hands and shimming your shoulders slightly. Joel’s eyes snapped up to your chest, fixated on the way your breasts pushed together.

“Not fair,” he gritted before sending his stick into the cue ball. 

The ball scratched on the table, missing the solid he aimed for. You smirked at him, sticking your tongue out as you skipped around the table to settle into position against the table. You eyed Joel as he moved to stand behind you, and you rewarded him with pushing your ass out further. Giving your hips a little wiggle, you sent a forceful shot into the cue, sinking the nine ball and ricocheting it against the twelve ball, sending it into the right corner pocket. 

“Damn,” Joel mumbled, tracking your body as you lined up for your third turn. 

“Didn’t think I was good, huh?” You laughed. 

“You’re good at everythin’, darlin’.”

The dip in his voice vibrated up your body as you pressed your legs against the table to line up for the next stroke. Joel leaned his hip against the corner of the table, folding his arms as he watched you aim your stick at the cue. 

“C’mon, babydoll,” he whispered, drawing your focus away from the shot and causing the cue ball to sink into the pocket rather than the fifteen ball you were gunning toward. 

“You play dirty,” you grumbled. 

Joel crowded you, his body inches from yours. You arched into the distance between your bodies, barely keeping your chest from brushing his. 

“I bet those panties are already soaked, huh?” Joel teased.

You gave him an innocent smile, ready to deliver the final blow to his restraint. Rising onto your toes, you kept your mouth close to his ear. 

“They would be if I were wearing any, cowboy.”

You pulled back to see Joel’s nostrils flaring, his eyes roaming down your body and back up. 

“Bathroom. Now.” He demanded. 

“But we’re still playing,” you whined, gesturing to the pool table. 

Joel’s hand shot out to your waist, dragging you to his body. 

“Fuck the game. Need you in that bathroom now so I can fuck that sassiness outta you,” he growled. 

“I’m not sassin’ you, cowboy. You’re just a sore loser,” you taunted. 

“I ain’t gonna ask again, babydoll. You either walk to the bathroom right now, or I fuck you on that pool table in front of everyone.”

“Maybe I want a crowd,” you shrugged with a coy grin. “Bend me over right here, cowboy. Show them who’s yours.”

“Bet you’d like that, huh? Have all them eyes on you while you scream my name and soak the table. Y’wanna show everyone how good y’take my cock?”

“Do it,” you smiled. 

Joel’s hand traveled down your ass, squeezing it hard enough to make you yelp before smacking it hard. A few heads turned at the sound, their wandering eyes scrutinizing you and Joel. Even though Joel could be all talk, you knew he wouldn’t actually fuck you in front of everyone, not when he was the most protective and selfish man there was. 

You were too turned on to fight it now. Turning toward the bathroom, you glanced over your shoulder and smiled as Joel watched you walk to the dimly lit hallway of the bar. You didn’t have the care to notice heads turning to stare at you as you passed, the excitement too strong as it coursed through your veins. You barely had a hand on the door when you felt a warm body pressed against your back, and Joel was quick to shove you inside the one-stall bathroom. With a quick turn of the lock, he had you pinned to the ceramic sink and his mouth crashing against yours. While you tangled your fingers into his messy curls, Joel worked at your shorts, tugging the tight denim down your hips and thighs. He broke away from your lips, staring down at your bare sex as you spread your legs slightly. 

“Fuckin’ christ, babydoll,” he exhaled. “Can’t believe you been keepin’ this from me all night.”

“Like what you see?” 

Joel wrapped two strong hands behind your thighs and lifted you onto the edge of the sink. You gasped at the shock of the cold against your bare ass, bucking your hips forward to search for his warmth. He lowered himself onto his knees, keeping a firm grip on your thighs as you settled your calves over his shoulders. Peering up at you between your parted legs, Joel gave you a wicked grin before brushing his nose up your inner thighs. 

“You know I won, right?” You questioned as his tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. “Technically, I should be calling the shots.”

Joel glared up at you, his pupils blown wide under the red lights of the bathroom. 

“Y’can call the shots all you want later,” he mumbled. “Right now, you’re mine.”

You cried as his tongue dipped inside you, his jaw working overtime to pull each pitiful sound from your body. He drew circles around your slick folds, purposefully avoiding your aching clit. You whined every time his tongue brushed close to it, that agonizing surge of pleasure coursing through your body. Music from the bar drifted into the bathroom, layering over the frustrated cries leaving your lips. 

“Stop teasing, cowboy,” you panted, bucking your hips against his tongue.

“This is what ya’ get, darlin’,” Joel spoke against your wet cunt.

“Please,” you begged.

He pulled away entirely, leaving you chasing the orgasm you never got. Spinning you toward the mirror, Joel worked at freeing his cock with one hand while pressing the other hand into your spine. You flattened against the sink, your hands pressed against the mirror. Glancing up, you met his eyes in the mirror, watching as his lips twitched into a devilish grin. That was all the warning he gave before he drove into you in one fluid stroke. 

“Fuck!” You cried, your head falling between your shoulders.

Joel’s hand wound around your hair, twisting it into a ponytail and yanking your neck back until you strained against his grip. 

“Nuh uh, babydoll,” Joel grunted. “Watch me while I fuck you.”

You locked your eyes with his through the reflection, watching as his face twisted into something carnal. He pounded into you with enough force to make the sink underneath you creak with the weight pressed against it. Joel kept a relentless pace, dismissing every whine and sob falling off your lips. He reached around you with his other hand, wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing tight. You heaved in a breath as your vision blurred, the pleasure mixing with pain every time he slammed into you.

Your orgasm started surging up through your core, snaking into your bloodstream and becoming unbearable to hold back. You choked out a sob, your thighs quaking as the pleasure built inside your stomach.

“Joel,” you choked. 

“Y’need to cum, babydoll?” Joel taunted, driving into you hard.

His cock hit the right spot over and over again until he felt your cunt clenching around him. He pulled out at the exact moment your orgasm exploded through your body, liquid gushing out of you and down your thighs. Joel growled in approval, sinking back into you as the aftershocks sent tremors through your limbs.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised. “Keep takin’ my fuckin’ cock. I ain’t done yet, babydoll.”

His hand was still gripping your throat, his fingers applying more pressure to cut off your ragged whimpers. You clawed at the edge of the sink, entirely at Joel’s mercy as he wrecked into you harder…faster. He didn’t lie when he said he was going to fuck the sass out of you; you were helpless in this moment. 

But you fucking loved it.

“So. Fuckin’. Good.” Joel punched out each word through every thrust. 

Joel released your throat and wrapped both hands in your hair, using it to guide your hips back against his cock. You were so full of him and so sore, but you couldn’t deny the pressure swelling inside your stomach. You gasped for air as each thrust grew stronger, his cock assaulting you until you spasmed under him and let your orgasm rush out of you. 

“Fuck! Fuck… fuck… fuck,” you chanted, chasing the throbbing pulse inside your body. 

Warm liquid drenched his cock, the lewd sound of his hips meeting yours echoing around you. Joel pulled out suddenly, leaving you hollow and soaked. Wrangling you to your knees, Joel pumped his cock over your open mouth, grunting out your name as his release painted your tongue and lips. Bending down to eye level, Joel lapped up the cum dripping off your swollen lips before bringing his hand up to slap your cheek. He rubbed a hand over your face, smearing your makeup around, leaving you a fucked-out mess.

“Y’look so pretty like this,” he hummed, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, his tongue intertwining with yours. 

“I love you, babydoll,” he sighed, pressing his lips against your forehead. 

“I love you too, cowboy,” you preened. 

You were used to him being rough—dominant—but this possessiveness was intoxicating. You wanted more.

“I think I should sass you more often,” you giggled. 

“You enjoy bein’ fucked like a bratty lil’ slut?” He smirked. 

“Love it,” you exhaled, dragging him back to your mouth. 

Joel helped you back into your shorts after you both took a moment to breathe. You turned towards the mirror and admired the complete mess that you were; your hair was mangled into knots, your shirt was askew, and your face was covered in streaks of mascara, smeared lipstick, and drool. A giggle bubbled out of you as you tried to tame down your hair and wipe away some of the makeup coating your rosy cheeks. Joel grabbed your hand, tugging you away from the mirror.

“Leave it,” he whispered. “Want everyone to see how filthy you are.”

“Seriously?” You gaped. 

Joel nodded his eyes, his eyes coasting over your body. 

“Seriously, babydoll. Need to show them you’re mine.”

“I think they already know,” you said pointedly. “I’m pretty sure I was loud enough to break the jukebox.”

He chuckled at your statement, tapping your ass and guiding you toward the door. Dropping his mouth to your ear, he softly kissed your neck before twisting the lock open.

“C’mon, darlin’. Let’s go home so y’can have your way with me.”

“I’m going to make you pay for this, cowboy,” you warned. “I'm going to have you on your knees begging for it.”

“I’ll happily worship you all night, babydoll,” he smiled, kissing your cheek before guiding you into the hall and out to his truck.

#mechanic!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #pre outbreak!joel #one shot #drabble #this is just filth

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Butter

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: What if Joel doesn't forget to buy himself a cake for his birthday? But by the time he remembers, all the bakeries in his neighbourhood are closed - except yours.

Warnings: No outbreak AU, pure fluff, mentions of baking and food, meet cute, some sexual tension but very mild stuff compared to my other fics, single dad!Joel being a sexy menace, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has an accent similar to Joel, very lightly edited, not my best work, but I'm in my writing for fun era 💁🏻‍♀️

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: It's here! This was an exercise in speed writing, and just putting words to paper without overthinking anything. I really enjoyed writing this sweet little piece, this is dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who has been the biggest cheerleader for this idea since day one. Happy birthday to our favourite single dad who never lived through a cordyceps outbreak ❤️

September 26, 2003 was supposed to be a good day.

It’s Friday, after all. Not that the weekend is relevant to you anymore, with Saturdays and Sundays being the busiest days for business. But you have a date for once tonight, and you’re determined to enjoy it.

If you can get the goddamn security shutter to close, that is.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pull futilely at the bottom of the metal shutter with both hands, but it refuses to budge. You lament the sweat seeping through the fabric of the nice dress you changed into, the hem reaching almost indecent heights on the back of your thighs where it’s climbed up. And you don’t have to look at your reflection to know that stress has already smudged the edges of the eyeliner you hurriedly painted on as soon as you got the last customer out the door.

You can be forgiven for not noticing the wash of yellow headlights over the windows of the shop front and the sound of rolling tyres as a truck pulls up on the curb outside the bakery, until a gravelly voice pipes up behind you alongside hurried footsteps.

‘Ma’am, please tell me you’re still open.’

You tap on the ‘Closed’ sign through the window without turning around, determined to wrangle the shutter into submission. ‘Bad luck buddy, come back tomorrow. We open at nine sharp.’

‘No I can’t, I’m so sorry, but I need a cake now.’

Curiosity turns your head, and over your shoulder, you find a broad-shouldered man in a dark tshirt and casual jeans standing a respectful four paces away. Under eyebrows sloping downwards in a pleading angle that matches the slant of his moustache, his warm and imploring eyes are on you.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to go,’ you say. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

‘Look, I’ll do you one better. I’ll fix the shutter for you for free - if you sell me a cake.’

You purse your lips, the prospect of saving on what looks like an inevitable repair bill tempting. ‘You can fix it?’

‘I’m a contractor,’ he replies, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a battered looking wallet. ‘Here’s my card, if you think I’m bluffin’.’

Miller & Associates is printed in bold across the top, and underneath, is presumably his name and cell number. Glancing up at him, you say, ‘Look, Mr. Miller, I really want to help, but I’m late for a date, and I’m all sold out of cakes today -’

‘I’ll take anything you got. Cupcakes, cookies, whatever you have left,’ he cuts in, then apologises in quick succession, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry to be so pushy - I’m not, usually - but I promised my daughter I’d bring something home, and by the time I remembered, this is the only place I could think of. Please.’

You feel the exact moment your resolve crack, and then fold like a goddamn lawn chair. What can you say, this contractor really knows how to work those puppy eyes, and you can never say no to a man who refuses to let their kid down. 

Especially when the man looks like this.

Shooting off a text to your date to push back your dinner plans, you nod towards the door. ‘Alright. C’mon in, Mr. Miller.’

‘Nice place you got here,’ he remarks politely, hovering by the entrance as the fluorescent lights flicker on, his manners impeccably southern. 

‘You don’t have to flatter me, I’ve already let you in,’ you joke, lips quirking at the way he flusters. ‘But I appreciate it. You been here before?’

When he smiles, you notice the corners of his eyes crinkle charmingly. ‘No, but I know I’ll be comin’ back.’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I was out of ready-made cakes,’ you tell him, holding the door open to the kitchen so he can come in after you. ‘But I have some cake layers in the fridge so I can put together something fairly quickly.’

He ducks his head in a manner that tells you he’s not used to demanding things, and protests, ‘I don’t want to put you out. I meant it, if you just have some cupcakes or somethin’ -’

‘Listen, you promised your daughter a cake, didn’t you?’ you interrupt.

He shrugs. ‘Well, yeah I did -’

‘I’m guessin’ it’s for a birthday?’

He nods sheepishly. ‘It is.’

‘Well, as a baker, ‘mfraid I can’t let a cakeless birthday happen on my watch, Mr. Miller,’ you insist, opening the fridge door with a flourish. ‘Let’s see what we have here. Cake for three, I assume?’

‘Two, actually.’

Hopefully you’re as discreet as you think you are when your eyes drop to his left hand - his fourth finger is conspicuously ringless.

Interesting.

You hum, considering the mismatched options in your inventory. ‘It’s gonna be a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster of a cake, if you don’t mind. How does chocolate and vanilla layers with cookies and cream frosting sound?’

‘Sounds perfect,’ he answers without skipping a beat. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

You shake your head, hands full of cake rounds wrapped in cling film as you nudge the fridge close. ‘Please, call me Bri, Mr. Miller.’

‘And you can call me Joel,’ he says in return. ‘Is Bri short for somethin’?’

Laying the cakes on the work surface, you reply, ‘Yeah, Bri for brioche, like the bread. It's a silly nickname.’

The single dad surprises you with a low whistle. ‘Can’t say I saw that comin’.’

You grin. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Joel.’

You don’t often have an audience while baking, and you find yourself talking Joel through the steps while you prep everything for assembly.

Swirling a spatula through the tub of buttercream you made earlier that day, you explain, ‘I just need to whip up some of this frosting so that it’s nice and soft for putting the cake together. You wanna help me break up some Oreos so we can make it cookies and cream?’

‘I’m all yours, chef,’ he says, one corner of his mouth curling into a teasing smile that has no business warming the apples of your cheek as it does. ‘Just tell me what to do.’

While your Kitchenaid whirrs to life, whipping air into the buttercream, Joel wields a rolling pin, smashing a generous helping of Oreos into crumbs in a Ziplock bag. The almost exaggerated care with which he moves speaks to inexperience in the kitchen, and you muse that either his kid makes up for it in that department, or they live off takeout.

Eventually, he picks up the bag and looks at you in a question. ‘I think I’m done?’

You smile and tap the lip of the mixing bowl. ‘That’s perfect. Why don’t you tip in the crumbs straight in here?’

Before you can step back to allow him space, Joel’s taken two strides towards you, and his arm brushes your shoulder when he lifts the bag and tilts the contents into the frosting. He’s warm and solid, and damnit, he smells good - like sawdust and sweat.

The thought comes to you unbidden - what a man.

There’s a lull, and only when you feel the weight of eyes on you do you realise that you missed his question.

‘Did you say somethin'?’ you squeak, embarrassed.

‘I said, is this ok?’ he repeats, nodding at the mixing bowl.

You nearly stumble over your words. ���Yes, yes it’s perfect.’

He watches you closely, a touch of concern in his brown eyes. ‘You ok there, honey?’

‘Yup,’ you chirp, far too cheerfully. ‘Just need to mix it all up now -’

If you had your wits about you, you would stir in the crumbs first and set the machine on low. But this man somehow stole said wits by sheer proximity to you, and you accidentally start the Kitchenaid on high, an indignant yelp escaping you when Oreo dust flies aggressively out of the bowl along with a splatter of white buttercream that lands squarely on the front of your dark knit dress.

‘Oh shit!’ you cry out, frantically turning off the mixer. ‘Shit shit shit!’

Over your panicked mantra, Joel is calmness itself. ‘Hang on, honey, I gotcha.’

He makes a beeline towards the sink, grabbing a tea towel and wets it under the tap with a bit of dishwashing liquid. It all screams competent single dad, and you find yourself staring at his unfairly large hand, mapped with thick veins, holding out the damp towel for you to take.

‘Thanks,’ you stutter self-consciously, the tips of your ears hot while swiping at the stain. ‘That was a rookie mistake. I promise I’m actually a good baker.’

He gives you a wink to put you at ease. ‘Don’t worry, I believe you.’

Starting over, the mixer hums as it gently incorporates the Oreos until the buttercream is a speckled grey and doubled in volume. ‘Looks like it’s ready. You wanna taste, Joel?’

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘D’ya have a spoon or somethin’ for me?’

‘You can use your fingers,’ you reply, and it's too late to take it back.

You feel the back of your neck heating up when he shoots you a meaningful look, just a touch of mischief in the tilt of his lips. 

‘Can I, now?’ he teases.

You try a nonchalant shrug that probably comes off as painfully awkward. ‘This batch is just for you, I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t.’

Joel chuckles, his strong shoulders quaking. And so you watch, shamelessly, as he raises his right hand, index and middle fingers at the ready, before diving into the metal bowl, scooping up a generous dollop of buttercream. There’s a peek of his pink tongue when his plush lips part, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a gratuitously loud moan, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

When he turns to you with a pained expression on his face, maintaining eye contact all the while licking an errant streak of frosting off the side of his middle finger, you gape at him for a whole five seconds before you manage to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Good?’ you barely manage to squeak.

‘You betcha, honey,’ he declares, then adds, ‘Mind if I double dip?’

He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know it, but a hot flush runs through your body and you swallow thickly. ‘You can do whatever you want, cowboy.’

You don’t think you’re imagining the wicked glint in his answering stare - you’re getting yourself into trouble, and don’t you know it. 

Clearing your throat, you attempt to thwart your mind's dangerous descent into the gutter by changing the subject. ‘So, I can do somethin’ really snazzy that I think your daughter would like - do you know what a piñata cake is?’

He shakes his head. ‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘Hardly,’ you chuckle. ‘It’s a cake filled with sprinkles, so when you cut into it, it’s a sprinkles surprise!’

He lets out a playful sigh of relief. ‘As long as there’s no whackin’ involved, it’s good by me.’

You gesture at him to follow you across the room. ‘And here’s the fun part - you get to choose the sprinkles.’

Joel whistles at the reveal of your compulsively organised sprinkles cabinet, each shelf sorted by colour, shape and size. He quips, ‘Is this what the inside of your brain looks like, honey?’

You grin. ‘Pretty much. What’s your daughter’s name?’

‘Sarah.’

‘What colour does Sarah like?’

‘Any and all shades of pink.’

‘I can work with that.’

Now that everything is ready and waiting on the work surface, you pull out a lazy Susan and plonk a cake board on top of it, dusting your hands dramatically. ‘Alright, Joel. Ready for the magic to happen?’

Making himself comfortable next to you, he leans on his elbows, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the way his tshirt stretches and strains over his back. ‘Go ahead, I’m ready to be impressed, honey.’

Filling a piping bag full of the cookies and cream buttercream, you ask, ‘You wanna get your hands dirty?’

He raises his palms in surrender. ‘I’ll leave it to you, I don’t want to make you any more late for your date.’

You’re used to working with much bigger cakes, so this one doesn’t take you long. With a cookie cutter, you carve out a small circle from each cake round, then you stack and fill the layers with buttercream. After loading the shaft in the middle with all manner of pink sprinkles, you stopper the top with the cake cut-outs.

‘How old is Sarah turning today?’ you ask conversationally while you spin the cake around, smoothing on the crumb coat.

Joel looks up, surprised. ‘Oh, it’s my birthday today, not hers. ‘

‘Wait, what?’ you cry, throwing your hands up. ‘I made this cake with Sarah in mind - it will literally be vomiting pink sprinkles!’

‘I’m a girl dad. I like pink,’ shrugs Joel easily.

You huff, using an icing smoother to make sure the buttercream is even all over the cake. ‘I would pop the cake into the freezer to firm up before adding a final layer of frosting if I had the time, but this will have to do.’

‘It looks great,’ Joel assures you as you put the finishing touches to the cake, with buttercream swirls all around the top and a final baptism of sprinkles.

‘There, all done. Lemme box it up for you and this bad boy is ready to go.’

‘Amazin’, thank you so much,’ he grins. ‘Please, lemme do the washin’ up while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, Joel, you can’t,’ you protest, but he’s already grabbed the mixing bowl and all the bits and bobs stained with buttercream. ‘You’re the birthday boy!’

‘Least I can do,’ he shoots back over his shoulder, already halfway to the sink.

‘Well no, you promised to fix the security shutter for me, remember?’ you call after him.

‘Damn, I was hopin’ you’d forgotten about that.’

Joel cleans up with a practised air, humming under his breath as he waits for the water to heat up and the soap to lather. You watch him from the corner of your eye while you secure the cake inside the box, throwing in a birthday candle for good measure. You’ve just tied a nice ribbon around the cardboard box when he puts away everything in the drying rack and wipes his hands dry.

‘Didn’t expect you to be good at that,’ you tease, moving towards the door.

‘Sexist much?’ he jokes, no real bite in his retort. Then by way of explanation, he tells you, ‘I work late, so Sarah usually cooks and I wash up afterwards.’

‘Sounds like you guys make a good team.’

Joel helps with the lights and locks the door, and you stand to one side when he grabs the security shutter and forces it into submission by brute force. You can’t help but stare when the bottom of his tshirt rides up, revealing a soft sliver of belly underneath, his biceps bulging and back rippling as the shutter is finally forced shut in a metallic ripple.

You give him a smile. ‘Well, happy birthday, Joel.’

‘Thanks again for the cake.’ He looks around, as if looking for your car, but the sidewalk is empty except for his truck. ‘How are you gettin’ to your date?’

‘I was just gonna call a taxi.’

‘No, you ain’t,’ he nods towards his ride. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

‘Oh, no, it’s late, and you should be getting back to Sarah -’

‘I spoiled your date, so please, let me,’ he insists, holding the door open on the passenger side. Hop in.’

Joel takes the cake off your hands and puts it in the backseat carefully, putting the seat belt over it while you climb in. Glancing over your shoulder, you see toolboxes and newspapers on the floor, and it smells like paint and wood dust.

‘Sorry it’s a bit messy, occupational hazard,’ he apologises as he straps himself in. ‘So, where are we goin’?’

‘Do you know the steakhouse on Third Street?’

‘Vaguely,’ he replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. ‘It sounds fancy.’

‘You been?’

‘Nope, I barely have time to go anywhere nowadays. It seems like I’m only ever in bed, or at work, or in my truck.’

You turn to smile at him, admiring the way his his thick fingers around the top of the steering wheel, making it look so small. ‘I feel you. Small business owner, am I right?’

‘I hear ya,’ he shoots you a smile. ‘So - what’s the deal with tonight? First date?’

‘Fourth, actually.’

He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Fourth date? You know what happens on a fourth date, honey.’

‘I don’t, actually. Tell me, what happens on a fourth date?’

He blows out his cheeks, and admits, ‘Honestly, I can’t tell ya. I haven’t been on a fourth date since 1991.’

You burst into laughter at his unexpected answer. ‘You’re such a dork, Joel Miller.’

When the truck rumbles to a stop outside the steakhouse ten minutes later, he looks at his watch and announces, ‘Here we are, only fifteen minutes late.’ Squinting through the windshield, he points at a man smoking outside, an impatient frown on his face. ‘That him?’

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ you nod, but you stay put in your seat, in no hurry to make a move.

Joel nods, tapping his tidily trimmed nails on the steering wheel. ‘So I’ll swing ‘round tomorrow after work with my toolbelt? ‘Round six thirty?’

‘A toolbelt? What a sight to look forward to,’ you rib, slowly reaching for the seatbelt and unbuckling it.

‘Hell yeah, it’s got a special clip for my Nokia and all,’ he adds mischievously.

'You must fend off the ladies by the dozen,' you tease.

'Daily,' he answers without skipping a beat.

You probably shouldn’t have, especially not with the guy who you’re supposed to be on a date with glaring daggers at you through the windshield. But there’s something cackling in the air between you and this man you just met not an hour ago, and the way the streetlight filters through the window, backlighting his messy curls and scraggly beard, that has you throwing caution to the proverbial wind.

Impulsively, you lean across the gear shift, your left hand finding purchase on his knee before pressing your lips to the side of his whiskered jaw, your kiss fitting right into that little heart-shaped patch on his beard. 

You’re not sure who’s more taken aback, but you don’t have time to find out. 

‘Happy birthday, Joel Miller.’

He smiles after you as you hop out of his truck.

You’ve just sold your last cupcake of the day when the bell over the bakery door rings. And sure enough, it’s Joel Miller crossing the threshold, right on the dot at six thirty.

‘Hey, Bri,’ he waves, hovering half-in and half-out of the shop, a slight awkwardness having set in overnight.

But it's ok, you're happy to pick up where you left off. Putting your hands on your waist and a cheeky grin, you quip, ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding about that toolbelt, huh?’

Your chest swells as you watch him thaw with an easy smile, and he banters back, ‘I’m a man of my word, honey. You ok with me gettin’ to work now?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll be cleanin’ up back in the kitchen, I’ll join you when I’m done.’

Joel shoots you a thumbs up. ‘Great. I’ll grab the ladder and get right to it.’

When you emerge fifteen minutes later, he’s on the fourth rung of the ladder, tinkering the rolling mechanism with a screwdriver and a studious frown on his brow. He looks like he’s wearing the same thing as yesterday - you can believe that he’s a man who buys the same tshirt in bulk - and he smiles at you when you duck out of the shop.

‘Did Sarah like the cake?’ you ask in casual conversation.

‘She went nuts over the piñata surprise,’ he replies. ‘And the cake was delicious, there were hardly any crumbs left when we were done with it. She says we’re definitely ordering a cake from you for her birthday.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘How was your evening?’ he asks, glancing down at you from his perch. ‘Did you find out what happens on a fourth date?’

You let out a dry laugh. ‘Yeah, I did, actually. He dumped me.’

Joel freezes, a scowl darkening his countenance. ‘Oh shit, what? Why?’

You shrug, leaning your weight on the ladder as you look at the ground. ‘I mean, I did show up an hour late in some other guy’s truck. And I guess probably shouldn’t have kissed you on the cheek right in front of him.’

You startle when Joel’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’

‘Honestly, you don’t look that sorry, Joel Miller,’ you joke.

He cocks his head to one side. ‘Well, I can't lie, I think you deserve better than him.’

‘Do you now?’ you prompt. ‘Who do you have in mind?’

Joel peers at you from under long lashes with a half-smile that's almost shy. He dodges your question, and says instead, ‘I didn't mean to ruin your night, let me make it up to you, honey.’

‘How?’

Deftly, he climbs down the ladder, landing squarely on two booted feet, his presence comforting as he looms over you, his eyes warm. ‘Can I buy you dinner?’

‘Like - a date kind of dinner?’

‘Yeah, like a date,’ he nods.

You can’t help the dig. ‘And you were just sayin' you haven’t been on a date since...?’

He flashes you a smirk, and you shiver when his hand brushes your waist. ‘Since 1991. Tough sell, I know - but I thought I’d give it a shot.’

Running a finger along his sharp jawline, softened by the endearingly untidy beard, you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from giving away too wide a grin. ‘Why, I think I have a good feelin’ about you, Joel Miller.’

Catching your wrist in his fingers, he presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles, the rough graze of his stubble chasing goosebumps across your skin as his eyes smile at you. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, honey.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this sweet little oneshot 🥰 I really leaned into the fluff and I have no regrets. Comments/reblogs/asks are much appreciated as always! I don't have plans for a second part right now, but a smutty follow-up is always a possibility...

The adorable dividers are by @firefly-graphics 👩🏻‍🍳

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller imagine #no outbreak au #joel miller oneshot #the last of us oneshot #fuckyeahshorts

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#375

“Hey shithead, get over here.  I got some news….  You look like shit.  Come here.  Kneel.  Reach in and take out my dick.  I’ve got to take a piss.  Drink up and listen.  A buyer put in an offer, and it was accepted.  You’ve been sold.  I wasn’t expecting for a chunky slave to sell after only one day of showing, but that big truck driver made a full offer.  He’ll be back later on tonight.  He made some demands….

“He wants you cleaned up on the outside and loaded up with loads from many men on the inside.  I’ll bring the hose around in a bit.  Sir Hank will be down in a bit to bring you some soap.  He’s also going to make that cage permanent, by riveting it on.  Your dick will be useless going forward.

“Do you remember how many men unloaded in your cunt so far this morning?...  Four?  Good.  Hank and I will each provide one.  With you off the market, it’ll be difficult to get men in here just for a fuck. 

“I called a buddy.  You’re not his type, but he’ll bring his slave and fuck him instead.  When he’s ready to nut he’ll just shove it into you.  Or maybe he’ll use a condom with his own slave and then squeeze the load into you.

“Oh wait a minute….  Let me see….  There’s one…  two….  There are a couple of used condoms in the trash can here.

“Bend over and lean against the wall.  Present your cunt.  I have no idea how long these loads have been here, whose load is in them, or even if they were used on you or the slave that was in here last.  You are getting their spooge contents now….  Damn, you have one hell of a gape, which should make the squeezing in of the loads easy. 

“That truck driver has one of the biggest dicks I have ever seen.  He’s great to work with.  Prompt payments.  And most of all he seems to want the fat slaves, or the weird ones.  He’s an intermediary for several buyers out west.  You’ll probably end up on this pig farm where you will be force fed until you bulk up, and then installed in a pig pen with other real pigs.  Castration is most likely.  Not just the balls but your shaft too.

“There, both loads are in you….  Oh, I missed this condom here….  I didn’t realize that our clients used so many rubbers.  I guess it makes sense. 

“The other possible buyer that trucker uses is in Oregon.  He’s one of those militia types, but one who likes fat fags chained up in his basement.  Don’t know that much about him other than he’s a sadistic bastard.

“There!  Three anonymous loads in your cunt.  Get ready, this will probably be my last time for me to breed you. 

“Jesus!  He stretched you out.  All these loads are making this one loose sloppy hole….  This isn’t going to work.  Clamp down then spin around.

“Get me off with your toilet mouth….  You look grossed out.  That’s the cum stew from your cunt.  Clean me off before you get me off.

“That’s it.  Don’t fucking gag.  This is your life now.  Good boy.  You are an ass eating, piss drinking, cum dump slave.  Whoever you wind up with, they are going to do way worse nasty stuff to you.  This is what you do.  This is what you are.

“I’m going to miss your tongue.  That’s what made you sellable.  Does it ever feel good on my dick!  Work it!  Fuck!  I’m going to cum in no time.  Keep licking my balls when I go in deep.  When I tell you, spin around so I can dump in your cunt.

“I wish all slaves could have a tongue like yours.  When you eat my shitter, it really makes my hole quiver.  I don’t know what you do back there, but man does it feel good.  You always gave me your eagerness to please, and you do so no matter how shitty you were being treated.  That’s so hard to find in slaves. 

“I’m getting close.  I’m getting close.  Now! Give me that cunt!

“Urg! Uh! Uh! Ahhh! Jesus! Fuck!  Damn slave.  I gave you a large load to add to the stew you have brewing….

“Clamp down then clean me off….  There you go.  Fuck that was hot.  There’s some sludge in my pubes; get that….  I have to piss again.

“Ahhh!  When I’m done stand up….

“…Slave, I am going to miss you.  You know, if we were in a different situation, I would put you on a diet and a rigorous exercise regimen.  I would have you as my boy. 

“Don’t tell anybody what I’m about to do.  Don’t pull away; I want to kiss you…. 

“…Like that.  Now you treat your new owners the way you have treated me.  If you are lucky, they won’t torture you too much.  I wish you the best.”

[randomshyperson]

Illicit Affairs - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Westview was everything Wanda ever wanted, but then came you. Will she be able to resist temptation and curiosity for the safety of her marriage, or what Vision doesn't know can't hurt him?

Warnings: (+18), mentions of smut, strap-on use, fingering, bottom!Wanda, cheating (fuck off vision), Westview mind control and stuff, canon divergence, secret relationship, a bif of angst and betrayal but happy ending| Words: 3.982k

A/N-> This may also be known as my contribution to that Lizzie scene in Love&Death.

dicionary-> kurva dieťa - fuck baby

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

--//--

Westview should be perfect.

A home, a husband, and adorable children to care for.

So why was Wanda so damn bored?

"See you later, Mom!" Was the boys' unison goodbye before they walked out the door, dressed in their school uniforms. 

Wanda isn't sure when or how school for the boys started, but it was part of the routine now. As long as Vision was at work, she had the whole house to herself.

And it was fucking tedious.

She would clean, read a little, and if she was lucky Agnes would visit with some gossip for an hour or two until it was time to pick up the kids. 

Everything is in its proper place.

Until one sunny afternoon, Wanda hears a motorcycle.

She is not the only one who is curious about the sounds - Agnes and the neighbor across the street, Mrs. Bennet, are also on the sidewalk, trying to get a better look at who is arriving at the house next to Wanda's.

It is noisy, and out of the norm. The vehicle, the sound of the radio. The person, with dark jeans like glasses, and messy hair.

Something in Wanda's chest flutters as she meets your gaze, and she swallows dryly at the complete coldness in your eyes in turning away and getting off the bike, ignoring not only her but all the other curious neighbors as you make your way to the house next door, now with the 'sold' sign covering the previous 'for sale'.

She is back in her own living room in record time, her heart racing in a disconcerting way.

Well, that seems to be the end of the boredom at least.

For the next few days, Wanda is determined to find out everything she can about her mysterious new neighbor. Luckily for her, Agnes seems equally interested and shows up at her house shortly after the kids have left.

"[...] No children, or partners. The moving truck arrived earlier today, and I saw some painting supplies, which suggests we have an artist among us." Narrated the neighbor cheerfully, and Wanda tried to disguise how very interested she was. "Ralph also recognized an NYU sweatshirt, so she must have a degree. And she looks pretty young to me, doesn't she?"

Wanda nods, half thoughtfully. Your house was next door to hers, and at this point, she could hear some sounds of objects being dragged around that suggested you were tidying up the place. Agnes took advantage of the distracted silence to suggest:

"Maybe we should say hello?"

Wanda immediately raised her eyes. "You think?"

The older woman chuckled. "Of course. But let's bring something as a welcome gift to her. May I ask, are you good at baking, honey?"

You were wearing a half-open jumpsuit and pinned up your hair to answer the door, and Wanda was seeing too much skin to be able to say anything. 

Thank god Agatha was present.

"Welcome to the neighborhood, darling, we've brought you a welcome gift." She greeted cheerfully, and you blinked in surprise at her sudden arrival. "I'm Agnes, Wanda's next-door neighbor on the right. And you?"

You quickly said your name, accepting the other's greeting. "Let me put that away." You said as your gaze fell on Wanda and the cake she brought. She didn't notice that you took the warm package without any difficulty, busy returning Agnes's look of complicity as she took your cue of leaving to enter the house as well.

"Nice changes you're making all around, dear." Agnes commented on the new paint being put over the old, and you let out a short chuckle from the living room.

"Oh, thank you. I like this color better." You muttered as you placed the cake on the countertop.

"Forgive us for not coming sooner, we were waiting for you to stabilize yourself first." Said the older woman, and gave Wanda a gentle nudge for her silence. The witch cleared her throat softly, trying to start a decent conversation.

She - More Agnes honestly - ended up confirming that you had moved in alone and that you had just graduated from college. No family, and in your words, you allowed a dice to pick your new town. Agnes found the story a bit absurd, but Wanda felt her stomach fill with butterflies.

Something about your care·free attitude and casualness made her shiver. 

"Anyway, I'm here now." You finish with a small smile and your hands in your pockets. "Painting my new home in American suburban New Jersey."

There was regret or sarcasm hidden in your tone of voice that made Wanda's curiosity explode. She wanted to know you, inside out, every thought, dream, or wish.

But when she thought of peeking in, Agnes gave her a gentle nudge.

"Well, let's not take up any more of your time, dear." Said the lady, discreetly pushing the redhead toward the door. "Come by some time at the local club, you need to meet Ralph and Vision."

You blink, raising an eyebrow. "Vision?"

"My husband." Wanda replies half hoarsely, having completely forgotten Vis's existence for all that conversation. She clears her throat. "You two should-must meet. Him and my boys, Tommy and Billy."

You smile, and because Wanda is already outside, you put an arm around the doorpost and she feels her face heat up. "I'd love to, Miss Maximoff."

Agnes clears her throat. "And of course don't forget my husband, Ralph."

You don't take your eyes off Wanda. "Sure, Agatha."

Wanda frowns, but the woman next to her lets out a loud exclamation with a graceless laugh. "It's Agnes, dear!"

You blink away from the redhead, equally ungainly. "Oh, yes, of course, Agnes. My mistake."

"Come on, Wanda, let's just let her get back to work."

You offer the redhead a wink, and it's enough for Wanda to remember nothing strange about that encounter.

—//—-

Not that Wanda was counting, but it took six days for her to talk to you again.

She saw you before though - twice in the supermarket, and because Billy and Tommy were making a mess, Wanda didn't have the heart to disturb your choice of apples by approaching you, you didn't see her. And on Monday she watched you leave the house early with a little animal house under your arm, and she almost dropped her lunch to run and ask you about it, wondering if you had pets or not, but on second thought, she figured it would have been kind of creepy.

It was only on the weekend that you went to the club, and everyone was around, and Wanda thought she was going to suffocate.

Vision was rubbing sunscreen on the boys, and Wanda said she forgot a magazine in the car, but she just searching for you.

"Hey, stranger." She tried to greet you in the most casual way she could, getting the impression that you were a little startled by the soft jump you gave. But when you turned around, you smiled so sincerely that Wanda almost melted.

"Hello, Miss Maximoff, good to see you." You said gently.

Wanda giggled shyly. "When you call me that I feel very old."

You smiled with the worst intentions, licking your lips and making Wanda shudder with the intensity of your gaze.

"Old is not an adjective I would use to describe you, Wanda."

She sighed softly, her cheeks warm. "And how would you describe me?" She risks.

But you chuckle short and affected, lowering your gaze and shaking your head softly. "Married." You reply, and Wanda feels as if a bucket of cold water has fallen on her. "See you around, Miss Maximoff." You say as soon as the bike is locked, holding her arm in farewell before heading to the pool area. 

Wanda feels her skin tingle all the way back.

–//–

Okay, she clearly had a problem.

Her perfect life was being threatened by an inconvenience, and that should be completely impossible because everything should be perfect in Westview.

And the more Wanda tried to fix it, the more wrapped up in her throbbing attraction to her neighbor, drowning in plot after plot that only made her wonder how much she wanted to satisfy her curiosity and drove her more frustrated and irritated as time went by.

You seemed to be everywhere - Somehow, the school had an art program and now Wanda saw you every morning when she went to pick up or drop off Billy and Tommy, and of course, the boys loved their cool new teacher, and wouldn't shut up about it. But your presence seems to have influenced - in Vision's words - the young troublemakers in the neighborhood, who should be learning from your bad influence to do graffiti everywhere. Vision grumbled about this when not talking about work.

And Wanda, well, she had enough.

You found the knocking so late at night strange, but you were awake - or Wanda assumed you were, by the sweater and the speed in answering the door. Or maybe you were already waiting for her. No, that would be ridiculous.

"Can I help you...?" You started, but Wanda bumped into your shoulder as she rushed in, and you let out a wry laugh. "Sure, come on in."

She ignored your joke, making her way to the living room, and ran a hand through her hair nervously, waiting for you to reach her.

"What do you want Wanda?" You asked with your arms crossed.

Wanda took a deep breath. "You have to leave."

You frowned. "Excuse me?"

She stepped forward. "I have everything I ever wanted here. You can't just show up and threaten all of that."

You raised an eyebrow. "I don't-"

"I'm not done talking." She interrupts and you bite your tongue, a smile threatening to break on your lips as Wanda continues to approach. "I have a husband and children. It's perfect. Everything is...perfect."

"Then why are you here?" You challenge, and Wanda swallows hard.

"I don't know." She responds, but you chuckle, and it's your turn to start approaching to which she responds by taking a step back with each one you take near her. Once her back hits the wall of new, dry colors, Wanda chokes softly.

"I think I know." You begin toward her, one hand landing at the side of her head, and the other reaching up to move a strand of hair behind her ear. Wanda, though trembling over the touch, lifts her chin proudly, challenging your response. Your smile is cocky when you speak. "You are desperate to feel something real."

Wanda opens her mouth, once and twice, indignant. But she has no words to disagree. She takes a deep breath, and all your perfume fills her senses, and she resists the urge to close her eyes. She makes mention of speaking, but you do so first.

"Shh, let me show you how it is supposed to feel." You whisper before breaking the distance, and not too surprisingly, it is the best thing Wanda has ever felt. 

Your lips are soft and experienced on hers, almost as if molded to kiss her. You slide your tongue into hers as soon as permission is granted, and the sensation makes Wanda's legs buckle. She doesn't have to worry because your arms tighten around her and her back is pressed against the wall. The kiss grows hungry and you gasp against each other's mouths, hearts racing in synchrony.

"Fuck, I need to touch you." You pant between kisses, and it's the only line of warning Wanda has before she feels your hands invade her blouse, scratching at her belly and making her squirm. But suddenly you hesitate, and are almost unsure when you ask, "Can I? You... are you sure?"

Wanda almost laughs. She feels that she is burning from the inside out and that if you don't fuck her now she might have a little breakdown and you still have doubts that she wants to. There will be another time for her to investigate this, she will learn about you. At that moment she just brings one hand to your neck and spins you around on the wall so that your back hits the concrete.

And now when she kisses you it is firm and possessive and makes you whimper. Your hands wander and bring her pleasure, but it is clear who is in charge.

–//–

It starts out casual, but certainly, this is not how Wanda feels now.

Whenever the opportunity is there, she takes it. And honestly, part of her feels that the opportunities are blooming like flowers in spring. It's probably because Westview is supposed to be perfect, good, and amazing, and the only time she feels that way is in your company.

You haven't given a name to what you are doing, and Wanda doesn't want to think about the ring on her finger, not when you make her feel so good.

So you keep meeting her; with more and more ridiculous excuses than the previous ones, helping with a broken pipe, bringing supplies of paint even though Wanda doesn't paint anything, bringing schoolwork that the kids could pick up the other day, helping to mow the lawn, staying the afternoon for cake, tea, helping her with the grocery bags. And these were just the days that happened in her house.

After a while, you got the impression that Wanda didn't even worry about excuses anymore. Maybe it was your fault - for the way you have grown jealous of Vision and she knows it. She knows not because she tries to scan every inch of your mind in her frustrated attempts, but because every time you witness Vision showing any kind of affection, she is at the forefront of a rough and intense fucking session.

Like when Vision left for work last week while you were collecting the newspaper in your backyard and he thought it was a sweet idea to come back and kiss her before he left, and you barely waited for the kids to leave for school to come in the back door and fuck Wanda in the kitchen counter. 

Without her magic, she wouldn't be able to hide the marks of your lips on her body.

And despite the risk, Wanda loves it. 

But then it starts to scare her because she just might love a different thing.

Westview is a ticking time bomb. Wanda doesn't know it, but you do. Things happen to the breaking point, and it's in everything-from starting to ask questions that would require a little more thought that will make people stutter at the fantasy flaws, to immensely more pleasurable things, like affecting Wanda enough.

"Ah- kurva dieťa!" She cursed breathlessly, shuddering beneath you, her nails digging hard into your back. But your movements didn't fail, the fake cock thrusting inside her wet pussy with a delicious precision that made Wanda see stars. "D-don't stop-don-ah!"

You ripped orgasm after orgasm, until she was exhausted, begging for a break, the wet sheets of her juices beneath you.

"Just one more, my love. Just one more." You coerced so meekly that Wanda almost came with your voice alone, and this time your hands entwined with hers at the side of her head. And it was too intimate.

Your thrusts were deep, and with each movement of your hips, Wanda gasped, struggling for air as the knot in her belly prepared to break.

Her room around you however began to fail. The illusion sustained by her magic vibrating as if the transmission was failing. The sound drew you in, but as soon as your movement faltered and you made mention of looking away, she brought a firm hand to your chin and pulled you down as she entwined a leg around your waist.

She looked absurdly stunning beneath you, and there was no interest in looking away from her.

Wanda came so hard that the whole room vibrated, and you followed her, getting a satisfied moan when she felt the hot cum inside her.

You held her for the entire moment as you both calmed down from your orgasms, and this time, when you went to get up as you always did, she held you back.

"But..."

"No." She interrupted sleepily, pulling you back onto the bed so that she could hold you and lay on top of you. "No one will come. Stay here with me."

You didn't question, sliding your hands to wrap around her.

–//–

You're not surprised that Agatha rats you out. Time bomb after all. 

Still, seeing the look of hurt in Wanda's eyes breaks your heart into a thousand pieces.

"You too?" She asks with tears in her eyes, powerless in that dark basement you have just entered. 

"It's not what you're thinking." You try, but Agatha rolls her eyes impatiently.

"No time for Shakesperean drama, be honest, Y/N. Wanda is in need of facing the truth, for once in her life." Ironizes the witch, and you swallow dryly, taking a step forward but remembering not to cross the determined space of the runes.

"Witches everywhere have felt your magic, Wanda. But only a few have made it into Hex." You say. "Each came here with their own reasons."

"And why are you here?" Wanda asks wearily, and you sigh.

"It's hard to explain..."

"Nonsense." Agatha cuts in again, gesturing. "We all want power, in one way or another. No more games, or drama. Everyone wants to know how you did it, Wanda, and it's time for you to show us."

The redhead gives you one last hurt look before raising her chin to the older witch.

And you know she won't give anything up without a fight.

She wins, and Agatha is trapped in the only remaining illusion of what was once Westview.

You watch from a distance as Wanda goes to say goodbye to her family, and you don't intrude on that moment. You wouldn't want her to hate you even more.

Your motorcycle really is yours, so it is what you drive to get out of town.

Your grandparents' cabin has been your home since you completed your training at the Kamar Taj - and since you gave it all up for a quiet life in the mountains. 

You only have a few days since Westview in your familiar solitude, however.

"You are unbelievable." That's the first thing Wanda says as she appears in your yard, impatient and angry. "After everything that happened between us, you just walked away?"

You blink in surprise at the scene for a moment, but recover when she starts walking toward you.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me."

"Oh, but you will talk." She retorts with a poisoned sarcasm as she grabs your wrist to pull you inside the cabin. "You'll explain everything."

"Yes, ma'am." You murmured affectedly, Wanda pushing you in the first armchair and crossing her arms and tapping a foot, waiting.

You cleared your throat and told her everything - From the Hex power emission that alerted the Kamar Taj and made Wong recruit you to investigate, to the fact that you in theory were in Westview to undo the spell but you ended up getting distracted.

Wanda ignored the redness of your cheeks. "But Agatha said you wanted power."

You rolled your eyes. "That nosy old hag." You grumbled. "She was distorting things, but the way it all went down, I figured you wouldn't believe me. She had you in a basement and your kids locked up, and I was there, you see? Even if I tried to explain the whole story, you wouldn't believe me."

"And why didn't you help me? Why did you let her take the boys?" Inquired the impatient witch, and you swallowed dryly, bowing your head guiltily.

"I'm sorry, I... I have to admit that I wanted to see where that would go." You say, taking a deep breath. "Wanda it was all an illusion in that town. It was the best kind of magic I've ever witnessed, and when I arrived, Agatha approached me first. She told me that she was also there to investigate and that we didn't need to get in each other's way, we could even help each other."

Wanda narrowed her eyes. "In what way?"

You swallow dryly again. "I was there to undo the spell, and Agatha, well, she's a special kind of witch. She didn't lie, you know? When she said she takes power from those who don't deserve it. I heard that she made some kind of magical bargain, and now she is a collector. She would take your power and the spell would undo itself, so we'd both go home with what we wanted." You recount and settle uncomfortably on the couch, "B-but that was before you and I..."

Wanda looks away, running a hand through her hair. "We didn't mean anything, Y/N." 

A hint of pain hits your chest, but you give a sad laugh, "You're full of shit."

But your accusation makes Wanda look at you with tear-filled eyes. "You were going behind my back, waiting for the right moment to stab me. Everything we had was a lie, a game for you to gain my trust and make me vulnerable. You're the one who's full of shit."

You sigh, getting up. "A witch kidnapped a town and held the entire population hostage. I was offered a deal, I took it." You begin seriously. "I had no idea who you were, what was going on. It was never personal. I went there to accomplish my mission, and I never thought I would fall in love with you." Wanda's eyes widen, but you are not intimidated by her shock, and you continue talking, taking another step forward. "I didn't know how Westview worked exactly, but everything was all too real there. You had a family, a husband. And you were my target. And I was completely surrendered to you. You have to understand, Wanda, that I had to consider all the possibilities. That maybe you were enchanting me too, that everything that happened was just part of your desires reflected in the magic. Agatha knew how to use my uncertainties against me when I confronted her, wishing to end our partner because I didn't want you to get hurt."

Wanda's gaze softens, and when your hand reaches for her cheek, she doesn't pull away. 

You smile, "But I didn't have to worry. You totally kicked her ass."

Wanda moves her hand up to your wrist. "You could have told me." She whispers. "Or at least allowed me to take a look."

You smile in a corner, bringing your other hand to her cheek and enjoying the way Wanda leans into your touch.

"Haven't you ever heard the saying that we should only share our thoughts with our spouses?" You tease, rubbing your nose against hers and Wanda chuckles softly, sighing when your lips touch hers.

The kiss is tender, full of longing. And before she can deepen it, you break off, taking a deep breath with your forehead pressed against hers.

"You've got the book." You gasp softly, feeling the magical aura now. Wanda frowns softly, pulling her face away just to look at you. 

"Do you know it?" 

Her question makes you hesitate. But you force a smile and nod. Wanda catches every reaction, and proceeds to add:

"It is my only way to understand what I am." 

You swallow dryly, your hands caressing her cheeks.

"Just promise me that no matter what the book shows you, you will remember that I am here. You're not alone."

Wanda doesn't understand at first, a mixed expression of confusion and curiosity fills her face. But she nods, and breaks the distance, whispering I promise between kisses.

You both stumble into the bedroom, and the darkhold is left somewhere in the dining hall.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff smut

[moodywyrm]

worrisome - farmer! sevika

@pinknightsinmymind my love I cannot stop thinking about it. This is after Sevika becomes an official farmer and moves in with you, but before y’all are married.

farmer sevika x chubby / plus size reader (although it aint too too prominent)

It happens on a day that you’re off to market. you had less goods to sell, just a few jams and pastries, and – with Sevika having to tend to the crops – y’all decided you should go to market on your own. Well, less decided and more convinced and mollified Sevika before she could drive herself into an early grave worrying about you. 

She’d spent the whole day pulling taking care of the hens, feeding and entertaining the dogs, maintaining your sunflowers, and, of course, worrying over her girlfriend. So the second she hears the truck drive up to the farmhouse and the jingle of your keys as you step out, she’s sprinting from the field over to you, dogs in tow.

When she gets to the driveway, she slows down, trying to act all calm and composed as if you didn’t just see her book it. She walks up to the truck bed and leans her forearm against it, looking at you with a sparkle in her eyes.

“How was the market, darlin’?” She asks, watching you jump down from the truck and pull some empty containers and your tote bag from the backseat.

“Aw it was wonderful, sugar! I wish you could’ve gone, everyone was asking where you were, had to tell ‘em my big strong girl was taking care of the farm,” You tell her, handing her a bag of goods you no doubt traded for at the market. She could already see a few wrapped up pieces of cheese, some bread, and more jams sitting in your bags. The sound of your voice melts her anxiety away, doing a quick scan of your body to make sure you weren’t hurt or nothing. 

“Yeah? Mm, I’m sure they were all glad to see you, sweets,” She murmured, leaning in to kiss you before you shoved another bag into her arms. “Did our stand not sell today? What’s with all the bags?”

“Actually, we sold everything. All of this is from stuff I bought, traded for, or got gifted from people who thought you were out sick. Hope you like soup, because I just got two months worth of bullion from Nina,” You chide, pressing one last kiss to Sevika’s cheek before bounding up the steps into the farmhouse.

She follows you, watching the movement of your body as you walk to the kitchen. The softness of your hips, your thighs, your tummy, all visible in the little overall shorts you wore to market, made something in her chest want to reach out to you, pull you into her and never let go. 

“She really didn’t have to do that, I’m not sick.”

“Yeah, well, I told them that but they just wouldn’t listen. But hey, at least we got some food out of it? And don’t worry, I’m gonna make everyone some pastries as a thank you,” You rattle off as you put all the goods away, flitting around the kitchen as Sevika hands you items from the bags. You fill her in on the rest of your day, from the sweet lil kid who bought a strawberry croissant from you to the definitely gay ‘best friends’ who loved visiting your stall every Saturday. Sevika listened, watching you and letting all the anxiety ease out of her body, but there was still something in her that needed to take care of you, make sure you were okay. 

She waited until y’all had eaten dinner to act on those urges. Somehow, she’d managed to convince you to shower with her, desperate to get her hands on you.

“Hop in baby, I’ll be there in a second,”  She whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead after she helped you undress, running her rough hands down your soft curves, squeezing at the fat of your hips. You let out a needy hum, whispering out a soft ‘ok’ and climbing into the shower, letting the hot water flow over you. 

Sevika watched you for a second before yanking off her clothes, dirty from the day, sighing at the relief of having them off her body. Her skin felt sticky, dirty, and she needed a shower with her girl to fix that. 

She slipped into the shower behind you, shifting until she was under the shower head and you were facing her tits. She sees you get flustered, smirking when you snap your eyes up to look at her. 

“Hey there,” You whisper, already sounding like her needy girl. Sevika smirks at you, rubbing at your plush hips and kissing you, huffing at the whines you let out against her. When she pulls away, it’s with a string of spit connecting your lips and a hushed whisper.

“Mmm, calm down darlin’, we gotta get clean first.” 

You pout, but agree. As you wash her hair and scrub each other down, Sevika is merciless with her teasing. It’s not mean, no, just incredibly touchy and needy and gentle. Her rough hands cupping your breasts and grazing your nipples to clean them, sliding down your waist and over your thighs, kneading at your ass, your tummy, truly whatever she can get her hands on. By the time you two were done, you were dripping down your thighs. 

Sevika is silent, thinking, as she leads you to the bedroom. With a soft kiss to your knuckles, she guides you onto the plush bed, letting you sit in the middle. When you go to lay down, she holds out a hand and stops you.

“Don’t, I wanna try something different,” She murmurs, grabbing lube from the dresser and setting any toys you might want on the bedside table. You nod, patiently waiting for her to get on the bed. She passes you a soft towel to place beneath you, climbing onto the bed and helping you lay it out. Once it’s all settled, Sevika sits in front of you, looking uncharacteristically nervous. 

“What’s wrong, honey? You know you can tell me anything,” You say, reaching out for her hand. Sevika lets you intertwine your fingers, the point of contact grounding her. She was worried, all day. She knew you would be okay but she worried anyways, and now she felt almost silly for it. Like she needs to apologize. She knows you would never see it like that, but a part of her felt controlling, ugly, for being so worried.

“I’m sorry I was so worked up this mornin’,” She says, making shaky eye contact. 

“Sevika, it’s okay. I know you just want me safe,” You murmur, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

When she speaks, her voice is quiet, meek. She’s beating herself up over something inconsequential, but you know it’s because she’s scared. “I do, but I should be better at trusting you to do things on your own.” 

“Mm, yes, but we can work on that. I had fun today, and I knew I had my girl back home waiting for me, what more could I ask for?” You hum, crawling forward and pressing a kiss to Sevika’s lips, caressing her warm cheek. You’re soft with her, but you want to grab her by the shoulders and scream how much you love her, how much you need her and want her and love how she worries over you, but you stay gentle. You press soft kisses to her cheeks, feeling her grow warm, smiling when her free hands slides up to your hip, massaging the fat. 

“Can I apologize, fully? I did mean it when I said I wanna try something,” She mumbles against you, pressing your foreheads together and looking into your eyes. 

“You don’t have to apologize, but how could I ever say no to an offer like that? What is it you wanna try, Vika?”

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “I wanna try scissoring. Or, uh, tribbing? Still not sure what it’s actually called.”

“Oh. I’ve, um, I’ve never done that but I’m down to try,” You stutter out, heart racing at the idea. 

Sevika smiles, kissing you again before starting to maneuver you so that you’re both sitting up, one of your thighs over one of hers, and vice versa, cunts almost pressed against each other. She reaches back for the lube, drizzling some over your pussy and inner thighs, doing the same to her own. You’re watching her, hungry, certain that you’re dripping down your thighs all the same. 

You nearly whine when Sevika starts spreading the lube over you, rubbing your inner thighs and your mound before trailing down and toying with your swollen clit. Your head tips back, whining out a soft “Fuck, Vika, please.”

“I know, oh I know sugar, just be patient,” She hums, pressing your clit a little rougher before spreading the lube around her own center. The brush of her calloused fingers against her clit makes her twitch, so unbelievably needy for her girl, but she resists. Once she deems you both sufficiently warmed up, Sevika places one hand on your hip, tugging you forward until your cunts meet. 

And god, the warmth makes her head spin. It’s all so warm and wet, she can feel the slick heat emanating from you. And you’re so soft, the fat of your thighs and your pussy pressing into her, driving her insane. Sevika moans, unable to hear anything but your whimpers and, when she starts moving, the nasty slick noises from between your legs. 

“Fu-fuck, Jesus Christ, honey,” She groans, grinding against you and feeling her clit pushing against your wet pussy. She can just feel your clit, hard and needy, pressing into her. It’s turning her into a fucking mess, the way your grinding into her and whining, soft body jiggling with each thrust. The movement of your chest makes her mouth water, wanting desperately to suck on your nipples.

You’re not much better, already trying to hold back an orgasm. The way Sevika’s hair is grinding against your clit makes you whimper, your needy hole clenching against her. She looks gorgeous, her tits bouncing and her dark nipples looking unbelievably good. You wanna bite them, suck on them and hear her whine for you. The thought only serves to make you grind against her harder. 

“Feels – fuck– feels so fucking good baby,” You huff, one hand reaching out to rub at Sevika’s abs and tits. Sevika grunts, grinding harder and getting frustrated that you weren’t close enough. 

She reaches out, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer, choking out a moan  at the contact. Somehow, it’s even hotter and wetter, the tight slide of your cunts making her head fuzzy. She’s pulling you into her with every grind of her hips, grunting as she does and driving you insane. There’s little you can do but whine and scramble for her, grinding against her and crying. 

You’re basically sitting in her lap, having let her sit up with her legs folded under her to better pull you into her. You’re close enough to kiss her now, close enough to suck on her nipples. You bite one and she whimpers, pulling you into her even harder and tilting your head up with her free hand. She pulls you into a kiss, tears welling up at the feel of your soft pussy grinding against her clit so well. It’s all so intense, you well Sevika completely take over as you feel yourself getting closer. 

She’s giving you deep thrusts, grinding as if she was wearing her strap, making you leak all over her. “Vika, baby, ‘m close – fuck – ‘m so close.” 

Your gasping whines make her shake, pulling you into another kiss and grinding harder and harder until she feels the knot burst, tugging you into a hug and holding your entire body as she quakes. She feels you cum against her, trembling in her hold as she grunts, gasping for air as her orgasm rips through her. 

You feel like you’re on fire, cunt leaking and clenching against Sevika’s pussy, clit throbbing. It’s divine, what Sevika does to you, and this orgasm is proof. 

As you come down, you two are panting, holding each other and placing little kisses wherever you can. Sevika lets you down slowly, laying you against the bed and sidling up next to you, laying on her side and trailing one gentle hand up your tummy. 

“How was that, sugar?” She asks, tone teasing and loving all the same. You giggle, turning onto your side to look at her and press a kiss to her nose.

“We gotta do that more often,” You mumble, pressing kisses to her lips, feeling her hands grip onto your hips and slowly making you straddle her. 

“Mmm, how about we try a different position this time, then?” She murmurs, voice deep and low and needy. You smile, slotting your pussies against each other for round two. 

#arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika smut #sevika x reader smut #arcane sevika smut

[shiftythrifting]

Something weird (it's a Kijiji ad,I can't screenshot it for some reason but I can download images?) that's VERY shifty.

See this truck? I know it well. It belonged to a close friend of mine (he had bought it for $40 off someone else when his van was stolen, they only sold it that cheap because it had issues and was registered as stolen, and he was only using it until he got his other one working). We were driving it in the summer and boiled over the radiator.

Then, while trying to get it back to town, he got a fire call. You'll see it still has the fire department stickers. Well, because the radiator boiled over AGAIN so he put some scrap metal under the hood to increase air flow and then bungeed it down.

The hood flew up on the highway and wrecked the windshield; the hood was trashed too.

The literal next day someone drilled out the locks, and his other truck was almost ready so he gave it to a friend so they could kill it the rest of the way. His friend tried and yet could not kill it, and someone bought it off him.

Since that point, it's changed hands at least twice. It's got almost double the kilometers on it. The current seller is refusing to look up the background for the truck so we figure they already checked and learned it's stolen goods.

So yeah, shifty thrifted truck that literally should just be scrapped? They're selling it for $4000. We know as a fact it has a ton of issues that probably were not fixed, not to mention it's literally illegal to really sell...

#thrifting #shiftythrifting #submission #vehicles #shifty thrifting #shiftylisting #stolen #lol damn #you're paying for the backstory

[limedane21]

It’s God’s Will [Vash X Reader][2/3]

Word Count: ~2.4k Description: The gang wakes up after a night of celebration. Problem is no one remembers the night and there might have been a wedding? [Part 1] [Part 3]

“Huh?” you said, opening the envelope and pulling out a group of photos.

“Your marriage,” he clarified before heading to the backroom.

Oh. As expected all the photos were from last night, most you assumed between the hours of one and five. And almost all were of that wedding you dreamed of which made your heart ache. You picked up an image of Vash kissing your cheek as you showed off your ring to the camera.  You wished all of this wasn’t some weird alcohol-induced scenario. You really felt bad for Vash. He doesn’t even know what happened but you still felt selfish holding onto this night. Shaking your head, you focused on what images you could show the rest of the group. 

You picked out all the photos of the group still at the bar and a few from the wedding that weren't obvious, like Meryl taking a pic of herself downing a large glass of booze and Wolfwood getting shoved into the confessional by you and Meryl. You took a look at all the photos, at some point Vash had the camera and a lot were of you. There was a series of the camera getting closer and closer until you started shoving the camera back, laughing. 

You glanced around the counter and picked up an additional envelope and put the separated photos into them. Stuffing the envelopes into your pack, you exited the store and looked around for any sign of the children and Vash. You saw a group of children run around a corner and you jogged over hoping they would lead you to Vash. 

You kept a reasonable distance behind them as they weaved through the streets. Eventually, you spotted Vash and the increasing gaggle of children looking at a window display As you walked up, you realized it was a pawn shop. You looked into the display to see Vash’s arm front and center.

“Uh,” you didn’t know where to start.

“I can’t even afford my own arm back,” Vash sadly laughed, “Look at how much they want for it.”

You glanced at the price tag, “Six thousand double dollars?!”

The children were starting to get annoyed about the lack of ice cream and made their complaints known, grabbing onto you and Vash’s shirts.

“We need to get Wolfwood to see this,” you said before turning to the children, “Alright guys, you did a good job. Let’s get that ice cream.”

The children immediately grabbed your hands, dragging you to the nearest dessert shop. Vash followed, laughing. 

Your wallet was much more empty now that you fed a town’s worth of children. You stared at it sadly before tucking it back into your pack.

“Did you find anything else from the photos?” Vash asked, he was carefully holding both your cones in one hand.

You took yours, “A lot of the photos didn’t show up but it seemed like we went to the church and continued to party there.”

“That’s weird,” Vash said, sitting down on a bench and eating his ice cream.

You joined him, “Agreed, all things currently point to Wolfwood.”

You both continued to eat your ice cream as the children scattered. They had their treats so they were done with you and Vash.

“I wonder if he sold it or traded it for something,” you voiced your thoughts; something in the back of your mind was telling you it had something to do with the rings.

Vash hummed, finishing his cone before turning to you, “We should find him.”

You sighed, not exactly wanting to deal with the nosey priest, “Alright.”

You both got up and started back to the hotel. On the way, you passed by the truck, finding Meryl and Wolfwood packing. Well, Meryl was packing; Wolfwood was leaning with his cross on the vehicle, smoking.

“Hey, guys,” Vash waved, walking over.

“Did the photos help?” Meryl asked, shutting the back door.

“That depends,” you said, pulling out one of the envelopes and showing them the photograph where the undertaker had Vash’s arm, “Want to explain how Vash’s arm wound up at a pawn shop, Wolfwood?”

“What?” Wolfwood grabbed the photo, pulling up his glasses to see better.

He started laughing as he handed it to Meryl. She also burst out laughing.

“You two are so cute,” Meryl commented on you and Vash.

You hoped your blush wasn’t as obvious as Vash’s.

“Do you remember why my arm is in a pawn shop?” Vash said.

Wolfwood shrugged, “Can’t say I do.”

“C’mon then, let’s see if the shop owner knows anything,” Meryl said, already heading in the direction of the pawn shop.

You and the others followed. Vash grabbed Wolfwood’s arm, “They want six thousand double dollars for it. How are we supposed to afford that?”

“I must have got a shit deal then if they’re charging that much,” Wolfwood replied, adjusting his cross.

“Surely you woke up with something you don’t remember having,” Meryl said.

“Nope.”

“That’d just make it harder to get my arm back,” Vash whined.

“We’ll figure something out,” you encouraged.

Vash pouted but didn’t say anything else.

Wolfwood, Meryl and you entered the pawn shop while Vash pressed his forehead and hand against the glass, staring at his arm, sadly.

“Hello, name’s Lukas. How can I help you?” a young man greeted.

“Hi,” Meryl walked up to the counter, “We were wondering if one of us might have sold that arm to you last night?”

“Yeah, the priest,” Lukas pointed at Wolfwood.

The undertaker shook his head and muttered, “Oh great,” before walking over to the counter, “So, obviously I was drunk last night and can’t remember a damn thing but that’s my friend’s arm so we’re going to need it back.”

Lukas crossed his arms, shaking his head, “No can do. Unless you have what you traded for it, I can’t just give it back.”

“Look, he’s practically crying,” Wolfwood gestured to Vash at the window.

“I think he is crying,” Meryl whispered before heading out to comfort Vash.

“Sorry, you have to have the rings,” Lukas continued unbothered.

“Rings? I don’t have any damn rings on me,” Wolfwood replied, leaning on the counter, “That’s your town’s savior out there, are you really going to hold his arm hostage cause I may or may not have bought rings?”

Wolfwood then turned to you, “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

“Nope,” you lied.

“LUKAS DAMON GRAYSON!” an older woman’s voice shrilled from the back, coming closer when the woman herself walked into the room, “Did you swindle someone else again?”

Lukas immediately paled, “N-no, I was just helping business.”

The woman, who seemed to be Luka’s mother, put her hands on her hips, “Oh? And how much were those rings worth?”

Lukas looked down and muttered something.

“What was that?” Lukas’s mother cupped her ear, leaning toward her son.

“Four hundred double dollars,” Lukas still mumbled but loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I knew you ripped me off you little weasel,” Wolfwood dropped his cross, leaning it against the counter threatenedly.

“You don’t even remember it, drunkard,” Lukas quipped back.

You instantly held Wolfwood’s arm as he tried to vault over the counter. Lukas’s mother grabbed Lukas’s ear.

“This is why I told you not to open shop so late at night. Now give these nice people the arm back,” Lukas’s mother let go of her son and he scurried over to the window case.

You saw Vash’s face light up as he saw Lukas take out the arm and the blonde quickly ran into the shop, grabbing his arm from Lukas.

“I'm sorry for the trouble my son caused,” the woman said, “Don’t worry about those rings.”

“Rings?” Vash looked up from analyzing his arm.

“Nothing,” you said, a bit too quickly before grabbing Vash’s arm and dragging him out of the shop, “Let’s get you put together.”

You found a bench outside and held Vash’s sleeve up as he set his arm in, stretching out his arm and individually moving his fingers to make sure it was fitted properly. You pulled out the envelope of non-wedding photos and handed it to Meryl who was leaning forward on the back of the bench.

“Most of the photos didn’t show, but it looks like we crashed a church,” you said.

Meryl opened the envelope and pulled out a couple of photos, showing them to Wolfwood who was next to her. You pulled out the rest yourself and handed them to Vash. you watched over his shoulder as he went through them. One was of Wolfwood tripping Meryl, the photo captured just as she was falling mid-scream. Another featured you hiding in Vash’s coat with Vash holding his arms up, well one and a half arms. Vash giggled at that one as Meryl and Wolfwood were laughing behind you at the photos they were sharing.

“Looks like a wedding,” Wolfwood casually commented.

You hoped no one noticed you flinch.

“Are you still hungover, what are you talking about?” Meryl questioned the undertaker.

A week passed and the townsfolk have given you all a vacate house to stay in until you decided to leave. The house only had three bedrooms which Wolfwood had decided you and Vash would share one while he and Meryl got their own. Vash was quick to offer himself the couch for your comfort but you couldn’t allow it. It’s not like there was only one bed anyway.

You and Vash split the room, similar to how your original hotel room was set up; you got the right side and Vash the left. It was midday as you sat on your bed, looking out a window. Vash was playing with the children somewhere in town and Meryl was writing reports in her room. You didn’t know where Wolfwood went, but he was probably keeping an eye on Vash.

You had bought a lock box for the rings and photos and had tied the rings to a string to keep them together. The box laid on your lap as you shifted through the photos, a habit you had picked up. You let yourself roughly once a day pretend it was all real. Of course, the action always made you feel shameful and selfish but you couldn’t help yourself, let alone forget that night. You were sure the others knew about the box, but they haven’t come up to you about it and you had no plans on answering any questions they may ask.

“Hey, Y/N,” Meryl walked in without knocking.

You dropped the photos you were holding and slammed the box shut, locking it with your key.

“Yes?” You asked, clearly spooked and flustered.

Meryl just eyed the box before looking back at you, “We’re going out for lunch, coming?”

“Yeah, give me a second,” You said, getting up with the box in hand.

“Uh-huh,” Meryl left, shutting the door behind her.

You knew Meryl was eventually going to ask you about it. You put the box in a drawer and hid it under some spare clothes. You kept the key on a chain that you put around your ankle. Grabbing your boots from the other side of the room, you put them on.

You met the others outside, Vash had come back from playing with the kids with Wolfwood in tow. The undertaker had his cross over his shoulders as usual.

Vash had his ever-present smile as he turned to you and waved before Meryl pushed through everyone and started to lunch, “C’mon, I'm starving.”

Wolfwood followed, leaving you and Vash behind.

“Where did you go?” Vash asked, walking next to you.

“I needed some quiet time,” You answered, noticing how Vash’s hand brushed against yours as you walked.

When his hand touched yours again, you just opted to grab it, “How were the kids?”

“They never seem to tire,�� Vash replied. You can see how exhausted he was from all the running he was doing.

The group made it to the restaurant and sat outside on the porch area. Vash sat to your right and Wolfwood on your left, leaving Meryl across from you. The waitress grabbed your drink and food orders and it didn’t take long for said food to arrive. The group happily indulged themselves, not really talking as you focused on the food.

You were about to take another bite from your sandwich when you had a strange feeling wash over you like you were being watched. You looked up to see Vash turn an unnatural color.

“I don’t feel g-” Vash’s eyes unfocused as he started to wobble in his chair.

“What?” Wolfwood said before gunshots fired behind you and the undertaker.

You and Meryl rushed to Vash’s side, both grabbing an arm.

“Oh great, it’s those losers again,” Wolfwood said, before unraveling his cross and pulling out a handgun to fire back, “Go get Vash to help, I’ll take care of the gang.”

You and Meryl lifted Vash up and went to the town’s hospital. Vash was still semi-conscious as you dragged him through the streets. Screams and gunfire could be heard as you turned corners.

You felt Vash get heavier, “Hey, stay with us.” Vash groaned in response but became more conscious.

“There is no way Vash getting ill all the sudden isn’t a coincidence,” Meryl said, readjusting Vash’s arm on her shoulders.

The three of you finally made it to the hospital; the gunshots were distant now as you pulled Vash inside, yelling for help. Nurses flocked over and they took him to the doctors while you and Meryl were questioned by another nurse.

“We think he was poisoned,” Meryl said.

You felt your hands starting to clam up. You’ve been with Vash to know he constantly got into trouble and hurt like this but that never stopped your anxiety from spiking in these moments. Your logical side was fighting your very, very emotional side as you tried to convince yourself that Vash will be okay. What if you don’t get to tell him? Your brain always asked that question when he got hurt.

“Y/N!” Meryl brought you back to reality, shaking your shoulders, “C’mon, let's get a seat.”

“What about Wolfwood?” you asked, he might need help.

“I’m here dummy,” Wolfwood said, there was blood on his clothes but with the way he was standing, his cross slung over his shoulder, you figured it wasn’t his.

You all were taken to a waiting room while the doctors treated Vash. You tried to distract yourself by reading a newspaper but you couldn’t focus on the words and instead slammed it back on the table. Your leg bounced while you fidgeted with your hands.

“Jesus, relax will ya?” Wolfwood said, “Vash is tough.”

You glared at the undertaker, annoyed, “I know.”

[Part 1] [Part 3]

#vash x reader #vash x gn!reader #vash x you #trigin stampede #vash the stampede #vash #thanks to that one user who reminded me to update

[shadowmaat]

A Tale of Misdelivery

A while back my best fiend, slwalker, visited to hang out. She likes drinking tea and was appalled to discover I don't have a kettle, so she ordered one off Amazon for me to fill the kettle-shaped hole in my life.

A few days after she left, it was delivered (she knew it wouldn't get here til she was gone). I've been using it for cocoa ever since. Which should be the end of the story.

HOWEVER.

Best fiend has a clutch of adorable kitty cats. Those kitty cats like to eat and were running out, so she ordered more food off Amazon to be delivered to her house. You can probably guess where this is going.

I was mystified to find an Amazon package sitting on my doorstep. Not only because I hadn't ordered anything, but because it had been dropped off by the USPS truck and traditionally they either leave it at the end of the driveway by the mailbox or they leave a slip saying I have a package.

I opened it up, saw the cat food, and knew exactly what had happened. I let Best Fiend know and made plans to drop the food off at the animal shelter after the weekend.

This is where it gets convoluted.

It's Monday, but I haven't had a chance to get to the shelter yet. I did, however, get a visit from my aunt, who had just left after going for a walk with my mom.

In the back of her car she had an Amazon package. For me. She'd been to the post office because, unlike me, she has a PO box. She got a notice she had a package, picked it up, and as she put it in the car, realized it had MY name on it, so she dropped it off on her way back home.

I didn't have to open it to know what it was and informed Best Fiend that another package had been misdelivered by Amazon. She, however, said that it was just the second half of the original order. Which somehow wound up with my aunt's PO box.

Here's where it gets fun.

My aunt got divorced and has gone back to her maiden name, so it isn't like they just saw the surname and got mixed up. Which could be a case of someone at the post office knowing who both of us are and making a weird connection.

HOWEVER.

It's worth noting that my aunt had a son who did share my surname. He got married and inherited our grandmother's house, which is two down from me. When he died, his widow sold the house and moved in with Aunt until she could get new housing arrangements finalized. So she (and her kids) have the right surname and lived two houses down, which makes it possible that someone saw the surname and street address and went "AHA! Mail forwarding!" which is how it wound up with my aunt.

That still doesn't explain how two parts of the same order got delivered to two different addresses (both of them technically wrong), but between Amazon's general fuckery and the mess the US postal system has become thanks to DeJoy, anything could have happened. We should probably be glad we got both boxes at all.

The shelter, at least, will be able to put the food to good use. I think they only have one cat in at the moment, but there will always be more, and they also have a program to make food available to cat owners who otherwise have trouble affording supplies. It all works out. Just weirdly.

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #32: Redmond

Masterlist

content: past starvation

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The truck stop had a store beside it. It was a warm morning, considering they were in the middle of winter. There were still not many people around. He was hungry.

The hunger came on with a violent force and speed, waking him up before the sunshine or Heather ever could. Now that Jackie had access to soup and tea and such luxuries, it seemed that his appetite had returned. His head ached, his limbs ached, his chest ached, and his guts shredded themselves into knots. It was a desire that drowned out all other wants, suffocated all thoughts, as sudden and intrusive as a bullet wound. 

It was a wonder, really, how he survived this long without any proper sustenance. He could believe in gouged eyes, severed limbs, and charred skin, but surviving extreme starvation was a little ridiculous. As an esteemed biochemist once said: was he a fucking plant? That wouldn’t make any sense, either. There was no sunlight in the basement. Those pages of Oliver Twist he gnawed on couldn’t have possibly been enough. But his biology didn’t care for such intricacies. He needed to deal with it immediately, and he would suffer immensely until these demands were met.

“Heather.”

“Yes, Jackie?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d be digging my own grave. I feel like I’m gonna keel over. Or puke.” He put his head against her shoulder. “I’m starving. Can I get—I don’t know, whatever this truck stop sells. I could eat a horse right now.”

“I’ll get you something. Don't be so dramatic.” She unlocked her door. “Do you think you can walk?”

“I can walk. A little.”

“Then you’re coming with me.” Heather cleared her throat. “Listen carefully. If anybody asks, your name is Elijah Smith. You’re my boyfriend, and we’re here on holiday. Don’t talk to anybody unless prompted. Try not to look so… I don’t know, inexplicably exhausted? Try to act natural.”

“Your boyfriend?” He cocked his head to one side, grinning.

“Funny you should mention that. I actually spent a lot of time thinking about this. You could pretend to be my brother, but the problem is that I’m an only child. Any investigator with half their wits could read my files and find out we’re lying. I’m not married, either, and I’ve never been divorced, so you can’t take my hypothetical husband’s name. You could be my friend, obviously, but that would sound suspicious. We will be sleeping in the same room, after all. People think romantic relationships are more important, and I’d rather not elicit any strange looks if we check into a hotel together. Any attention is bad attention. That about covers it, I think. Oh, and I don’t think you could ever pretend to be my dad. No offense, but you barely look twenty.”

"...Oh. Okay."

“By the way, if you’re planning to yell for help, don’t bother. I’ve got a pistol in my bag.” She opened the car door. There were sounds of seagulls—were they near water?—and the distant murmur of wind, as well as the dull roar of trucks above all that. “Come on. We don’t have all day.”

He left the car as well, and managed to stand up despite the debilitating sensation in his stomach. The air was rich with the scent of lake scum and dead fish, and quite a bit warmer than the biting breeze he’d felt the night before. There were a few trucks around, and one or two cars. A stray candy wrapper crashed and stumbled across the concrete. The yellow plastic was so vivid to him. Brilliant as a sheaf of gold, catching the sunlight like a newly cut jewel. It was lovely to be outside again.

Heather took his hand, a little too tightly, and they walked into the store. A bell rang above the doorway. It was not very big, but not crowded either. Its stock was similar to a convenience store, except they also sold pastries and coffee. No tea. He hadn’t seen this much food since… well. There were no polite euphemisms for kidnapping. It was hard for Jackie to take his eyes off the strudels and croissants, even as Heather spoke to him.

“I don’t know if they have soup,” she said in a low tone. “Do you think you can eat something else?”

He nodded. “I want a muffin. Can I have a muffin?”

“Alright, I’ll buy a muffin. Go look at some hunting knives or something. Don’t leave the store, though. I’ll come over when I’m done.”

He glanced over to the aisle of hunting knives. “Why do they have so many?”

“Lord knows.” She let go of his hand. 

He was left standing there, feeling rather lost in such a public space. 

He could have screamed. He could have run outside and kept running until his lungs went raw, or until the police found him. But to risk losing Heather’s trust would be suicide—no, a kamikaze, considering how much was at stake for her. And he would never get that muffin. Besides, he did sympathize with her situation. It wasn’t easy being on the run. He didn’t have to make things difficult for her. 

Either way, the cost of failure was too high. It was hard to forget the scars along his chest, or the burns on his skin. Escape was a pipe dream best left to rot.

The hunting knives were not particularly interesting, but they were something new, and he was always craving something new lately. They were small, curved on the edges. Used for skinning animals, he assumed. He didn’t think such a tiny knife could kill anything. But they were probably meant to be souvenirs, rather than actual tools. Some of them had little designs on the handles. There was one with the words Redmond, Washington on it, under the city’s pine tree symbol.

Redmond? We aren’t in Seattle anymore? Did Heather even live in Seattle? He had always assumed so. His old apartment was in Seattle. But it wasn’t a stretch to assume she’d gone hunting out of town, so to speak. She could have driven across the state in order to abduct her newest organ donor, even across the country. They couldn’t have reached a new state so quickly, though, so she probably still lived somewhere in Washington. Also, didn’t she have an address? Obviously. Everyone did. Why didn’t he check the address above her garage? There had to be one, but it had completely slipped his mind. I’m such an idiot. That’s why I got into this mess in the first place.

“Here’s your muffin.”

He jumped. “Shit, Heather, you could have said hello first. How do you walk so quietly?”

“You’re just zoned out half the time. You wouldn’t notice me if I came in with a tuba and a clown nose.” She gave him the muffin. In her other hand was another coffee, in a cup made out of green paper. “We can eat in the car. Come on.” 

He followed her to the door. The bell rang above their heads, one last time. The birds continued to screech, somewhere unseen in the bright blue sky.

The smell of stagnant water returned, but only until they entered the car again, where it was quickly replaced by the smell of leather seats. Jackie shifted to get as comfortable as he could, while Heather tapped her fingers on the wheel.

He studied his muffin. It had chocolate chips. He hadn’t eaten chocolate in… he wasn’t sure, actually. There had been a chocolate cake, at some point. So many shiny, new things. He was a magpie in a jeweler’s house, so fascinated by all these wonders of life. Another shiny, new thing to pass the time. 

He liked muffins. He wanted to eat it. Of course. Obviously. Why wouldn’t he? He was so hungry, God. He couldn’t imagine going on a strike now. He would faint first. The craving was so strong that he didn’t know how to even start. He hadn’t eaten in so long. 

“What’s wrong with the food?” she asked.

“Sorry.” He kept his stare down. Didn’t Heather have a thing against apologies? Too late now, anyway. He just needed to eat. He needed to get it over with. It made him sick, rising with a feeling like nausea in his stomach. His vision came unfocused, like rows of tilting mirrors, like the world was tilting on its axis. But he couldn’t look away, or stay still any longer.

“You know what, I think I forgot something in there.” Abruptly, Heather opened the car door and stepped outside. “Don’t wait for me. Bye.”

He turned towards her, but she was already gone, and he was by himself. 

He let out a short, shaky exhale. She definitely didn’t forget anything. It was surely a lie. Besides, it wasn’t like Heather to leave him unattended. She was probably watching from somewhere remote, where he couldn’t see her. But that was what mattered: he couldn’t see her, couldn’t feel her stare.

She’d done it for his sake, to give him that thin veneer of privacy. Was it guilt, or apathy? Disgust at his weakness? Or maybe even kindness, despite his better judgment. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump

#whump #whump writing #my writing #Spiderwebs toyybox #carewhumper #Truck stops are great #No road trip is complete without the chance to finally leave the car and eat a donut or something

[final-girl96]

STOLEN HEARTS CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

FALL 1989

YN

It's been four years since Eddie and the band got discovered at the Hideout. My dad made sure he was by their side at my request so they didn't get screwed over, and everything went smoothly. They recorded a song and put it out into the world. People loved it, and Corroded Coffin blew up overnight. They went on to record their first album, The Upside Down, and sold over a million copies in less than a week.

Now, they were getting ready to go on their first tour. When Eddie got his first paycheck, the first thing he did was make sure his uncle Wayne was taken care of. He bought him a new trailer and a truck and made sure he had money in his bank account. Then he and I moved out to Los Angeles. We stayed in my old house at least for now until we could get our own place. Things were great. Eddie always wanted me by his side for everything. I was used to this kind of life he and the guys weren't.

But eventually, they did get used to it and loved it. They loved the attention they got from people. Well, they mostly loved all the attention from the girls they got. With Eddie being the lead singer, he was the most popular. Girls threw themselves at him. There have been multiple occasions where some girl came up to him, ignoring I was even under his arm or on his lap, and asked him out or gave him their numbers.

I always had to remind myself that I'm the one that he looked for in a crowd. I'm the one he went home with. I'm the one who has his heart. Not all these groupies who can't keep their eyes and something their paws off of him. At first, Eddie always backed away or cut them off before they could do or say anything. Now he pretty much encourages it, and although I understand how this life works, I could feel jealousy bubble up inside of me.

It was like Stacy all over again. I still get those thoughts of her showing up out of nowhere one day, and Eddie deciding he would rather be with her. I get thoughts that he's going to get sick of me and pick one of these desperate groupies. There were some nights when the guys would pick a girl each from the audience and have them brought backstage. Sometimes, they would end up taking them back to the hotel we were staying at or to a club.

Eddie was the only one to not pick a girl from the audience because he had me. That changed a month ago when the guys convinced him to let a group of girls who were friends come backstage and go to a club. After the concert was over and I said goodbye to Eddie, telling him I would see him later. I hadn’t been feeling good, so I wanted to go back to the hotel and take something and try to get some sleep. He said he wouldn't be out too long, but he didn't return back to the hotel until five in the morning. I tried to sleep but couldn't, not when he wasn't in bed with me.

Eddie and I have had a good relationship. We didn't fight too often, and we respected each other. There was always communication between us, so if one of us was mad or upset, we would just talk about it and find a solution. The night my dad walked into my room and we ended up walking out of the house and getting in Eddie's van. When I told Eddie to just drive, we ended up going to the clearing he took me to after prom. I lost my virginity that night under the stars.

We can hardly keep our hands off each other now. Eddie always needs to touch me when I'm close to him. I stand on the side of the stage where he can see me every night he has a concert. After the concert is over, he's always seeking me out, wrapping me in his arms and kissing me before he even gives anyone else his attention.

So when he came stumbling into the room at five in the morning completely wasted and crashed on the bed without even acknowledging my presence, I was confused and a little concerned, but I let it go. It's become more frequent since then. I was tired of the constant partying. Tonight was the last night in New York, and in the morning, we would be moving onto Philadelphia for three days before going to Ohio m. Tonight, I was going to tell Eddie I wanted to spend a night alone together before getting on the bus with the guys the next morning for a few hours.

They had another sold-out concert tonight. The stadium was packed with fans screaming, crying, and singing along with them. They were finishing up their last song, and then Eddie would thank the fans and throw his bandanna into the crowd. The one he always wore in high school was safely tucked away in a safe at home.

He had bought another one for his first concert and on a whim threw it into a crowd of fans when they first blew up who stood outside our hotel. Now, every night after a concert, he takes the one he's wearing and throws it into the crowd of fans. They went feral for it. But he wasn't the only one throwing things. Girls would throw their panties and bras on stage at his feet. He always just kicks them out of the way and looks over at me, smiling.

After he said thank you and good night, he threw the bandanna into the crowd and rushed off stage towards me. His arms wrapped around my waist, picked me up off my feet, and spinning me around. When he put me back down, his lips found mine in a short but sweet kiss. "I love you so fucking much." I hummed and kissed him one more time. "I love you too."

The crowd was chanting his name demanding an encore. "You better go and give them what they want before they come find you themselves." He chuckled and laced his fingers with mine. "We were thinking of going to that new club tonight and celebrating before we move on," he said. I sighed and looked down. "I–um–I was thinking maybe me and you could go back to our room and spend some much needed time alone," I said, dancing my fingers up his chest and looking up at him through my lashes.

A huge grin took over his face, and he pulled me tight against him. I could feel him getting hard through his black jeans he had on. "Only if you're a good girl and come out here with me for the encore." He said, hands tangled in my hair so he could pull my head back to look up at him more. "Eddie, you know…" I yelped when his other hand came down on my ass. "Let me rephrase that. You're going to be a good girl and come out on stage with me while I do my encore and then I'm taking you back to our room and fucking you until you can't fucking remember your own damn name."

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie muson x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #rockstar au #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar #rockstar eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things rocking au #stranger things x you #strangers things x yn #eddie munson x y/n #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #joe quinn #joseph quinn #joseph quinn stranger things

[unproduciblesmackdown]

more from the 2011 "the bus" kickstarter's updates via james lantz:

2. We're designing and building our set. We're so lucky to have Michael Schweikardt designing our set. Our director, John Simpkins, and Michael have been working together for years, so it's great to have this team behind The Bus. To give you some idea of some of the talent behind our show, The Wall Street Journal recently said of Michael's set for the acclaimed Goodspeed Musical's production of Showboat, "Michael Schweikardt's compact yet rich-looking sets deserve a prize for sheer ingenuity." Michael is definitely bringing some of that ingenuity to our show at 59E59 -- check out the photo essay below of our work-in-progress set for The Bus. Pictured are our Vermont artisans, John Maurier of Champlain Metals who is building the platform structure, and Mark Dabelstein, our set builder (who worked outside in the rain today ripping out an old gas pump!) 

I have to be quiet right now because I'm preparing this update in the middle of rehearsal so that's why I'm typing lightly (tap, tap, tap...) but I couldn't wait because I really wanted to share an idea with you.... [...] ps. This is my view of rehearsal right now (plus 2 other pics from rehearsal)

Last night I was walking from the rehearsal studio to grab a bite to eat and I passed by our soon-to-be home, 59E59 Theaters -- and there, in front of the theater, was a postcard kiosk with the brand new postcards for The Bus loaded and ready for people to pick up.  Suddenly feels like we're official! (In a couple of days, I can't wait for our two actors, Will and Bryan to see their faces on a HUGE 10' poster in the theater windows!)  [...] You're becoming a topic of conversation, too! New Yorkers are interested in how we crowd-funded our entire play. One industry guy told me, "Look, I'm used to dealing with a handful of wealthy investors to put on my plays -- but 450 people, some who've donated less than $10 -- never heard of that before!" We also got a call from a publicist who inquired about the possibility of a reporter following us to Topeka to write about a crowd-funded play on the road. We'll be sure and keep you posted. Oh, and Thank You to our backers who wrote personal notes to some key press and industry folks -- we were able to get about 55 hand-written notes to some of the most influential theater folk in the city. Thank you!

Okay, so we're minutes away from our first NYC performance and we're sold out! I don't have much time so I'm sending you a photo essay of our first couple of days here at 59E59 that should tell you what we've been up to and, in a small way, let you know that we wish you were here. This is, after all, your show too!

Our last show at 59E59 Theaters was this afternoon -- lots of tears, hugs and a standing ovation. A nice way to end our run at one of the best Off Broadway venues in New York City (Thank you for having us 59E59! We loved being at your theater!). So we loaded up the truck, said our goodbyes to our cast and crew (until December) and soon, we'll be Vermont-bound with our set, costumes and an old Texaco gas pump. Now it's time to turn our sights toward Kansas where we'll be taking our show in December (in our next post, we'll give you more details about our forthcoming performance). In the meantime, we're pretty exhausted here. We'll leave you with some pictures of our load-out and one last shot of us standing in front of 59E59 Theaters.  Oh, one more thought -- there wasn't a single show that YOU weren't present -- you were in the program, on our website, and on our mind every time The Bus took to the stage in NYC. We're not done yet -- we still have our backer rewards to get to you (I'm so sorry for the delay; producing our show has been a much bigger and time-consuming task than I had expected!) and we've got our show in Kansas to produce, too -- but we just cleared a big hurdle and now seems like a good time to say, 'We couldn't have done it without you! Thank you!' 

During the shows I stood in the back of the theater and watched as The Bus unfolded for some of the most attentive audiences we've ever played for. The cast felt it, too -- one of our actors, Bryan Fitzgerald, said that, 'Like no other time, he felt every eye focused on the show like a laser.' It was fascinating to listen to our audiences, too -- what they laughed at, when they were quiet, and when a few of them audibly gasped. Some jokes in the script that never got a response in New York, got hearty and sustained laughter from our generous folks in Kansas. At the end of every show our cast received standing ovations -- lots of tears, smiles and people saying how much they appreciated us bringing the show to their state. We were so moved. 

Nate Phelps, Steph Mott (KEC) and the cast doing a talk back following a performance at The Blue Planet Cafe.

Bryan Fitzgerald, Will Roland and Travis Mitchell during a talkback.

l. to r. Bryan Fitzgerald, Steph Mott (Kansas Equality), Nate Phelps, Jim Lantz, Shepherd Michael, Travis Mitchell, Will Roland, Julia Lawler, Bob Nuner, Kerry McGann and Josh Wright. (not pictured: our incredible director John Simpkins)

Loading the set into MCC Church, Topeka. / Prepping set and sound at MCC Church.

#long post ish #hey beautiful #will roland

[countrymusiclover]

28 - Normal Family Feel

Part 29

Texas Romance

Tags - @supernaturalgirl30 @bvbwestfall @bubble-blu @patriciaplictisita

"That was your dad wasn't it?" Shoving my chair back I collapsed into his waiting embrace letting his arms. "I don't know what I should do, Georgie!"

Someone gently moved my shoulder trying to wake me up but I grumbled too comfortable laying in the bed. Aurora was a nightly terror again and if I get out of the bed it means I have to start deciding if I can not follow my parents to mu father's new job. "Y/n, come on. I wanna show you somethin'." Georgie whispered still shaking my shoulder.

"Georgie..." I grumbled rolling onto my back holding a hand over my face. Squinting one eye open seeing him sitting at the foot of the bed in his meemaw's spare room that she gave me.

He takes my freehand in his giving me puppy dog eyes knowing I would cave everytime he did. "I'll take you out to get tator tots." Rolling over onto my side I crawled out of the bed throwing on a blue sweatshirt following him outside where he covered my eyes with one hand and his other was making sure I didn't fall. "Suprise!"

"You got another car. Didn't you learn with the van?" Blinking my eyes to adjust to the light I saw a car with a long backseat.

He pointed to the car holding his hands up in surrender. "I promise this is a rat free car, darlin'." Glancing over his shoulder my eyes kept searching just in case as he explained. "And these things are real safe too. My mom has one. When I was little and she hit an ice cream truck. I didn't even wake up."

Crossing my arms over my chest I tilted my head up smiling at my - well I'm not sure what I should call him anymore. "I can't believe you sold your Mustang for our babygirl." Leaning up on my toes I wrapped my arms around his neck kissing him. He puts one hand on my waist smiling into the kiss until I broke it looking at my feet.

"What's wrong?" He asked slightly already knowing the answer.

Throwing my head back I slumped my shoulders sighing heavily. "It's just...nevermind. You don't have to worry about me. Let's go get something to eat. I'll buy pizza for dinner."

Georgie got in the driver's seat and I got in the front so the drive was mostly silent. Looking out the window I rest my chin in the palm of my hand. I shouldn't let my father getting a new job weigh on me but it's not like I went off to college...I got pregnant before graduation. A few seconds later I felt a hand on my knee making me turn my head slightly in Georgie's direction. His eyes held concern knowing what was running through my mind. "I'm here for ya, you know that right. Whatever you decide. I'll be here."

"Thank you. I appreciate it." I smiled intertwined my hand with his before he turned his head forward pulling into the parking lot of a movie store unbuckiling his seatbelt turning to face me. "What's going on, Georgie?"

He rubbed the back of his neck clearly nervous as we entered the video store passing the shelves. Glancing around I heard the front door get closed and the sheriff exited the building smiling in our direction which was a little weird. He slowly opened the closed door then closed it behind us so when I turned around I gasped seeing a bunch of gambling machines in the whole back room. Almost all the machines have a person at them with the sound of coins flipping quickly through. "Woah I was not expecting this - do the cops know about this. Is it legal - Georgie you can't go to jail again."

"Before you freak out. No its not legal. But the police are okay with it." He holds his hands up in front of him in an attempt to defend himself before I freaked out.

"What is she doin' back here?" Connie walked up looking to her grandson then to me slightly concerned.

Glancing to Georgie he pointed his index finger at me still waiting on my reaction to the secret gambling room. "I thought she deserved to know where my money is comin' from. Her father has a new job and she's tryin' to decide and everythin'. I didn't like lying to her anymore..." He slumped his shoulders taking my hand in his feeling the wedding ring back on my hand trying to not get too excited over it. "Please don't be angry, Y/n."

"Georgie, I - this is insane...is this how you paid the hospital bills for my pregnancy. And before I got my job back with Dale." I paused knowing that I should be mad but if he was doing stuff to make money it proves that he meant he would be there for me like always. That he wasn't hooking up with other girls like I thought...that I simply overrated about my high school sweetheart. "I wanna stay...I...I messed up. I'm...I'm sorry." Flinging my arms around his neck he smiled gently wrapping his arms around my waist hugging me against his chest.

Picking up some pizza a few hours later Sheldon came out of his room rushing to the kitchen. His parents were out on their own things tonight leaving us to watch the kids. I actually got Missy to watch Aurora for a little bit. Entering Sheldon's room I saw Georgie sitting on his bed holding a bucket between his legs as it rained outside. His brother was concerned with a leak in the ceiling. "What's he got you doing in here exactly?"

"I'm babysittin' and this is the only way I can get my brother to eat. What's up, darlin'?" He replied before I plopped down to sit beside him on the bed.

Running a hand through my hair I lay my head lazily on his shoulder. He leans his head against mine. "I just wanted to apologize for how I reacted with Veronica. It was silly of me to think that you only said you loved me so I'd sleep with you. I want a - I'm just really sorry Georgie." He nodded leaning more into my touch enjoying the comfortable silence until we heard footsteps approach.

"Status report?" Sheldon appears in the doorway looking at the ceiling.

Georgie glanced down to the bucket he was holding then back to his brother. "Dry as a bone."

"So I have time for a second slice?" He asked before leaving the room.

I chuckled tilting my head down for a second smiling at his silliness. "Have three or four if you want kiddo. We'll stand watch. Go nuts."

"If Rora's weird. I'm ready." Georgie responded smiling playfully my way making me giggle at his words leaning into his side. He lifted his right hand up to my cheek leaning forward kissing me for the first time in a long time.

Melting into his touch I moved one of my hands into his hair twisting it in between my fingers deepening the kiss. He smiled into it cradling my face in his hand still holding onto the bucket with his other hand. "Speaking of our daughter I was thinking about something..." He broke the kiss until I pulled him back in for another one climbing into his lap where he struggled to not drop the bucket. "I - wanna - have - another - baby." I mumbled in between kisses.

Georgie suddenly broke it horror and shock written on his face where he dropped the bucket on the ground placing his other hand on my thigh stuttering out. "Y/n you - are you serious?"

To be continued....

Let me know you're thoughts or ideas in the comments

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#texas romance #georgie cooper x reader #georgie cooper #montana jordan #missy cooper #raegan revord #sheldon cooper #young sheldon memaw #meemaw #the big bang theory #young sheldon #teenage romance #high school best friend #george cooper #mary cooper #wattpad fanfiction #ask box is open for feedback #comments really appreciated

[taleighajuliedern]

Yellowstone Ryan X Reader (part 4)

The last few months have been amazing. Your dad has been getting along we with Ryan, work and been steady, Beth has been having breakfast dates with you once a month. You and Ryan have been dating for about 10 months now and he has been supportive of me and work since John put me and Casey in charge with the ranch while John has been resting his body after he had a nasty fall from his horse.

You, Ryan, Colby, Lloyd, Kasey, Dad, Tetter, Walker and Jimmy were at a horse auction. The plan was to get some more horses so we can rotate around and Tate wanted a new horse from Casey. We all walked in as a Ranch group and sat down where the horses were going to be sold. You sat in between Casey and Ryan, Casey was talking about what horses to go for while Ryan was holding your hand in his lap.

A few horses come and go, until you seen the perfect horse for yourself so you leaned into Kasey's ear, "mine," you said making him chuckle and then you out your hand up to start the auction, and Ryan got your drift so he was helping you. But before the horse was sold to you, you seen a skinny man looking your way and put his hand up to make the price higher on the horse. You tapped Kasey's leg and he looked up, "asshole 3 o'clock," you whisper and Kasey seen the skinny man who was out bidding you. You did the same thing to Ryan and he followed your lead. You texted Ryan and Kasey saying 10 grand and the both nodded their heads backing you up. You stood up yelling, "10 grand!" and then sat back down. You looked over to the skinny guy and he gave you a nasty look knowing you won the bet and you did.

After 4 hours, the ranch got 10 new horses. Jimmy went and got the truck to carry the horses, so the rest of you went and look at them. Teeter got us a beet each waiting for us, you smiled at her and raised your beer with her. You felt Ryan wrap his arms around you stomach, "hey baby, you like your new horse?" he asked me while kissing my cheek. You looked at the horse, she was dark brown with a white star pattern between her eyes, "she'll be a good horse, just have to put some time and effort into her," you said. Kasey came next to me and patted my shoulder, "breed her?" he asked. You looked over to him, "I get to keep her first foal," you said smiling. Kasey, Jimmy and Colby got the horses loaded, you told Jimmy to talk them back to the ranch and let them out on the field to get use to it and to come back and find us at the bar.

Use were all at the local bar, just starting to play a game of pool while the skinny guy from the auction came over, "nice horse," he said with a smirk. Ryan squeezed your hand but you put a hand on his chest and whispered in his ear, "brawl fight coming." you turned your attention the skinny guy who had about 7 friends. You smiled, "yeah, she's gonna be a beautiful horse after I break her in," you informed the man. The skinny man put a hand out, "Tony," he said. You smiled and shook his hand, "Y/N," you said very nicely. He smiled at you, "so, your gonna break her in?" he asked. You already knew where this was going but it's been a while since you were in a fight. You put your hands on your hips and looked down at the ground before looking back at this Toni guy, "yeah. Been doing it all my life really," you said. Tony looked back at his friends then to me, "I always thought women were meant to clean the house, cook meals, do the washing, look after the kids and keep the bed warm." You've never liked men who were sexist and rude. You looked at him, "and I always thought them men were meant to bring the money in to pay bills. Well for you, you must be the bitch in the relationship," you said making the grin off his face whipped off. You seen the fist coming but your dad always told you to never throw the first punch so you expected it. Once you felt his fist connect with your jaw, all the boys joined in. You got back up and smiled at Tony and charged at him and laid your fist into his jaw and ribs.

You felt someone rip you off Tony, "calm down baby, he's out cold," Ryan said making you stop. You looked around and seen all of Tony's boy's on the ground. Your dad came over with a smile on his face, "he got you good sweetheart. Ryan, take her back to the motel and clean her up. We're all staying across the road," Dad said while talking to Ryan. Ryan chucked you over his shoulder making everyone in the bar whistle out laughing, so you gave them the middle finger and your dad to yell out "protection," making you laugh hard.

We got to our room and Ryan thew you on the bed and crawled on top of you, "how's the face?" he asked while looking over the cut that was on your eyebrow. You slapped his hand away and kissed him with so much love. Use made out for a while and Ryan pulled back, "shower?" he asked. You looked at him, "carry me?" you asked and he didn't waste anytime taking your clothes off and putting you under the warm water and he followed soon after.

#yellowstone #rip wheeler #kacey dutton #beth dutton #john dutton #jimmy #teeter #yellowstone ranch

[unofficial-sean]

2008: Our Generation’s Trauma

The 2008 Financial Crisis--or the Great Recession--is, perhaps, the 9/11 of my generation (that being the awkward space between Millennials and GenZ). I was an infant when the WTC collapsed, and so that means little and less to me. All I saw was the aftermath; the brutality and injustice the U.S. inflicted on the world and its own people in response. I never knew the world before that. It was just how things were.

However, I was old enough to remember a pre-2008 world. My life was (autism withstanding) typical for a culturally Christian white household. We lived well, but not extravagantly. And then the house of cards collapsed and we lost so much. No single event has shaped the outcome of my life as such.

Now, we didn’t have it the worst. Our home in the country wasn’t financed by the dogshit mortgages that led to others’ evictions. The Crisis’ effect was secondary. My father worked as a CAD technician at the civil engineering firm ESM, working on housing and infrastructure projects. After the Crisis, ESM held on as long as it could, laying off people in a trickle until my father got the axe and the firm was no more. No one was working on housing projects, anymore.

My father had to take on odd jobs to keep us afloat, but the stress of the Crisis strained my parent’s marriage to the breaking point, and divorce followed. My parent’s issue with each other had been building before the Recession, but it all came to a head in 2010.

With little income, we slowly sold off things we didn’t strictly need. Our horses and trailer, our truck, and more. It broke my mother’s, sister’s, and my own heart to see our horses go. It wasn’t enough, though, and we ended up moving into a small duplex apartment in town.

If I was struggling in school before, it was nothing compared to my post-Crisis experience. I need not continue with more details, I believe I’ve made my case. Had the marriage held, had my father kept his job, had we kept our home and our horses and the rest, my life would be very, very different. For better or for worse.

I wanted to reflect on that. It shapes my outlook, now, and the things that are really important to me. I never buy things I wouldn’t outright own. No credit, no loans. Nothing I have can be taken from me the way our house was. I, to put it gently, loathe capitalism. I loathe the political system that enabled the Crisis to happen. I loathe the response to the Crisis. I find the truly rich disgusting and inhuman; worthy of death so that we may all live in peace. and-

Did you see what just happened? Right there: read the first paragraph, and now the one just above.

I hate capitalists after the Great Recession like (some) Americans hated Muslims after 9/11. Only, capitalists aren’t some foreign underclass we can bomb to hell. They are the ones who bomb others to hell. Despite how the pain and suffering discriminated against none, somehow my parents generation still clings to Regan and his ideals like he is god himself. The tragic comedy of that fact is not lost on me.

Maybe one day, when our parents and grandparents are dead, we can take hold and change our fucked up slice of earth for the better. Never forget 2008.

#journal #vent #reflection #the great recession #the 2008 financial crisis #anticapitalism #reganomics #neoliberalism #divorce

[nancypullen]

Whining

Brace yourself, I’m going to complain. Whyyyyy is it so hard for people to just show up on time and do their job correctly?

Seriously, that’s all I’m asking. I think I had sky high hopes that because we sold our house in Tennessee at a good price and we’d have wads of cash to spruce up this place, that it would be easy.  Before I continue this rant, please know that I am grateful to from the top of my head to the soles of my feet that these are the problems in my basket.  I know that compared to the burdens that some are shouldering, my frustrations (and that’s really all they are) don’t amount to much.  I think I’m finding out that I don’t go with the flow as easily as I used to, and that I have a huge need for nesting and normalcy.  I’m a homebody and these stinkin’ contractors are keeping me from making a home! Yesterday was floor installation day.  The guy who came weeks ago and did the measuring and worked up the estimate said it could be a two day job, but he thought they could get it done in a day.  I resigned myself to being trapped upstairs for a day knowing that my reward would be spiffy new floors.  Small price to pay. I was working when we had our floors done in Mt. Juliet - Mickey and I pulled up the carpeting, prepped the floors, and I trotted off to work the next morning.  When I came home I had new floors, presto change-o!  This time I was here for every whack of the hammer. Or whatever they use.  They didn’t show up until 10 o’clock. They set the smoke alarms off with their saw. They didn’t finish until NINE O’CLOCK last night.  Mickey had zipped out at noon and purchased lunch for the whole crew, but we didn’t buy them dinner.  We ended up having tuna sandwiches at 9:30 because we were starving.  We toasted our new floors with Diet Coke and went to bed. Today was furniture delivery day and dishwasher installation day.  The furniture guys showed up right on time and brought in the new sofa and loveseat. Hooray!  That has been the one and only easy part of this process - I fully expected to sit down and have the whole thing collapse.  The dishwasher was the last piece of the kitchen appliance swap and we were scheduled between noon and 3pm.  At 3:40 they called to say they’d be late.  No kidding.  That’s no big deal, I figured they ran into issues at another house and it’s not as if I had an urgent dishwashing need.  But as time passed I started to wonder if they were coming at all.  A truck pulled up just after 5 o’clock and they hustled in talking a mile a minute and measuring spaces. The first thing he said was that he had to take off my brand new quarter round to get the old dishwasher out - well, of course.  They pulled the old one out, loaded it on their truck, and brought the shiny new one in. Everything went smoothly and they let us know on the way out that they take trim off but they do not replace it.  They’re plumbers, not carpenters.  It’s a minor inconvenience, and I know it’s truly not their job, but it still made me want to flip them off.    The next project is painting.  He’s supposed to start on the 8th and he said the interior of the house plus trim will take 3 days.  Why do I have the feeling we’ll be sharing a Thanksgiving meal? I’m pinning all of my hopes on this guy being the one who restores my faith in America’s work ethic.  After this it’s kitchen counter tops and getting the cabinets painted.  This is not necessarily the order we’d planned to do things, but when someone finally returns your call and puts you on the schedule, you take it! Want to know the real reason I’m miffed?  I had plans for today.  I figured the furniture delivery would take about ten minutes (which it did) and the dishwasher installation maybe 45 minutes. - which was also about right. But that loooong stretch of waiting for the dishwasher guys screwed up my plan.  I needed to be in my kitchen. I was supposed to be making cupcakes for the Queen’s jubilee.  I mean, I have priorities.  I’ll make them tomorrow, but I was supposed to kick off Elizabeth’s platinum jubilee today.  Shout out to my fellow anglophile, Francie!  Anyway, I’ll bake and decorate tomorrow and then share the reasons for my choices.  Let’s just say that the Queen likes lemon. If you caught any of the celebrations so far, you’ll know that the star of the show has been wee Prince Louis.  While on the balcony of Buckingham Palace with his great-granny, Queen Elizabeth, he pulled faces, got quite dramatic during the flyover, and executed a little march during the playing of God Save the Queen.  Royal blood or not, kids are kids.

This is probably when HRH threatened to behead him, or maybe just a gentle reminder that the Tower of London has some empty cells. Doesn’t Elizabeth look great for 96?

I suppose if all you have to do is ring a bell to get anything you want, you might age more gracefully than the average gal.   Then again, she’s not immune to life’s struggles.  Prince Andrew, general creep and possible pedophile, was noticeably absent.  The official story is that he tested positive for COVID and will miss the festivities.  How convenient.  I’m fine with that.  Keep him out of sight, let Liz have her day.  Seventy years on the throne deserves revelry and merrymaking.  Just between you and me, you know  Charles is grateful that Andrew makes him look slightly less repulsive.  I really wish QE would pass over Charles and put Anne on the throne.  She’s been the hardest working royal for decades.  I loved this shot of Anne and William riding during the Trooping of the Colours.

Give her the crown. Well, I’ve gone from whining about home renovations to gossiping about England’s royal family.  That’s normal, right? I’m hoping with all my heart that things get closer to normal around here very soon.  We still have to replace carpet in one bedroom because apparently the former owners were raising farm animals in there or something.  Mickey has pulled up the carpet and done all of the prep work, now we get to wait for a date to lay the carpet.  What do you want to bet that the only date available for six months will be during the three days of painting?   Mercury will be out of retrograde later tonight. Everything will immediately go back to normal and life will be free and easy. I’m sure of it.  Universe, don’t prove me wrong.  This would probably be a good time to say that if I owe you an email or phone call, I’m so sorry.  I have been throwing myself a pity party and wouldn’t have been good company or a happy correspondent.  I promise to do better.  Believe me, I value my dear friends - I’d be bonkers if I couldn’t cling to the thought of perfectly well-adjusted people out there in the world caring about me.  Alright, I’m putting on my big girl panties and moving on.  Emails and calls coming soon. Time to switch on this brand new dishwasher and see if she works.  I’m off to take a bath and read a book (just started Pretty Little Wife by Darby Kane and it’s a page turner!). Back tomorrow with jubilee cupcakes and a better attitude. Stay safe, stay well, please keep masking! XOXO, Nancy