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chronicbeans · 3 months

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Platonic Alastor x Maladaptive Daydreamer Reader

Hehe not me self-projecting again! Anyways, these are kinda based on my own experiences, but I'm trying to make them more generalized.

TW: Maladaptive daydreaming, escapism, dissociation, mentions of depression and anxiety, brief mentions of compulsive behavior/OCD, invasion of privacy, manipulation, peer pressure, yandere-ish behavior (I believe he defaults to those behaviors, no matter the type of relationship), mention of cannibalism (this is Alastor we're talking about...), Alastor is a shitty toxic friend in this

• He's absolutely fascinated by the way your mind works. Even before he knows what is going on, or begins to get close to you, he can tell you are an interesting person. The way you look so distant, like your mind is checked out and flying to far off places without you, is something he hasn't seen before. He wants to pick and prod at your brain to see what's going on.

• He doesn't want to do so the easy way, though. No. Instead, he wants to drag out this process for as long as possible, and make sure you twist and squirm all the while. He loves to make people uncomfortable, after all! That's his specialty, in his opinion, besides his radio show.

• He'll start off with introductions, of course, which is probably when he first got interested in you. That dreamy look isn't so easy to see from a distance, after all. The second he looked into your eyes while shaking your hand, though, it became obvious. How hadn't he seen it before? If he saw this look when he first entered, he would've talked to you first out of the crew at the Hazbin Hotel. Well, besides Charlie... But, that's just because she owns the place.

•The uncomfortable prodding starts in an instant. One of his first questions after getting your name is not "What made you want to come to the hotel?" or "What can you provide to help the hotel?" It's more like "How did you die?", "What are your major vices?", and "What sin have you committed to be brought to Hell?" He wants to test the waters. See what he can get away with without completely scaring you off. If you run away and avoid him, it'd be harder to learn what he wants, and make you uncomfortable while doing so.

• Regardless of whether or not you answer, you are probably a little put off from him. Not enough to completely avoid him, since you can see how some of those questions might help him help the hotel, but enough to be uncomfortable... Which, in his opinion, is perfect!

• He's great at hiding, so if you start noticing him mentioning things you thought were private, you really shouldn't be surprised. He can, quite literally, hide in the shadows at times. He quickly takes notes of your little habits, including ones you might be embarrassed about.

• He may watch you pacing around your room, mumbling to yourself as if you are playing pretend all alone. Or, maybe, he's hiding over your shoulder while you're writing down some elaborate storyline. Perhaps he's watching you in plain sight, seeing you make a bunch of odd facial expressions at seemingly nothing. He may not know why you do this, but he wants to. He would've suspected some sort of substance use, considering it's Hell. Lots of people do so. However, he's never seen you near anything that would cause such behavior. So, that's off his list, for now.

• So, step 2 of his plan begins! As his good ol' pals Husk and Niffty to try befriending you! Or, at the very least, get information from you that you aren't comfortable telling him. Then, have them report back to him with their findings. Of course, Husk seems agitated by the request, but obliges. Niffty seems more than happy to do as he asks, though. A happy worker is a good worker, so he has more hope in Niffty getting the big story than Husk.

• Surprisingly, though, he's proven wrong. The most Niffty got was your fashion sense, favorite types of stories, and that you are very "quiet". Yes, the fashion and types of stories were new to him... But what he seems important, the reason you act so oddly, isn't there. Husk, however, was able to get a lot more out of you, somehow.

• Husk mentions you talking to him, one night, after he saw you skipping oddly down the hall and pass the bar where he was cleaning the glasses before closing it for the night. You seemed extremely embarrassed to have been seen, mentioning that you thought he was asleep already. He then just, politely asked a few questions...? And got answers? How?

• Alastor immediately demands answers, only for Husk to reply "I don't know how to describe it like they did! Most I understood is that they daydream too much. Seems like it's a constant thing going on. They like to pace and prance while doing so, sometimes, but don't like getting caught."

• Now it begins to make more sense... the writing, the talks about stories with Niffty, the prancing and pacing... and most importantly, that dreamy, distant look you have. He can even see why you'd make odd expressions. You're reacting to your own thoughts... He doesn't understand it. He's never heard of anything like this before, especially during his time as a human, but he can tell one thing for certain: You must be his friend, now. Whether you like it or not.

• You are so different from everyone else he's met, you see, and he loves things that go against the norm. Now, while you may or may not be considered normal or not too different by others, you're different and abnormal to him. You somehow succeed in both being polite, smart, and funny to mess around with, while also barely being able to pay attention to the world around you. He's always thought that those two things were mutually exclusive. How can you learn when you can't stop being in your own head? How can someone be polite and not listen? The funny part, though... He can kind of see that. He finds surprising you be sneaking up behind you and tapping your shoulder funny every now and again. Nevertheless, you are going to be his friend.

• Soon enough, you notice his behavior changing, a bit. Less following you around, less vaguely threatening words, and more... quiet. It's eerie, coming from him. However, you also notice him trying to talk to you about stories and books he's heard and read. Even things he's heard during his human life, such as Creole folktales and other stories he's heard in New Orleans, Louisiana back in the 1920s-1930s. It's a bit like a completely different side to him you never expected to see, and never really wanted to, but you aren't really complaining. It's better than him deciding to terrorize you for fun and him asking invasive questions...

• A little more time passes and he decides to ask about small habits, disguising them as him just now noticing those habits, when he's probably noticed them while spying on you months prior. Nothing too extreme. Mostly just your expressions, how it seems like your attention is somewhere else... Nothing like your pacing, prancing, or acting. He wants to establish that he knows about these tiny little things, and now that you're more comfortable with him, you're much more likely to answer. That way, once he moves onto the bigger, more personal questions, you'll already have been eased into feeling comfortable with it.

• Eventually, you get to the point where you feel comfortable calling him a friend. He's already considered you one since that conversation with Husk, but it's a start. Now, he's gotten the lovely privilege of being able to know more about what's going on in that lovely little brain of yours... well, "little" brain is definitely an understatement. From how you describe your imagination, he'd be led to believe your mind must be as vast as the Library of Alexandria.

• Vast worlds, complicated plotlines, complex characters... you talk of odd tales you've created, all in your brain. Ones you've had in your mind for years, some you came up with on a whim, and others, still, that are still being developed. Stories that have been being created over the span of real life years, ones you started then dropped... All of which are being held in your head, with only a miniscule fraction of it being written onto paper. He's truly impressed, genuinely respecting your odd talent, as he sees it. You've perfected the craft of creativity, while he's perfected the art of talking to an audience. Even better, is that he got to learn whether or not his theory of you taking inspiration from stories you've heard was right. Which explains his sudden mentions of stories he's heard in life.

• Now... if only you'd let him tell some of your stories on his radio show! If you wouldn't like that, then he'd probably ask you to write something for his show. That way, it isn't as personal to you, and you wouldn't even need to be credited if you're embarrassed by it! He could just say a random listener sent it in, and he thought it'd be great to read, to show his appreciation for his adoring fans. The world simply must hear the greatness of your mind, dear, and he is not going to stop annoying politely asking you to write something until you do.

• Another thing he might try is to see if he can figure out why you partake in this little habit of yours. He's never heard of it, though he has asked some sinners and demons if they have. Be it Charlie, Angel Dust, some of the other overlords, or a friend of his we haven't seen or heard of, before. More modern sinners keep mentioning a thing called Maladaptive Daydreaming, describing it as a symptom of other mental health diagnoses... but that's the problem. That fits you, you've mentioned that you know of that and it fits you... but that's also just a symptom. Well, a few argue that it may be its own thing, but it is not an official diagnosis yet. So, for now, he wants to figure out why you do it.

• Is it depression? Anxiety? Do you really want to escape from something, and you're doing so by hopping into that little dream land of yours? Is it some sort of compulsion? You seem to not really be able to control it that well, after all, and others have mentioned links to OCD, as well as other disorders that can cause compulsions. Is it sheer, absolute, chronic boredom? Speak to him, dear! What is it? Do you even know? If not, he'll assume it's the boredom option... for now.

• He's obsessed with you, really. You're his friend, and he's very obsessive over them, in his own way. He is as far away from normal when it comes to showing real affection for others, which wouldn't be bad, if it weren't for the fact that a main part of it is him being absolutely suffocating when he's around. That, and he can be terrifying... He's the Radio Demon, after all! It's just worse for you than his other friends, though, because you are different. Being different is a really important thing for him, really, alongside being polite, smart, and funny. Not required, unlike the last three traits, but it makes you more likely to be his friend. You hit the lottery by achieving being all four, but it must be the worst lottery prize in the world.

• He holds the thought that you should just be friends with him. Now, you don't have to be... but, he'd prefer it. If you really want outside friends, sure! You just can't be friends with his other friends. He claims they'd "taint" you with how violent they can be. Plus, since he's friends with other cannibals, some of which do serve sinner and demon meat to others without telling them, he genuinely does worry about your safety and wellbeing if you met those specific friends of his. For your friends, he wants to meet them. He needs to in order to deem them worthy of being your friend, and to make sure it's not someone he knows and is friends with. You deserve perfection, and who knows perfection better than Alastor, yes? After all, he can see that you're perfect. That is more than enough evidence, dear.

• You're one of the few people who he doesn't mind having your attention not on him. Part of your charm, in his opinion, is your lack of attention. All he asks is that you tell him about a story of yours. What is going on in your head that's so important? Oh, a great war between this and that? A psychological horror? Cities beneath the sea? Tell him about it. He finds it fun! Especially if he can see any possible inspiration from events or other stories. He likes to hear your voice almost as much as he likes to hear his own, which you'll realize is more of a compliment than it might sound like, once you truly get to know him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #maladaptive daydreaming #alastor x reader #platonic headcanons

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 10 days

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Shaking (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have an anxiety attack in a public setting, but luckily, the doctor is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 2450

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mild cursing, mostly just ANGST and then comforting FLUFF

A/N: Wanted to write Spence comforting the reader during a panic attack. Fanfiction is better than therapy, right? At least, it’s cheaper! Also not my GIF

——

“You don’t want to just order it online?” Spencer asked as you walked beside him down the sidewalk. His longer legs would typically mean that he’d be several steps ahead of you, but he always slowed his pace so you wouldn’t have to strain to keep up with him. He also walked on the outside of the path because, let’s face it, he was a gentleman.

You shook your head. “No, I want the whole experience,” you said excitedly as you walked, your face lighting up in anticipation. You were on your way towards a local bookstore, where the third book in your favorite series was being released today. The bookstore was going to be packed, but you were so excited to be one of the first ones in the door, to get your hands on a physical copy. “I don’t ever do things like this, but it’ll be something I think about every time I look at the book sitting on my shelf.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his hand, his thumb and forefinger in an O-shape as he spoke. “Ah, the age-old concept of symbolic treasures. One of the main reasons why souvenirs are such a prevalent part of going on vacation. Did you know the tradition dates back to Ancient Egypt?”

You shook your head as you continued to walk with him. Your boyfriend carried on without fault. “As far back as 2200 B.C, Egyptian Prince Harkhuf traveled to what is now known as Sudan and returned with all sorts of objects to present to his father, the pharaoh,” Spencer explained. His words spat out quickly, compulsively, as though they had to exit his encyclopedic brain. “He brought back items such as incense, ivory, even the skins of leopards to show off to his father.”

“I had no idea,” you told Spencer as you neared the bookstore, smiling sideways at him. You loved it when he spouted off facts like that, like he had to get the information out or else he’d explode. He had confessed to you more than once before that most people found it weird or off-putting or even annoying, but not you. Rather, you loved learning new things. Whatever information he had to share with you was always relevant in one way or another, and it was just one of the reasons why you loved spending time with him - he made you a more knowledgeable, well-rounded person.

Before either of you could say much else, you’d reached the back of the line of the bookstore. You checked the time on your phone. The store would open in about fifteen minutes. The line stretched down at least a full block, from what you could see. Lots of people dressed like characters from the books, shuffling their feet in excited anticipation.

There were at least a hundred people in the line, and after a minute or two, a couple dozen more had filed in behind where you stood. You pursed your lips for a moment, scanning the crowd until your eyes met Spencer’s.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, inclining his head to the side.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. “Just… lot of people.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, then reached down to take your hand. Your fingers twined with his and he squeezed his palm against yours. “I’m right here,” he reminded you. You didn’t love crowds. They always made you feel anxious, perhaps even a little claustrophobic. You and Spencer had gone to a fairly crowded French film festival a few months ago and there hadn’t been an organized line to enter; rather, it had been a cluster of people, all pressed together. And you had felt like you couldn’t breathe. Spencer’d had to pull you to a seat off to the side so you could catch your breath, and you’d missed getting a seat up front like you’d been hoping for.

Right now, you were okay, though. There were people in front of you and behind you, but they weren’t flush against you like they had been waiting for the film festival to open. And Spencer was holding your hand, and you were outside, with the cool, spring morning breeze hitting your face. It was fine. You were going to be fine. You inhaled deeply and exhaled, then nodded your head, feeling the anxiety dissipate. “I’m good,” you told Spencer, looking up at him.

Spencer nodded. He squeezed your hand once again before letting go, only so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and tug you so you leaned against his chest. He kissed the top of your hair. “It’s going to be just fine,” he promised you, and you just smiled to yourself.

About ten minutes later, the store opened. You only knew that because the line started moving, and more quickly than you thought. You squealed in delight and matched the pace of the people in front of you, Spencer by your side with an amused grin on his face. He loved books just as much as you did, if not more, but this outing was definitely just for you. He’d read the other preceding books in this series (literally just because you asked him to and it took him an hour, tops), but he wasn’t a total geek for it like you were.

You finally made it inside the bookstore, a small business, a local place. You’d been inside several times before, but you hadn’t realized just how small the building actually was until you stepped in now. It was two stories, but everyone was tightly packed, with the people and the bookshelves crowding around you as you made it fully inside the store. There was even a line to go up to the second floor, like a queue at an amusement park.

There was little to no breathing room. Everyone was talking as they waited their turn to grab a copy of the new book, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls and the ceiling and smack you right in the ear. The air felt thick despite the front door and handful of windows being opened, allowing the cool spring breeze to ruffle the pages of the paperbacks on display.

But it wasn’t refreshing. Rather, it was another stimulant that caused the neurons in your brain to fire even faster. You felt your palms get slick. You felt your heart start to pound, and your knees wobble as you shuffled forward in the line. What were you even waiting in line for? You momentarily forgot, blinking a few times before looking up at the man beside you. Spencer was engrossed in looking around the bookstore, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he seemed to find something amusing. But when his eyes came full circle back to you, they were immediately filled with concern. “Y/N?” He asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t even hear him. The sound of his voice just bounced off your brain, like you were trapped inside of cellophane. All you could think was trapped. I’m trapped. No way out. Stuck. Caged. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

You felt your breathing go heavy, and your eyes fill up with tears. Your cheeks were red, bright red, judging from how hot you suddenly felt. “Leave,” you managed to choke out, your voice coming out from your throat. It felt like your throat was lined with thorns, like the words you wanted to say kept getting caught.

Spencer nodded. “Leave? Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can leave,” Spencer grabbed your hand, tugging you along behind him as he murmured “excuse me, pardon me,” to the other patrons, to get through the crowd. Moving against the crowd was so much worse than standing still. All those eyes on you, seeing your red face and the anxious tears trickling down your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, freaking out like this is such a public space. Everyone thinks I’m a freak, you thought. Your anxiety became not about the crowd, but about your anxiety, about how you were being perceived. Your breathing picked up, quickened, and by the time Spencer led you out into the morning sun, you were fully hyperventilating.

The thoughts in your head were racing at the speed of light. You hated feeling nervous like this, but moreover, you hated that Spencer had to take care of you because of it. You felt like you had ruined the day because your head wasn’t on straight, because you couldn’t stand in a crowd of people and hear the cacophony of voices and tamp down your panic.

Spencer led you down the block, about twenty feet from the store, away from the crowd, and your breath was still coming out staccato, unstable as you looked down at your shaking hands. You were crying and hyperventilating and the whole world felt like it was spinning. Spencer kept his hold on your hand and stood in front of you, squeezing his palm against yours. His eyes, those light brown irises with little flecks of green, stared into yours. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, bending his knees so his face was level with yours. “Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head, your eyes clamping shut. You were so mad at yourself in that moment. You didn’t want to have Spencer take care of you, to have to drag you out of a bookstore because you were having a panic attack. “Baby, you’re trembling,” you heard Spencer’s voice laced with concern. “Look at me. We’ll get through this together.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and that’s when you realized your entire body was shaking. You looked into Spencer’s eyes and he released your hand so he could cup your face. His fingers anchored under your jaw, his thumbs rested on your cheeks, and his eyes were wide, full of worry, but his voice managed to stay soothing and calm. “Follow my breath, Y/N. Do what I’m doing, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four.”

He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you tried to follow his lead, but you just couldn’t control your lungs. “It’s okay,” he assured you as your brows furrowed, presenting frustration. “C’mon, try again.” He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you managed to match him this time. “Hold for four,” you held your breath while Spencer counted. “And out for four,” you exhaled deeply. “Good, okay, let’s do it again.”

Spencer guided your breath for a few minutes, until you finally felt like you could do it on your own. And when you finally felt yourself coming down from the rush of panic that had sent you into fight-or-flight, you wiped at your wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croaked, and Spencer just shook his head.

“No,” he insisted, taking your hand and placing it on his heart. You could feel it beating through his long-sleeved t-shirt. “No, you don’t have to be sorry.” You rubbed your hand against his chest, finding it comforting as you hung your head. “Baby, look at me,” he requested, and you met his eyes.

“Please don’t ever apologize for having an anxiety attack, okay? For one thing, it’s not your fault. You can’t control the chemicals and waves in your brain and how your body reacts to situations,” Spencer began, his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest. You nodded, using the heel of your free hand to wipe away your tears. The crying was over, you were fairly certain, but god, did this suck. “You also should never feel ashamed for having a panic attack, Y/N. It happened, and we’re working through it. It’s a lot like boiling a pot of water, isn’t it?”

You let out a garbled sounding laugh and your brows furrowed. “How so?” You stammered out.

“Well, you set the pot of water on the stove, right?” Spencer began, and you nodded. “And then when it starts to bubble, that’s your anxiety. Some sort of external stimulant - the stove, or, in your case, the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd - is causing the water to bubble. And when the external stimulant increases in intensity, so too does your anxiety. And sometimes, yeah, the pot boils over.” Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “But then you just turn the stove off, grab a dishtowel, and clean up the mess. Problem solved.”

You cracked a half-hearted smile. “So in this metaphor, you’re a dishtowel?” You asked, curling your fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

“Technically, I think it’s a simile, but yes,” Spencer grinned as he looked in your eyes.

“But the book,” you sighed, looking back at the bookstore, which was still filtering people in and out slowly. The patrons leaving the store clutched their new copies of the book in their hands, grinning and taking pictures with their phones, laughing with their friends excitedly.

“Do you want to get back in line and try again?” Spencer asked, and you bit your cheek pensively.

“I don’t think so,” you said softly, defeatedly.

“That’s okay,” Spencer said. You loved that he wasn’t coddling you, he was just feeling it out, seeing what you were up for. “Do you want to get brunch somewhere and come back? Maybe the line will have died down by then?”

You nodded, your lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah,” you agreed. You realized your hand was still over his heart, rubbing at his chest. Your movement halted and you retracted your hand, but before your arm could fall completely at your side, Spencer scooped your hand up and kissed the back of your palm. “What if we come back and they’ve sold out of the book, though?” You asked as Spencer walked with you in the direction of one of your favorite brunch places, just a short walk from the bookstore.

“There are twenty-two independent bookstores in the D.C. metropolitan area alone,” Spencer rattled off. “If this one doesn’t have it, we’ll drive around until we find one that does.”

“What article did you read that told you how many bookstores were in D.C?” You asked. You often liked to challenge him by asking him to cite his sources.

“No article. I did a search on Google Maps last night,” Spencer explained.

“What, because you knew I’d freak out when we walked into this one?” You asked him.

Spencer shook his head. “No, just wanted to have a contingency plan in case our first stop sold out before we got there.”

“Always thinking ahead, huh, Boy Wonder?”

“Damn straight.” A smirk formed across Spencer’s lips.

You shook your head. “You’re the best dishtowel a girl could ask for.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfics #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff

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tacroyy · 9 months

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losing my shit about the two times vimes gets slapped by a woman in the guards books (night watch and snuff; spoilers for both below). terry pratchett is completely goddamn brilliant.

both times, it's near enough to the beginning of the plot that vimes is partially convinced he doesn't know what's going on and is still information gathering (so, working a little on autopilot, although thoughts are starting to coalesce). the women he encounters show up after a watershed moment—major transformative plot points on both occasions—and both help him and help move the narrative along with the information they provide. and this is my favorite detail—he's tired both times, too, and just needs to think, because of the amount of new information he's processing.

from night watch:

"I think perhaps I lost my memory when I was attacked," he said. That sounded good, he thought. What he really needed now was somewhere quiet, to think.

"Really? Perhaps I'm the Queen of Hersheba," said Rosie [Palm]. "Just remember, kind sir. I'm not doing this because I'm interested in you, although I'd admit to a macabre fascination about how long you're going to survive. If it hadn't been a cold wet night I'd have left you in the road. I'm a working girl, and I don't need trouble. But you look like a man who can lay his hands on a few dollars, and there will be a bill."

"I'll leave the money on the dressing table," said Vimes.

The slap in the face knocked him against the wall. /end quote

and from snuff:

She [Felicity Beedle] turned to Vimes. "It would seem, commander, that providence has brought you here in time to solve the murder of the goblin girl, who was an excellent pupil. I came up here as soon as I heard, but the goblins are used to undeserved and casual death. I"ll walk with you to the entrance, and then I've got a class to teach."

Vimes tugged at Feeny to make him keep up as they followed Miss Beedle and her charge toward the surface and blessed fresh air. He wondered what had become of the corpse. What did they do with their dead? Bury them, eat them, throw them on the midden? Or was he just not thinking right, a thought which itself had been knocking at his brain for some time. Without thinking, he said, "What else do you teach them, Miss Beedle? To be better citizens?"

The slap caught him on the chin, probably because even in her anger Miss Beedle realized that he still had his steel helmet on. /end quote

vimes makes mistakes. he makes mistakes all the time, and he knows this, and pays attention to them. vimes spends a lot of time thinking about thinking (engaging in productive, internally motivated metacognition well within his zone of proximal development, my master's in teaching insists i say). he thinks about his thinking, and he thinks about other people's thinking through the lens of his own.

in both instances, vimes is coming to realizations about the true nature of things.

in night watch, this would initially seem to be more surface than deep: he's getting to physical grips with exactly when and where (and who) in the past he is; he's learning the ground, mapping, figuring things out—but vimes is also trying to settle himself back in to what he knows, and what society is in these different times, to see if that fits. plotwise, in vimes's present, the seamstresses have a guild, rights, safety, standards, rules, regulations, and even societal respect—although certainly not close to what they deserve, it's much more than what they had before vetinari made their guild a reality. but in the past, where vimes is now, the seamstresses don't have this level of security, and are subject to violence (although it is shown to be societal and legal violence [being arrested for working during their profession's peak, etc] rather than interpersonal or sexual violence [the agony aunts exist and, it is clearly stated, dispense the same justice that they do in the future, specifically to individual clients rather than to larger institutional structures]).

so, when vimes puts down rosie by making a disparaging joke about her profession—oh, you're actually not important to me or to men or to society at all; your labor is not to be respected; i got what i needed from you and will of course pay you, but in the most insulting way possible—he's not only communicating what society thinks, but a moral issue of the novel as well. night watch, after all, is about revolution: who gets to be in power, and who gets to control who gets to be in power? it's frankly revolutionary for pratchett, a mainstream english author, to treat sex workers and sex work as positively as he does (of course, his depictions are not without flaws). he makes it clear that, after all, shouldn't we view sex work as physical labor? isn't it true that anyone who is employed is engaging in physical labor? how is a seamstress really different from a "seamstress"? (it's the power dynamics and misogyny standard to western/european/american/christian society: women and sex must be controlled by the patriarchial majority, kept small and afraid and in chains.) pratchett legitimizes the seamstresses in vimes's present. in vetinari's ankh-morpork, the seamstresses have just as much power as the merchants, the armorers, the assassins—and vimes knows this, but he did grow up in the past he's in now.

in snuff, vimes's approaching anagnorisis is more obviously manifested. brilliantly, pratchett begins vimes's encounter with the goblins by talking about vimes's childhood teacher, mistress slightly, who "taught [him] how not to be afraid" and made him blackboard monitor, "the first time anyone had entrusted him with anything;" vimes thinks he'll put a bag of peppermints on her grave if he gets out of this alive. all positive, and in fact clearly transformative, praise from our hero. but vimes is in a goblin cave, and pratchett has brought up mistress slightly because vimes is remembering his first (educational, not physical) encounter with goblins. this paragraph is worth quoting in full:

"[Mistress Slightly] had one book in her tiny sitting room, and the first time she had given it to young Sam Vimes to read he had got as far as page seven when he froze. The page showed a goblin: the jolly goblin, according to the text. Was it laughing, was it scowling, was it hungry, was it about to bite your head off? Young Sam Vimes hadn't waited to find out and had spent the rest of the morning under a chair. These days he excused himself by remembering that most of the other kids felt the same way. When it came to the innocence of childhood, adults often got it wrong. In any case, she had sat him on her always slightly damp knee after class and made him really look at the goblin. It was made of lots of dots! Tiny dots, if you looked closely. The closer you looked at the goblin the more it wasn't there. Stare it down and it lost all its power to frighten. 'I hear that they are wretched, badly made mortals,' the dame had said sadly. 'Half-finished folk, or so I hear. It's only a blessing this one had something to be jolly about.'"

a near-perfect depiction, unfortunately, of the educational experience. encounter something that scares you and makes you uncomfortable, examine it with the help of a pedagogist, examine it on your own, take it apart so that you are not afraid anymore, and instead understand what it is and how it is made: that's the experience from the first word of the quote all the way until "Stare it down and lost all its power to frighten." and then, a heel-turn: your teacher shows that they completely misunderstood the lesson they were teaching—and that you, the child, understood both parts of the lesson perfectly: you absorbed the critical thinking skills and that this existing societal prejudice is, in fact, totally correct and should not be examined using the skills you just learned.

thus, pratchett has vimes, our hero, our moral center, spout the violent, ingrained, dehumanizing, incitement-to-genocide nonsense of the society in which he has been formed. vimes does this tiredly, without thinking, without making the connection between how things are and how they ought to be, missing the direct relationship of that required moral reevaluation to the case and situation at hand. and pratchett throws that directly back in vimes's face, physically. both times, pratchett says: even if you're tired, even if there's shit going down, even if your worldview is being turned upside down, even if you're in the dead middle of processing everything you've so recently learned, you cannot make the mistake of dehumanization/depersonalization. and you, of all people, have to know that, vimes. not one drop of alcohol passes your lips, not one minute after six goes by without you reading to your son, not one arrestee is subjected to even small or casual police brutality. and not one person—seamstress or goblin—is to be insulted and discriminated against and excluded from deserving to live. to do so, to make that mistake even once, is to face the immediate physical consequences of it from someone deeply and fundamentally in the know. you need the sense smacked into you.

from night watch:

"Consider that a sign of my complete lack of a sense of humor, will you?" said Rosie, shaking some life back into her hand.

"I'm... sorry," said Vimes. "I didn't mean to... I mean... look, thak you for everything. I mean it. But this is not being a good night."

"Yes, I can see that."

"It's worse than you think. Believe me."

"We all have our troubles. Believe me," said Rosie. /end quote.

from snuff:

It was a corker, nonetheless, and out of the corner of his stinging gaze he saw Feeny take a step back. At least the boy had some sense.

"You are the gods' own fool, Commander Vimes! No, I'm not teaching them to be fake humans, I'm teaching them how to be goblins, clever goblins! Do you know that they have only five names for colors? Even trolls have around sixty, and a lot more than that if they find a paint salesman! Does this mean goblins are stupid? No, they have a vast number of names for things that even poets haven't come up with, for things like the colors shift and change, the melting of one hue into another. They have single words for the most complicated of feelings; I know about two hundred of them, I think, and I'm sure there are a lot more! What you may think are grunts and growls and snarls are in fact carrying vast amounts of information! They're like an iceberg, commander: most of them is where you can't see or understand, and I'm teaching Tears of the Mushroom and some of her friends so that they may be able to speak to people like you, who think they are dumb. And do you know what, commander? There isn't much time! They're being slaughtered! It's not called that, of course, but slaughter is how it ends, because they're just dumb nuisances, you see. Why don't you ask Mr. Upshot what happened to the rest of the goblins three years ago, Commander Vimes?"

And with that, Miss Beedle turned on her heel and disappeared down into the darkness of the cave with Tears of the Mushroom bobbing along behind her, leaving Vimes to walk the last few yards out into the glorious light. /end quote.

#sam vimes #terry pratchett #original flavor #dw tag

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imagine-silk · 4 months

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Hello! May I request fallout 4 companions (Nick especially) with Sole who shares the bare minimum of information about themselves? Not because Sole doesn’t trust them, they really enjoy theirs companions company. Perhaps they busy themselves so they don’t have to think about all the little and big things they miss. (I bet Codsworth would find pristine things that Sole would miss (like a favorite movie, vinyl, or comic?))

Sorry if its not something you’re interested in doing right now. The ask kinda came out as a ramble, I’m lacking sleep haha. Thanks again for considering my request!

》Honestly one of my favorite kinds of characters.

【Cait】 She doesn't appreciate it. Her contract was traded to some random weirdo who barely says anything. It took three days before the topic of your name came up. And two weeks to know what you were looking for, who. But in return you don't ask what she does on her own time or what she's done. It feels like you don't mind rather than you don't care and that makes her feel seen. It stays between you unsaid in her eyes.

♡If romanced she doesn't push for any information. You'll tell her if it's important. People think it's weird the two of you to not share about yourselves like normal people but you're happy, that's all that matters.

【Codsworth】 It's just like it was before. He, unlike the others, already knows you. He knows you very well. Not only did you do an intake for daily preferences but he also served you for a few years. While you're out and about you'll do something or say something that sounds like no information to others or out of context and he'll answer, "Just as I was thinking as well." While you camp with some of the other companions he does chores the way you like without needing to ask, making comment on recent events, which makes them jealous for sure. He digs up things from the house he preserved or found and fixes them up brand new before presenting it to you. Songs you liked or wanted to hear. Movies and shows and comics. Clothes pressed for you and the furniture is redone the way it used to be. He knows you and wants to keep it that way.

【Curie】 Low-key doesn't care. She has one thing on her mind and that's her own goal to better medicine. Finding things to do that is all she needs of you. When she goes to be a synth her feelings overwhelm her and you guide her through that. She's never ever asked about you. She'll tell you about what she's feeling but never thinks to ask what you feel. In her defense, is doesn't understand the nuance of social interactions. And to her credit, it works for the both of you.

♡If she's romanced she realizes she wants to know what you feel and if it's the same as her. She's mostly interested in what you feel now rather than what your opinion is in the past or isn't currently relevant.

【Danse】 Right away he doesn't care for it. A mercenary who talks very little can be dangerous. But you followed orders well and are a damn good shot. The way he asks is more like demanding. It was all for a vetting process but still rude. After the intake he didn't care about your lack of openness. Didn't matter to him personally. After BB he suddenly regrets not knowing you. He was so rude and dismissed you as another faceless soldier and you saved him, from the Brotherhood and himself. Now he wants to know you.

♡If romanced he makes effort to know you, like really know you. For a long time he refused individuality so his own sense of self is not great. But you know yourself and make no attempt to hide it. You are so sure of yourself you don't need to explain. That's one of the things he loves about you.

【Deacon】 He thinks you're like him, that you want to hide in plain sight. As much as he gives that to you he's nosy as fuck and takes every chance to learn about you, mostly from afar. It doesn't take any time at all for him to realize you'll just tell him. Most of them are one word answers. It takes him even less time after that to realize you'll comment on things from before the war especially.

♡If romanced he goes out of his way to show you stuff. Old posters and toys. If you follow my headcanon that he's pre-war, he makes old references and generally adds comments on things to bait your answers.

【Hancock】 He thinks it's pretty cool. "Oh, tall, dark, and handsome/beautiful." He does play twenty questions with you 24/7 and is very happy with your half-answers because an answer is still an answer. Plus he knows at least two other people like you. He is the one who figures out that you just don't have the time or think about talking about yourself rather than purposely keeping secrets the fastest. He knows people so he knows better.

♡If romanced he plays with it. You want a kiss? Tell him what's your favorite color. He'll get on his knees if you tell him what you like about your new home. But honestly he'll do it anyways. All he needs to know is that you want him like he wants you.

【MacCready】 He was more concerned about you putting a bullet in his head while his back was turned. Everyone in the Commonwealth was looking out for number one. So imagine his surprise when you were looking out for your number one and it wasn't you. Not only were you looking for your son but you stopped to help every person who asked for help. Your actions spoke to him in a way your words, he figured, couldn't. You didn't need to help him but you did. You didn't take the caps back. And you killed the gunners the second they turned their guns on him even when they said their beef wasn't with you. It was what you did, not what you told him.

♡If romanced he will ask things. Basic ones are like, "How was your day?" Normal questions that are the peak of domestic life. Then the more personal things. Some sound silly, "What's your favorite color?" But most build off of a quick thing you said in passing, "Wait, you've been to California? What was it like?" He trusts you'll tell him the truth.

【Nick】 As a private detective this simply won't do. He gets it at first, you just need him to find your son, it's business. However, you want him to stay with you after that. It confuses him because you made no indication you like him in the slightest way. He's the second fastest to realize you're not keeping to yourself on purpose. As one of the only ones who are pre-war he's able to get things the others can't. He'll talk about things and give his options and bait you into answering it. That was a common way to get people to talk back then when you were trying to be polite and keep up the conversation, even if the conversation stays a bit thin.

♡If he's romanced he makes fun of the fact you forget to say things about yourself. Don't get it wrong, he makes it clear you don't need to share. He's just poking fun.

【Piper】 This simply won't do. She asks as many question as they come up but she gets depressing short answers. You either give one word answers or say you're not really in the mood, on some occasions you admit you don't know, you never thought about it. It takes a long time for her to stop and that's only because the questions start getting old. And you still feel like a mystery even though you've told her everything.

♡If she's romanced she realizes how much you've told her and pushes it. What is your type? How do your lips feel? Why do you look so good? It becomes playful and light, never serious.

【Preston】 In the beginning he didn't realize he didn't know much about you. He took your help selfishly to get him and his people back on stable ground but you told him you were happy to help. So he takes time to learn about you and give you everything he could possibly help you with. In hopes you would share by yourself he gives things to you without any prompt. It doesn't really work most of the time.

♡If romanced he asks things with hearts in his eyes. He is so lovesick he takes all of your half-answers and files it away in his mind. It hardly matters at that point.

【X6】 It wasn't his mission so he didn't care. You owed him no explanation or justification. Doesn't mean he doesn't question you. He asks why you helped someone, why you stopped for a distraction. And of course you give short answers like, "They needed help." or "I wanted to." Later, after the Institute is gone, he sees how you carry yourself and tries to copy it. Obviously he can't so you help him too. You showed him he can figure himself out by himself and he didn't need you. So he held the same opinion; he doesn't need to know you like that.

♡If romanced he's still comfortable with you keeping things to yourself. It's only after months of being together do you realize he's never asked you a personal question, that you've never shared anything that personal. When you bring that to him he tells you that hardly matters. But seeing you make the effort after that gives him a feeling he can't describe. It's a good feeling he thinks.

#ask and you shall receive #fallout 4 #fallout imagines #fallout x reader #companions react #gender neutral reader #cait #curie #codsworth #danse #deacon fo4 #hancock #maccready #nick valentine #piper wright #preston garvey #x6 88

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thottyimagines · 3 months

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Still thinking about Naruto in the year of our lord 2024 so I was wondering what your take would be on a Sannin swap, meaning team seven has different mentally unstable mentors from canon so they can be traumatized/educated in new and exciting ways <3

I've written a few about the potential dynamics between Naruto/Orochimaru, Sasuke/Tsunade, and Sakura/Jiraiya, but let me tell you about the different iteration that really and truly is my favorite:

Sakura/Orochimaru

Mad scientist, came-from-nothing ninja with insane chakra control reporting for duty.

Orochimaru takes one look at this pink-haired freak with a puddle of chakra who thinks she can stand side-by-side with the kyuubi and the last of one of the great dojutsu and says, would you like to live deliciously?

And Sakura says, of course I would.

It is not enough for her to succeed, others must fail. And Orochimaru loves and appreciates this about her.

Sakura runs away from Konoha with the promise of having a mentor who will teach her, who will focus on her, who will believe that she's more than her pitiful background and more than her overwhelming teammates.

She is, at first, foisted onto Kabuto. She frightens Kabuto.

When she gets good enough to replace Kabuto, which happens in a very alarming two years (max), Kabuto suddenly gets to live with the ever-present threat of becoming an experiment.

Orochimaru adores her and encourages her to steal any and all clan techniques and kekkei genkai that she can. Why should she be barred from knowledge if she yearns for it?

Sakura is the most learned woman in the elemental nations. She has figured out Orochimaru's Body Problem. She's replicated the Strength of a Hundred seal Tsunade uses. They are a plague unto Konohagakure.

She's gene splicing like nobody's business.

The only people who care that Sakura up and left are Naruto, Kakashi, a bit of Sasuke, and Ino. Except for...well, no one has that manic desire to bring her back, the way Naruto did when Sasuke went missing nin. They kind of view her as a failed experiment, though Ino misses her and thinks of her a lot.

Sasuke/Jiraiya

Such a miserable duo, but they kind of like it.

Jiraiya is strong enough to keep Sasuke safe, and he keeps the kid out of Konoha, which he really needed.

Sasuke takes to everything quickly and antagonistically. Jiraiya hates having such a talented student - he is, perhaps, even more talented than Minato - who is so desperately antisocial.

You know that one post that's like, someone who's objectively attractive but has negative rizz? That's Sasuke, and Jiraiya despairs on the regular, because this student of his should, in theory, take over this position as horny spy master with the way he effortlessly draws in beautiful women who can act as informants. Sadly, due to his personality, no one would ever believe that Sasuke is just charming these (knowledgable) women into bed with him.

Sasuke takes to sealing, and Jiraiya is petrified that he's going to come up with something to, like, replenish his clan at an alarming rate.

Sasuke gets rid of his brother with some sort of homemade seal that traps him in a Matryoshka doll or something. He didn't technically commit fratricide, but Itachi is suffering in that thing.

He comes back to the village looking way better than he did when he left. Jiraiya takes that as his main point of pride.

Naruto/Tsunade

Naruto, should he learn chakra control, is the ideal healer in that he has more chakra than should fit in a human body, even an Uzumaki.

It's the chakra control that is Tsunade's true challenge in teaching. And, good god, is it a challenge. Sasuke is already murdering his brother by the time Naruto can reliably aid in a minor surgery.

But once he finally learns it, Naruto is improving in leaps and bounds, as is his way.

He completes a Strength of a Hundred seal six months after he finally learns chakra control. Sakura has had hers for two years, and he does not know or care.

Naruto is saving people at unprecedented rates. Honestly, Tsunade struggles to justify making him a combat medic, because he's doing so much good in the hospital just staying at the village.

Naruto is Naruto, though, so Tsunade teaches him to brawl using her style.

He winds up on the most dangerous missions, due to the fact that he has a natural healing ability with his Kyuubi, and is now the most talented healer Konoha has (who insists on getting out there).

Honestly, I could see him winding up in ANBU, given those skills and traits.

His true hardship, after mastering chakra control, is realizing that his talk-no-jutsu isn't going to work all the time and that he can't derail missions to attempt it.

Naruto is a better hokage for it, in the end.

#naruto #Naruto imagines #Naruto headcanons #sannin swap #sakura #orochimaru #sasuke #jiraiya #Naruto uzumaki #tsunade #sage swap

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fatuismooches · 8 months

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Soft fragile reader + Dottore thoughts are the only thing that occupies my brain sometimes. Currently, I'm brainrotting over Dottore introducing you to dozens of modern things. We've talked about the Kamera but that's only one thing... mechanics! I don't know how much Teyvat has changed over literally hundreds of years but I assume it has to be a lot! And fragile reader would be disappointed they missed out on so many years worth of evolution from their coma... and also be very lost on how to navigate the world whenever they would be allowed to leave the lab. Like, everything is different. Your clothes from that era aren't fashionable anymore, reader (sorry ily.) Therefore the clones literally buy you a bunch of different things and you're just like... 😨 It's like a mini fashion show as these mass murderers are arguing over which color compliments you the best... (Zandik gives you a little spin and twirl as he compliments your style) Like... i know it sounds very simple but i like soft domestic Dottore + reader things 😔 Reader would definitely tailor their outfit similarly to their husband's to feel closer to him after so many years apart.

Ei was so happy by something like Dango Milk, I imagine fragile reader would be jumping for joy at the most simplest of things. You would overhear the Fatui soldiers/agents talking about things you've never ever heard about and then ask them for information, to which they obviously give you in the most respectful, monotone voice because of your husband's authority... but they're kind of confused by your practically sparkling expression. Every time you learn something new you immediately run to Zandik or a clone and start asking them for all the details! And I like to imagine you sitting on Zandik's lap as you try new delicious foods from the modern era... he really doesn't care much for food but how can he decline when you're feeding him a bite of everything? I bet reader would go bonkers if they found out that perhaps their favorite candy still exists, somehow even having new flavors! Or if their favorite book series survived, and then they'd be able to compare how writing styles and genres have changed... you rant to Zandik about them of course.

There are probably dozens of things that have changed over time, but I can't exactly think of any more that would be fluffy and cute right now. Will write more brainrot if I do 😭 Basically crazy mad scientist still making time for his darling fragile lover >> He grows to expect you sitting on his lap going on about a new thing you discovered existed now and then falling asleep frequently now.

#smooches talks #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #zzz... this man will get me through this semester #i must dottore-ify my phone #what other modern things do u think dot would introduce u to??

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riddle-me-ri · 6 months

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a/n: Happy Halloween friendos!! I wasn't sure I was going to be able to whip this up in time cause I had work and to get ready for my sister's Halloween party BUT I was able to do a small little something something for y'all!! Sorry if this has way more mistakes than usual and if it seems rushed…it’s because it is lmao I hope you guys enjoy it!! Have fun, watch some spooky movies, gotcha some goodies just please stay safe 💚🧡

Word Count: 933

Content Warning: subtle mentions of masturbation, voyeurism, and mentions of stalking.

General Scarecrow x Reader - Watching You

You smiled contently at the small group of children as you waved them good-bye off your doorstep.

You stretched your limbs, your sweater's neckline sliding off, exposing your shoulder a little. You took a glance at your phone and realized it was probably time to call it a night.

You closed the door and locked it and began your nightly routine.

Meanwhile your mind drifted off to your colleague Jonathan. You couldn't help but ponder what he was up to, after all this was his holiday.

You hoped he liked the card you slipped into his mailbox in the university's office.

It was cheesy and dumb, but you saw the scarecrow on the front and couldn't resist…

~~~

Jonathan knew he shouldn't be here…he should leave you be, you've been nothing but kind to him and what does he give you in return?

Countless nights watching you live your life without a care in the world outside your window…

He couldn't help it. He adored you.

Occasional small talk in the break room or catching up in the halls just wasn't enough.

Jonathan wasn't nearly confident enough to genuinely approach you for an encounter outside the university…he felt this was the only option he had to learn more about you.

Almost like you were one of his experiments…but instead of observing and taking note of your reactions to his fear toxin and what your greatest fears…he wanted to know the opposite.

He wanted to know what pleased you.

He wanted to know what your favorite meals were, what you did on a lazy afternoon, what books you read…

When you take baths or showers…when you stay up a little later than usual to sexually gratify yourself.

Then for him to notice how relaxed you are the next day at work, likely as a result of your nightly activity.

Here he thought you were so pure and innocent…he wonders if you think the same of him despite him actively stalking you.

Jonathan shook his head…he shouldn't be here. He shouldn't know these things, but he can't help but feel his curiosity being satiated every night learning even the tiniest new information about you.

Like tonight, he took note of how you celebrated the holiday of Halloween, tonight anyway. He wondered if you'd go to a party if you were invited and if the night wasn't a work night.

For tonight however he noticed that you stayed up longer than you normally did and you enjoyed a random horror movie marathon on the TV.

The hair on the back of Jonathan's neck stood at attention as he noticed you leisurely entered your bedroom.

He gasped softly.

You began lazily removing your clothes, almost as if you were teasing him with how slowly you revealed expanses of your skin.

Jonathan gripped the windowsill, longing for it to be your skin instead.

He bit his lip, he really shouldn't be here…

You also really shouldn't undress with your curtains cracked slightly. He’d be enraged if anyone else decided to take advantage of seeing you in this state.

However the moment of seeing your skin on display was cut short as you grabbed a large oversized shirt and slipped it on over your form.

Perhaps tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights.

He noticed you grabbed your phone as you plopped down onto your bed. You began tapping away on the screen.

Jonathan almost jumped out of his skin when he felt his phone slightly vibrate–he thought he forgot it at home like he was supposed to.

It was a text from you;

“Happy Halloween, Jonathan! I hope you liked the card…I know it was cheesy but…it made me think of you ^-^ I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night and I hope you had atleast some fun tonight! ”

Ah, yes…the card. For a second he almost had a heart attack thinking you knew of his…other alias, but he knew that wasn’t possible and that you were merely trying to comfort him into the moniker that was given to him from other staff and students.

Jonathan took a peek at the time. It was ten minutes passed ten p.m. It wouldn’t be out of the question if he didn’t respond right away. He never truly was apt in the etiquette of text messaging, albeit he tried. It was easier to approach than face to face communication after all.

He quickly shoved the phone back inside and glanced back through the window. He was almost ready to depart, seeing as you were likely heading to bed.

Until he saw you swiftly remove the blanket from on top of your form. You slowly pulled back the edge of your over-sized tee.

Jonathan found himself clenching the windowsill again an almost pathetic, needy whimper seeped from between his lips as he tried to get closer to you. Sometimes he could swear that he can hear the soft pants and moans you drive yourself to make.

It wasn’t long until he felt a suffocating pressure in his crotch. His cock aching for friction and release…

He looked around to make sure he was properly secluded from the remaining teens that were still running around and the families slowly walking home.

It was a huge risk…

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t do this.

All those other instances…he waiting until he got home or he came undone without even unzipping his pants.

There was no telling when he’d ever share a moment like this with you again…

He can already see it now. Tomorrow morning you both would be sleepy, but somewhat more at ease and blissful. You wouldn’t have the faintest idea why he was that way, but he would know for the both of you.

Jonathan couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of your message as he gripped the base of his cock.

“I hope you had atleast some fun tonight!”

He would have some fun tonight, indeed.

#ri writes #the scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #general scarecrow x reader #general jonathan crane x reader #happy halloween buds!

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istoleyoursk1n · 4 months

Note

How would the origin character (plus halsin too ig he can come to) react to a transmasc/transman tav (like tav romancing them and then like coming out to them if that makes sense)

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

Origin + Halsin reacting to a transmasc Tav coming out

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Oh darling, was that it? Don't you know I adore you regardless? Were you seriously worried that I’d dismiss you just like that? Oh my love, not in a thousand centuries.”

(Assuming he hasn't seen you completely bare)

Surprised but unbothered. You’re still you correct? Then what's the problem? This new revelation doesn't change how he views you in the slightest. He adores you, everything about you.

He’s surprisingly accepting, brushing it off easily, and immediately thanking you for sharing such information with him.

Goes on a tangent on how it shouldn't ever be something you should be ashamed of.

He’ll drain the blood out of anyone who dares say otherwise. (He already has)

You’re perfect and as long as you’re comfortable with it all, then he has no qualms.

Not much changes about your relationship other than the fact that he’ll only continue to love you more till his undead heart ceases to exist.

: ̗̀➛WYLL

“Oh! What wonderful news! I couldn't have guessed. Well, does this call for a celebration? A peaceful night out? Whatever you wish, it is yours, love.”

Surprised as well, but the shock quickly turns into joy. Don't mistake his chuckling for mockery, if anything he's happy.

If you allow it, he’d gently take your hand into his own, kissing your bare knuckles with that same tenderness you've grown to be smitten with.

This new sprinkle of information doesn't bother him at all, in fact, he’s grateful that you’d feel safe enough to share such a thing with him.

You're handsome just as you are and he’d never ask for you to change.

If you have top surgery scars, he’d speak with the weight of a thousand love letters of how gorgeous they are and how it’s one of his favorite parts of your body.

He’ll swear on his oath to beat the shit confront anyone who dares try to insult you for who you are.

Know this is something he’d always accept you for.

: ̗̀➛GALE

“You are? Well isn't this a pleasant little surprise? Good on you! Perhaps that's why I fell for you? You were just utterly TRANScending!” (bare with him please)

Oh?… Oh!

Confused, takes a few moments to process the information but he's definitely accepting. He just never realized.

Either way, he loves you. You’re still the man he fell in love with all those nights ago, why should he think of you any differently? He’ll praise your body regardless.

He’s pleased to know that you were comfortable enough to share such information with him. He can understand how difficult it might be to reveal such things aloud.

Perhaps he could even help in some what? Learn some magic to make your body look the way you wish to make you feel more comfortable.

This hardly changes a thing about your relationship other than a few curious questions about the whole process but he never digs too deep out of respect.

Consider anyone who tries to mock you for this, deceased. (He will fireball them off a cliff or consume every magical artifact they had on them.)

Nothing, not even this, would stop him from being with you.

: ̗̀➛KARLACH

“For real?! No way! Never could have guessed! Well either way, I still think you’re pretty damn cool!”

Shocked, excited, then shocked again.

Never actually thought of it as a possibility, I mean why would she?

This just gives her the excuse to love you ten times more! What else did you expect? She’d welcome you with open arms (as long you don't burn of course)

Assuming she can touch you, she’d already be lifting you up into the air, giving hug after hug as she chuckles and jumps about with you in her arms.

As long as you are happy and comfortable, she is too, she wants to make sure your whole ‘coming out’ moment is one filled with joy.

Will absolutely demolish anyone who tries to be mean to you because of this (as if she wouldn't demolish anyone who makes fun of anything about you).

Her love for you is the one thing of hers that’ll never burn out.

: ̗̀➛SHADOWHEART

“Hm. Quite the revelation, not one that I am disappointed to hear in the slightest… I’m happy for you and if there is anything that I can do for you I’ll be right here as always.”

Surprised but not too shocked by the news. She's not bothered by it at all.

Your trans? Cool. As long as you’re happy then she sees no reason why she should say anything negative. She's happy for you either way.

All she sees is the man she fell in love with, her newfound information doesn't change that.

Accepts you immediately with a warm smile on her face.

She doesn't need you to be anything more or less than what you are now, and if new changes do decide to come, she’ll welcome them with an open heart.

Her glare is enough to ward off anyone with the intent of insulting you for who you are.

You were her light in a world full of darkness, loving you in this life to the next.

: ̗̀➛LAE’ZEL

“Is this supposed to make me see you any differently? To see you anything less than the warrior you are? Zhak vo’n fynh duj, that is what you’ll always be.”

And?

This changes nothing, but if coming out to her made you feel any better then of course she’s glad her as-stoned face as she appears.

She still respects you and sees you as the same admirable individual she completely fell for.

You've proved yourself, you've fought hard for her, for your friends, for yourself, and you've done so much to light her heart aflame. This wouldn't deter her fiery love for you.

If you have top surgery scars? Even better! She loves them as much as she adores all your battle scars. A precious mark she could always praise.

You can't stop her from cutting the heads off of anyone who dares try to insult you though.

Even before the words escape their lips-

Nevertheless, you are still the one person she truly bleeds for.

: ̗̀➛HALSIN

“You are? Well. I’m honored to be the one you chose to share this with, my heart. Know that even so, my love for you is as boundless as the ever-flowing river.”

Not bothered at all by the news.

He's seen too many things in his life to ever make him surprised or revolt at this new information.

In the end of the day, he loves everything that you are and thank the Gods that he was blessed to gaze upon someone as gorgeous as you.

Immediately accepts you as you are as well, why would he ever ask you to be any different?

If you have any top surgery scars, he litters them with gentle kisses, just as he does with every little scar on your body.

You can see him visibly tense whenever someone dares insult you. He's a snap away from mauling them but he keeps it together for you.

You’re his to love, to protect, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #bg3 headcanon #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #bg3 wyll #bg3 karlach #bg3 lae’zel #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 headcanons #astarion #gale #halsin #wyll #karlach #lae’zel #shadowheart

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trashytoastboi · 9 months

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Could I request a pregnancy and parental headcannon for killer I loved your others and killer is one of my favorite. I love your writing!😍😍

Heyya! Of course bean ^^ so sorry for the late reply and long wait, hope you enjoy~

Headcanons: Killer x F! S/O - Pregnancy and Parental

(Female pronouns)

Killer

Pregnancy

🍜 Honestly, probably some of the most unexpected pieces of news Killer ever anticipated on hearing. He had been preoccupied with survival and grandeur dreams of elevating Kid to be the pirate king. While navigating the craziness that was the grandline and the new world. So hearing {Name} tell him the news of her pregnancy was very unexpected. She waited, hoping to find an opportune moment but one never arised, so in perhaps a little more casual manner than she wanted, she delivered the news over sharing a bowl of pasta.

🍜 Well after the initial choking on his noodles, Killer had to take a moment. He gathered his thoughts, being the worry wart he weighed the pros and cons of the news. {Name} knew Killer, so his outright lack of a reaction was expected but still anxiety inducing nevertheless. “Are you sure?” Was Killer’s first words, {Name} confirmed once again and explained being checked three times by different doctors who all confirmed the news. Truth be told, Killer felt so out of depth but still he concealed a smile beneath his mask.

🍜 Killer is the pique of information, he knows every good food, bad food, and expected symptom. Everything, in fact he was so involved that he developed morning sickness. The condition is better known as sympathetic pregnancy. Killer becomes a bit overbearing and tries to restrict {Name’s} contact with anything dangerous and begins to think in extremities. {Name} does calm him down, explaining that all that information is very vital and his concern is valid, but she knows her body as well. Sometimes all it took was placing his hand on her stomach to feel those over energetic kicks to really calm him down.

🍜If he could, he would literally carry her everywhere. {Name} refuses, but Killer still offers all the time. To make up for this Killer does frequently insist on giving {Name} foot massages, knowing that her feet will hurt after too much walking and standing. The rest of the crew also got a tad annoyed by Killer’s baby proofing of literally everything on the ship. Or accidentally neglecting duties because he is too distracted reading all those parenting books.

🍜Had roped Kid into preparing a whole bunch of stuff like toys, a crib and even a mobile. The crew honestly got so excited thanks to Killer that there was a silent war over who would be named the official godfather. Though Killer had already dubbed them all the uncles. Killer also grew insanely adept at sewing because he made a majority of {Name’s} maternity clothes and some babygrows, one in just about every colour.

Parental

🍜 Killer had been imagining the moment when he would first see and meet his child. He never knew what he would feel, or how he would react. Newborns admittedly looked a little uglier than he expected. He couldn’t fathom how such a tiny and fragile human existed. Killer never once sat and thought about how everyone started as babies, it’s not one of those things he thinks about but seeing his child and just how tiny they were, they could practically fit in the palm of his hand.

🍜 So hesitant and afraid to hold the tiny baby. Takes a lot of encouragement and reassurance from {Name} before Killer feels secure enough to hold his child for the first time. He remembers being nervous, but also excited. The soft bundle of warmth that made some weird noises while remaining fast asleep in his arms. Much like {Name} the process of learning to be a parent was an arduous one, Killer was more afraid of accidentally hurting them than anything.

🍜 10/10 Killer would do anything for this tiny human, no questions asked. The feelings of being a parent was not just the anxiety, the questions of if he was doing it well or even regretting mistakes where he could have handled it differently. It was an inexplicable and sometimes overwhelming feeling of love and joy even from the most mundane things. Looking forward to seeing them grow but at the same time being sad about it, a bittersweet feeling.

🍜 In terms of how Killer tries to shape his parenting is a little on the strict side. He explains the best he can, to a level that could be understood by a child for the rules he enforces. He is permissive at times when it can be afforded and does indulge and encourage curiosity unless it something that could be detrimental or dangerous for them. On some things he is immovable and stubborn. A fair example was when he put his foot down, not allowing his babybean to eat too many sweets in fear of them getting stomach aches or cavities. Killer was devastated when they said that they hated him though.

🍜 Before making any big decisions or needing some form of council he always fell to {Name’s] wisdom, she always explained things in a different way or could see things differently. Sometimes he didn’t know if he was doing this whole dad thing right, he felt insecure in himself despite always trying his best. He knew that sometimes his intentions couldn’t easily be conveyed or could be misunderstood. Killer truly wants the best for babybean, and constantly tries to work to achieve that.

#one piece #one piece killer #killer #trashytoastboi #female pronouns #fluff #sfw #murder machine killer #kamizo the manslayer #massacre soldier killer #one piece imagines #one piece scenarios #one piece headcanons #female reader #killer x reader

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alyswritings · 2 years

Text

Tommy

Request: Helloo I do not know whether you have done this before but could you perhaps write about Tom Holland and his sister (who is ten years younger than him) who are the closest of the siblings and the others being jealous…?

Tom Holland x sister!reader

Summary: Tom and Y/N are closest, earning some jealousy from the other brothers.

Warnings: brothers being jealous, really just fluff

a/n: thank you for the request @lokisgoddessofwar!! sorry it took forever to get out! hope everybody enjoy!!

(gif not mine)

When Y/N was born, the brothers were excited to have another sibling. Well, since Paddy was two, he wasn't super excited since he didn't get the big deal. Tom and the twins weren't sure how to feel about getting a little sister since they kind of wanted another brother. But after she was born, they were excited and couldn't wait for her to get older so she could play with them like Paddy was starting to be able to.

After she started getting older, the four brothers all enjoyed teaching her new things and being there for milestones. When she was old enough, they helped her learn how to swim, ride a bike, tie her shoes, and whatever else she was interested in learning if they could help her, they would.

For whatever reason, Y/N always gravitated towards Tom the most ever since she was a baby. Whenever she would cry as a baby, the only one aside from Nikki to calm her down was Tom. Her first steps were even her walking to Tom.

Given the small age difference, everybody figured that Y/N and Paddy would be the closest. But despite the ten year age difference, she finds most comfort in Tom, always wanting to be around him.

"Tommy! Tommy!" Four year old Y/N runs to her fourteen year old brother. The Holland family are in Thailand while Tom films The Impossible.

"What, love?" Tom looks down at her, the girl hugging his leg.

"Can you help me look for shells?" Y/N asks.

"I thought the twins were helping you." Tom says.

"They started finding crabs. I don't like crabs. They pinch and they're scary." Y/N says.

"Okay, Y/N/N. Come on." Tom grabs her hand, dragging her down the beach to resume her search for seashells.

The two continue their search, finding a good amount, Tom carrying most of them for his toddler sister.

"Why does she always go to you?" Harry complains.

"Because you two scare her away with grabs." Tom retorts. Both twins roll their eyes.

- - -

When Tom started leaving more for filming and the rest of the family didn't often go with him, Y/N was always pretty sad while he was gone. While he was away, she would call him at any possible time. Whenever he came home, she'd give him the biggest hug and refuse to leave his side until he had to leave again.

"Where's Tommy?" Y/N asks Sam who is in the kitchen cooking.

"He's outside with Tess. What do you need?" Sam asks the eleven year old.

"I want my hair braided." Y/N informs the eighteen year old.

"I can do it." Sam offers.

"You're cooking. I was looking for Tom, anyway." Y/N says, quickly making her way to the backyard.

"I was looking for Tom anyway." Sam quietly mimics in a higher pitched voice. "You have other brothers." He grumbles.

"What's up?" Harry walks in, Paddy close behind.

"You guys ever get jealous of Tom and Y/N?" Sam asks.

"Yes." Harry nods.

"Occasionally, I guess." Paddy shrugs.

"She's aware we're also useful, right?" Sam asks.

"It's not like she never comes to us. She just prefers Tom." Harry says. "Besides, don't you spend a lot of time with her when me and Tom are away?"

"I guess that's true." Sam mumbles. "Can you two leave now, then?"

"Nice try." Harry quips.

- - -

Sam, Harry, and Paddy watch as Tom and Y/N play air hockey, her choosing Tom over them to play against.

"You know, you think I'd be use to the favoritism fifteen years later." Harry says.

"It's not favoritism. It's a close bond." Paddy counters.

"Which equals favoritism." Sam argues.

"Unless he pisses her off." Harry continues.

"Yeah, I know." Paddy mumbles.

"I mean, I can see her not wanting to play with Sam. You are a sore loser." Harry says.

"I am not!" Sam protests.

"You hit Tom with the air hockey paddle one time." Harry reminds.

"Shut up." Sam grumbles, remembering the event. "That was years ago."

"Well, still happened." Paddy says making Sam shove him.

"Hey." They look up to see Tom and Y/N walk over, Tom's arm around Y/N's shoulders and a bright grin on her face.

"I won." Y/N informs, the proud grin on her face getting even wider.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Tom lightly rolls his eyes, gently shoving her head away making her laugh.

"Least you didn't hit me with the puck or anything." Y/N says.

"Will you guys ever let that go?" Sam groans.

"No." The other four answer making the second oldest roll his eyes.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." Y/N says before going to the restroom.

"What's got you three so gloomy?" Tom asks.

"Nothing." The younger three grumble in unison.

"Yeah, no, it... it really seems like you guys are living the life." Tom sarcastically remarks.

"Shut it, Tom." Harry spares a small glare at his older brother.

"What did I do?" Tom quietly chuckles, giving them a confused look.

"You're her favorite." Paddy pouts.

"That's not my fault." Tom insists. "Besides, if it bothers you so much talk to her about. Don't sit and pout and let the green eyed monster control you."

"But then she's gonna know." Harry complains.

"Mm. Yeah, bummer. Cool, well, then spend the rest of our lives being pouty babies because she prefers coming to me for stuff." Tom says.

"Even if we told her, you'd still be the favorite." Sam says.

"Favorite what?" Y/N asks, walking over.

"Nothing." The twins and Paddy immediately answer, Y/N giving them a suspicious look.

"They're jealous I'm your favorite brother." Tom informs.

"Tom!" The other three protest.

"For how long?" Y/N asks.

"Sixteen years." Harry quietly answers after a few moments.

"Wha-- you just-- did you just accept it or... are you, like, silently suffering?" Y/N asks.

"Both?" Sam answers, but it sounds like a question.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Y/N chuckles.

"Because it'd be awkward." Sam says.

"And you might think we're babies." Harry adds.

"I don't wanna talk about feelings. Gross." Paddy grimaces.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel... I don't know, not super liked or anything. I do love you guys. Tommy just... he was always the nicest when we were little. And he handled crying better than any of you. He was less reluctant to play dolls and dress up."

"I played with you all the time." Sam insists.

"For like twenty minutes. Tom would play as long as I wanted to." Y/N says.

"Interesting given he was a teenager when you were at the age of dress up and Barbies." Paddy says.

"See? I'm just the best brother." Tom smirks, wrapping his arm around Y/N again.

The other three start protesting, the four brothers beginning to bicker.

"Okay, okay, hey. Hey!" Y/N calls, getting them to stop. "Relax. I love you all, I'll start spending more time with you guys, just... chill out."

"Is he actually your favorite?" Harry asks, pointing to Tom.

"Usually." Y/N admits. The other three protest as Tom grins. "Okay, okay, but... Pads, you're my favorite video game buddy. Harry, you're a good photographer teacher. And your curls are the bounciest." She smiles, gently tugging on one of his curls and watching it bounce.

"And Sammy..." She goes next to the brunette, wrapping her arm around his waist. Sam lightly wraps his arm around her. "You give the best hugs. Well... maybe you're tied with Tommy. But you always cook my favorite foods which I appreciate."

"Hey! You said you love my hugs most!" Tom pouts.

"I just said you guys were tied." Y/N says.

"Ha! You have to compete for something." Sam smiles, Tom mocking him.

"Piss off." Tom shoves his brother who laughs.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @peyton-14

#tom holland x sister reader #tom holland x sister!reader #tom holland #sam holland #sam holland x sister reader #harry holland #harry holland x sister reader #paddy holland #paddy holland x sister reader #holland!sister

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outofangband · 17 days

Text

@imakemywings I really love the collection of Narn quotes you made here and your awesome responses to them and obviously because I am very biased My favorite one was the one about Morwen

"But when they bade Turin turn and look back upon the house of his father, then the anguish of parting smote him like a sword, and he cried: 'Morwen, Morwen, when shall I see you again?' But Morwen standing on her threshold heard the echo of that cry in the wooded hills, and she clutched the post of the door so that her fingers were torn."

It’s such a vivid quote; I have always thought about how it’s impossible to tell if Morwen is intentionally replacing her grief for the physical pain of her fingers being cut open or if she is unaware of the pain because of her grief and/or her suppression of it. Both of those seem in character for her. I really loved @imakemywings ‘s analysis of it; Morwen is cold and blunt but she is absolutely not unaffected by her child’s grief, we see it again and again, like in this quote yoo. She is acutely aware of it, perhaps even more so than her own, but she is determined for her son to survive and for her son to survive not as a thrall to the occupying men. And it’s not just that he is her son, he is also among the last Bëorians left alive. There is a cultural legacy as much as a family one and even by sending him away she knows at least some of this legacy may well be lost

but I just keep thinking about Morwen having to send Túrin away and how in my opinion this cannot be separated from the implicit separation between Morwen and her parents some sixteen years before.

Morwen’s past is within the lines of The Children of Húrin, not directly stated beyond “the sorrows of the house of Bëor saddened her heart she came as an exile to Dor-lómin from Dorthonion after the ruin of the Bragollach”. We know her father is Baragund who remained in Dorthonion with Barahir until he and the other outlaws were murdered, several years later. We are not given names or fates of either Morwen or Rían’s mothers but I don’t think it’s unreasonable to infer that Morwen was effectively orphaned in the Bragollach. We know she was a child when this happened (None of this is new information or anything, I’ve rambled about it a million times before in my houseless for exiles tag)

She sends Túrin away knowing that when her parents sent her away for safety, she never saw them again and that her safety was temporarily and fragile and has now been broken. It’s such a devastating decision for her and I love her so much.

I also think about this passage, which comes two pages before, and is probably the most emotionally honest that Morwen is in the entire book, and I am sure you know I do not mean this at all as an insult to her

“I am sending you away so that you did not learn it. Morwen answered, and she set him before her and looked into his eyes as if she were trying to read some riddle there. “It is hard, Túrin, my son,” she said, at length “not hard for you only. It is heavy on me in evil days to judge what is best to do. But I do as I think right for why else should I part with a thing most dear that is left to me.”

(Note The parallel here to Túrin, noticing “that his father often looked steadfastly out him as a man might look at something dear that he must part from”.)

Morwen has no allusions about what might await Túrin when he leaves and it speaks a lot to the horror of post Nírnaeth Hithlum that she will risk this to spare him death or captivity at the hands of the incomers. She’s survived invasion before, after all.

#the silmarillion #musing and meta #the children of húrin #morwen #Túrin #houseless for exiles

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rockstrais · 1 month

Note

What are your favorite aspects of Emerald & Mercury’s relationship?

this is a very broad question…. my gosh where do I begin?

I’ll start with how they didn’t choose each other each other by their own accord. emerald initially vetoed against mercury joining their party. it took them a while to actually accept the other’s very existence. em asks merc why he joins them. he says it was fate. cinder and her show up looking for his father the night he killed him? what else could that be except destiny. as we know, destiny & fate are heavy theme in rwby. the characters have to spend time challenging their ideas of that. we see that with pyrrha, ruby, weiss etc… but the thing is whether they were fated to meet… mercury and emerald subconsciously choose one other—despite their own protests. they’re the only people their age (literal seventeen year olds at the beginning of the show) they are each other’s first friends—and perhaps first loves(?) (wishful thinking on my part)

i also enjoy the symbolism around them. they foil and compliment each other nicely.

emerald is the gemstone of the planet mercury! in her concept art for v2, she’s seen wearing gold (linking her to cinder) jewelry. it’s later changed to silver (linking her to mercury).

emerald also has light/day symbolism! and mercury also has night/dark symbolism. every blocking of each scene they are in together has emerald in the light, representing how she’s always been morally good; and mercury teetering into the dark, representing how he keeps getting swept toward morally bad people. figures since he’s named mercury. he’s gonna be the one who is more morally grey than his peer. (haha, get it?) but as we see, emerald will get him to face the light.

their struggles also foil each other too. she projects a pseudo sister-mother relationship onto cinder, since she lacks that familial connection. she yearns for love above all else. it’s why she joined and stayed with cinder for so long. his father raised him to be killing-machine. to be the best of the best in his craft. of course he was never enough. (insert silver medal joke here) mercury craves respect above all else. it’s why he joined cinder. it’s why he accepted salem’s hasty promotion. he wants to be taken seriously very, very badly.

though unknowingly to both of them—they have what they want already!

mercury loves emerald unconditionally as she so desperately desires, you can see he cares for her. He might not show it in the best ways possible all the time, but he does. what is love if not wanting to crack a joke in front of the cute girl you barely know who’s now your partner in crime any chance you get? what is love if not trying to convince your best friend (though you’d never admit it aloud because your dad called it a weakness) to let go of the woman who is not a mother or sister to her whatsoever? what is love if not protecting the only person you give a damn about from some weird freak of a grown man who keeps threatening her?

emerald respects—dare i say admires—mercury as he badly craves. what is respect if not immediately going to apologize for upsetting him when he brought up his terrible childhood and abusive father because you assumed he didn’t know what it’s like to have such love for a parental figure (one who constantly failed you, not that you can admit it)? what is respect if not immediately trusting him with new information you overhead from a prisoner? over your mentor who just returned from the dead mind you. like, of all people, why is he, the boy you didn’t want, your first choice? if you don’t respect him why do you use his fighting style to escape a sticky situation and his favorite snarky insults? if that’s not respect, then do tell me what is?

and notice how i never said mercury wants love—like yes, he does. but not over respect. he wasn’t raised to need love. to be honest, he never makes a huge point about wanting because he already knows what it is. he learned it from emerald; her respect is her love. which is why he is trying to reciprocate that in the only ways he knows how. emerald doesn’t think her respect is love. her respect for cinder is more unwavering, unhealthy devotion. that’s not love. it’s one-sided. her begrudging obligation to give a damn about mercury has sprung into something much more.

both of them are too stubborn to realize it, but they’re getting and giving what they ask for. once they eventually—oh i can’t wait to see the epiphanies and developments that come from that!

anyways this was very long, sorry. you can see that i’m clearly passionate between these two!

#anon #lets chat!#emerald sustrai #mercury black #emercury #rwby

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kiwixlime · 2 years

Text

Fire

R is for Rivals

You’re the cool leader of Jackson. Who the fuck is Joel Miller?

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader Warnings: Hate fucking, really. Joel is mean. Reader is also mean. Unprotected p-in-v, dirty talk, name calling, degradation, choking, scratching, slapping, age difference. We gettin’ rough up in here, yall. also p.s., sorry if my writing in the beginning is sloppy, i really just wanted to get into the dirty stuff lmfaoooo. and this isn't proofread, i'm sorry i'm sorry.

For months, you’ve been the cool superior of Jackson. Being young gave you an advantage that a lot of the other higher-ups didn’t have. The kids in town came to you for support. And the adults, the ones much older than you, were impressed by your quick wit and eagerness to learn. You had charm, youth, and vigor on your side. It’s the only reason you were offered such a powerful position in the town at your age.

So you can imagine your surprise when you begin to hear talks around town about someone named “Joel” and just how interesting and mysterious he is. Apparently, he’s some super impressive old man who is also handsome and scary and the brother of Tommy. Nepotism, of course. Your first thought. Your second thought is - who the fuck is this guy and why is he trying to swerve into your lane?

You are the fun leader. You are the one who always has large groups and endless patrol list requests. People come to you for the excitement, for your personality. But now, there are whispers of Joel. Joel this. Joel that. Well, you’ve had enough of Joel.

Is it petty? Immature? Maybe. Okay, yes, it is. But do you care? No. After the fourth person brings up that man’s name, you can’t sit quietly anymore. Patience has never been your strong suit.

You make a plan to confront Joel about overstepping. He’s new, so he doesn’t know how things work around here yet. And that’s okay, you suppose. You can fill him in. And maybe he’ll back off, and you’ll get your fanbase back. Perhaps you're being a little dramatic, but what else do you have to look forward to these days? Celebrities aren't real anymore. But you're as close as it gets.

So you're on a mission as you stomp your way through town, dipping into shops and checking around corners for any sight of Tommy or Maria or whoever that might know something about Joel's whereabouts. Passersby offer you friendly smiles, asking how you are, making usual chit-chat. You appreciate their efforts, but you’re still salty that your normal band of followers has fucked off to tail someone else. So you aren't exactly in the mood for conversation.

When you make it to the stables, you find Tommy speaking with Ian, one of the men who work with the horses. Tommy greets you, unaware of your irritation, which only flares up more when you learn that Joel is on a patrol. By request of the residents. The ones that usually line up to work with you.

That pisses you off. No one invited you to the outing. You don’t think it’s fair, but you swallow your pressing thoughts and thank Tommy for the information. The last thing you need to do is complain to your rival’s brother.

Defeated, you return home and spend the rest of the day deciding how to approach this intruder. Knowing that he’s related to the most powerful couple in town, you should be polite. You should be friendly - introduce yourself and make nice. But hey, you’re still young. Sure, you’ve had to grow up pretty quickly in this environment, but you still get to act like a brat. It’s your obligation as a youth.

A quick shower, nap, and some food restore your energy, adding a pep to your step and determination in your heart. You’re sure the last patrol group is back by now. It’s nightfall, and Maria is adamant about everyone returning before it gets pitch black.

They’re probably all gathered at Seth’s, which isn’t your favorite place to hang out since he gives you the creeps. But you’ll suffer if it means meeting the enemy. Even though you spent all day thinking over what you were going to say, you’re at a total loss for words. You don’t want to show immaturity, but damn it, you’re pissed.

So you swing open the door, immediately overwhelmed by the number of bodies throughout the room. Is this Joel’s doing? Does he have this kind of pull already?

“Christ, who is this guy?” You mumble to yourself as you squeeze through groups of people, all whispering to themselves. You spot Tommy easily and assume that Joel will be close by. When you get a moment of space, you let your eyes scan your surroundings and sure enough, standing next to Tommy stands an unfamiliar man with an unfamiliar girl.

Joel.

You hate to admit this; you really do. But as you stare at his large figure, drinking in his rugged features, you can’t stop yourself from thinking he is, actually, hot as fuck. He’s tall and fit with dark hair and intense eyes. For a second, you forget you’re supposed to hate him, as he looks like an actual God standing before you.

Okay, you get the hype a little bit.

Maybe you can be friends. Maybe you can work together. You wouldn’t mind having someone like him on your side… Even if it’s just to look at him.

New plan. You compose yourself and glide over, ready to make your introductions. A smile finds your lips, albeit hesitantly. You're still competitive, after all. Tommy notices you and stops talking, offering you his arm for a hug, which you accept.

“Hey, kid,” he says, playfully ruffling your hair. “Missed ya today. Hope you got enough rest, you’ve got a big patrol tomorrow.” He tells you.

“Really?” You beam, happy to hear that some of this town still has their loyalty to you. “That’s great. I can’t wait!”

“Joel,” Tommy acknowledges his brother. “This girl right here is special,” he says as he introduces you by name. “I think you’ll find her rather impressive. She’s the youngest leader in Jackson.”

Tommy speaks like he’s proud of you. And you’re extremely thankful for his praises. All those positive words go to your head, stroking the embers of your ego. You turn to Joel, waiting for his thoughts, frowning when he begins laughing.

“You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He asks, looking at Tommy with bewilderment. “You put a child in charge?” His face is cold and emotionless. The warmth that had been decorating his facade has slipped as he stares you down.

“Hey!” You snap, instantly offended, your own switch flipping. “I’m not a child. I’m 21, thank you very much.” Ew, you think. What a dick. Your first assumption about him was correct, and you were stupid to think otherwise. But that's what you get for letting lust take over your command.

“Right,” he chuckles, brushing you off like you’re nothing more than an interruption. A child. “Tommy, there’s no way this girl is qualified to run anything.” His words are hurtful, and he doesn't even care that you're standing right there.

Well, you can be just as rash. “And you are, grandpa?” You huff, taking Tommy and the unnamed girl by surprise. The girl slowly steps away until she's out of the picture, but you continue on your rant. “You sure you can handle it out there? Aren’t you afraid of breaking a hip?”

“Oh, that's mature of you,” Joel scoffs, pointing out exactly what you were thinking. Not your best response, and you’re sure Tommy is less than thrilled with you right now. But fuck that. You’re not going to let some stranger talk down on you like this. Who cares how important he thinks he is?

“Hey, man,” you start, closing the gap between the two of you. He has a whole foot on you as far as height goes, but you've taken down men bigger than him before because you're young. You're not afraid of him. “You don’t know shit about me. I came over here to introduce myself. I have done nothing to deserve this. Who the fuck are you?"

Joel rolls his eyes, putting up a hand to stop your babbling. How dare he treat you that way? You look at Tommy, your mouth agape as your brain tries to scramble together a few words. Unfortunately, he’s of no help, just as lost as you are. He didn't think Joel was still surly.

The older Miller doesn’t say another word to you, and it irritates you more than it should. You decide, from then on, Joel Miller is your opponent. And anytime someone mentions him, your blood boils.

Months have passed, and for the residents of Jackson, they find their entertainment in the rivalry that’s built up between you and Tommy Miller’s older brother. They love to gossip about you and Joel. And even though it’s been a long time, you still can’t find common ground. He’s so full of himself. And you hate it. He acts like he’s better than everyone. And you know he’s not.

You don’t have a problem letting him know that. Especially when he’s being a dick for no apparent reason. Looking at you with disgust. Snickering behind your back. And you're the child. God, you hate him.

For example, one day, all you were doing was minding your own damn business at the bar. Your friends were there for a few minutes to catch up and ask your advice on something personal. And Joel, well, Joel had to make a comment about “daycare” or something along those lines, and you just lost it.

You let your anger get the best of you, taking your drink and throwing it in his face. Of course, that caused him to lash out, grabbing you by the wrist and calling you an entitled brat with no grasp on the real world. If it hadn't been for Seth, that creep, you would have clawed Joel's eyes out with no remorse.

But...there's always someone around to stop you from tearing that man to shreds.

And that's how you ended up here, once again, arguing with Joel and Tommy at Seth's place. Someone, probably Maria, thought it would be funny to pair the two of you up for patrol tomorrow. She figured you’d either work out your issues or one of you would end up dead. Either way, the tension in Jackson would be gone.

Maybe that’s drastic. But you wouldn’t put it past her.

“It’s bullshit, Tommy!” Joel yells, snapping you back to the situation at hand. His face is written in anger, gritting his teeth as he repeatedly curses out his little brother for putting the two of you together. “This is ridiculous, I’m not takin' part in this!”

“Joel, wait a damn minute,” Tommy interjects before his brother causes an even bigger scene. “This is for your own good!” He shouts, trying to convince even himself that this was the right decision.

“My own good,” Joel seethes in disbelief. “Right. Ya know, you were stupid to put a goddamn kid in charge around here! She’s gonna get both of us killed. I’m not a goddamn babysitter!”

Joel writes you off quickly, and it’s something that bothers you in ways you don’t quite understand. You work hard to prove yourself worthy of your position in Jackson. Having someone like Joel dismiss you without care is hurtful because you know that others will listen to him. They will follow along.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” You chime in, standing up for yourself. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. I’ve done a damn good job of keeping these people safe. You don’t get to take that away from me!”

“Oh, you know what?” Joel scoffs, simply irritated by the sound of your voice. “You can talk all you want, but the fact is - you are useless to me. You're just a stupid kid. And I'm not--”

“Enough!”

The loud interruption comes from Maria, standing off to the side with her hands on her hips, disappointment in her eyes. She looks at you, and at that moment, you want to scrunch up into a ball and die. This woman trusts you with her town, with her family. And here you are…acting like that angsty teenager she first met. Words can’t express how guilty you feel.

But then she looks at Joel, and your heart rate slows as the heat is off you. You wonder if she’ll say anything to the older man. He’s the adult here. Well, the more mature adult. He should know better, right? Tommy’s brother or not, he should be put in his place. His words really hurt you...

“Joel,” she scolds, zeroing in on him. “This is for your own good. You need to learn how to get along with others. I paired you together because I feel like she can learn a lot from you,” Maria admits as she gestures to where you sit, slumped back against the wall with a sour stomach. “She’s a lot tougher than you think. And if you offered her a chance, you would be impressed.”

You look at Joel, noting the tightness in his jaw as he bites his tongue to hold back some snarky comment. He doesn’t like hearing what Maria has to say, it’s so easy to pick up on. But he’s respectful enough to keep his mouth shut around her. At least it’s not all women he seems to disrespect.

“And you,” she huffs as her attention shifts to you. Well, shit. You should have known you wouldn’t come out of this unscathed. “I admire your passion, I do. But honey, you’ve got to pull that in. You’re still mouthy, and no one wants to take orders from a naive, foolish girl.”

“I’m sorry, Maria,” you say quickly, shame creeping its way up your spine. You stand back up and dust off your jeans, sheepishly looking at her. “You’re right.”

“I know,” the woman states, crossing her arms in finality. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Joel,” she starts, eyes darting back to the bitter man beside you. “Think about Ellie,” she says, grabbing your attention. You take a chance to steal a gaze at the young girl, curious to know what her deal is. She doesn’t say much, and mostly sticks to Joel’s side like glue. A lot of questions linger at the back of your mind… “Ellie could learn a lot from this one.” She ends her sentence by nodding at you.

And all it takes is that gentle notion from Maria. Your insecurities wash away, and whatever thoughts Joel may have of you, well, you don’t care anymore. Maria’s words are reassuring, and you appreciate the faith she has in you.

Ellie blushes at the mention of her name and follows Maria out of the diner, the two of them speaking in whispers. When they're gone, you turn around and face Joel. Your confidence is back seeing him knocked down a few pegs.

“See you tomorrow!” You chirp, holding your head high, bouncing away on your heels as you feel on top of the world. Tomorrow will be fine.

The next morning, you’re up bright and early, just in time to see the sun peek through the clouds and welcome you. It’s a new day and although you spent most of the night tossing and turning, you’re ready to head out with Joel. You’ve made the decision to be the bigger person today. Be the person Maria knows you are.

You’re the first one at the stables, greeting Ian with a bright smile and a little treat from home. You like to bake in your spare time, and you know that Ian appreciates the goodies you bring for him since he doesn’t get much time away in the mornings. Another little thing the residents love about you.

You’re thoughtful.

“Is she ready?” You ask, looking past him for your horse, Siren.

Ian nods, pocketing the muffin for a later time. “All yours, m’lady,” he says as he hands you the reins. “Nice day today,” he adds, looking up at the sky. “She’ll be happy to stretch her legs.”

“I bet,” you coo, giving your loveable horse some much needed affection. “I’m actually looking forward to the sunshine, too.”

“Company,” Ian blurts before you can continue on with your thoughts. You crane your neck to look to where you just came from and sure enough, you see Joel stomping his way towards you with a sour look on his face. “Someone ain’t a morning person,” Ian chuckles.

“Guess not,” you snort and hop on Siren. “Good morning, Joel,” you say blandly, maintaining a neutral expression. You can’t be nice, but you can be indifferent. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

He looks at you, lip twitching in annoyance. “Whatever,” he grumbles, walking past you to his own horse.

Wonderful, you think. Awesome. This is going to be the best patrol of your life!

The gates close, and you and Joel head up the trail in silence. He doesn’t even look at you, doesn’t give you the time of day. His horse trots in front of yours, giving you the perfect view of his back. If only you had something you could throw at him, maybe knock him off his horse, watch him fall to the ground.

You laugh to yourself at the thought, and it’s enough to grab Joel’s attention. He stops suddenly, letting you catch up. Once your horses are side-by-side, he sneers at you.

“Somethin’ funny?” He snaps, his large hands turning into fists from sheer frustration.

“Not at all,” you lie with a shrug of your shoulders.

“God,” he groans, shaking his head. “Can’t believe I got stuck with you,” he mutters.

“Well,” you hiss, “I’m not exactly thrilled to be out here with you, either. Let’s just…get this over with. It’ll go by much faster if you stop complaining about a 21 year old girl!”

Irritation takes over and you give in to it, ordering Siren to ride ahead of Joel. You’re trying to be better, to be good. But it’s so fucking difficult with that man. Your mere existence seems to set him off.

It doesn’t take long after that to reach the first outpost. You tie Siren up outside, quickly entering the old library and leaving Joel behind. He comes in after you, boots echoing against the crumbling floor. You walk in different directions to check out each room before meeting up to sign the ledger.

You check the notes from the previous patrol, humming to yourself as you read through what Eugene left behind. Next to you, Joel taps his foot impatiently, and you can feel his body practically towering over you. But you don’t rush. You let out a little laugh at the drawing Eugene and his partner left for you and for whatever reason, that makes Joel snap.

“Can you hurry the fuck up?” He grumbles with crossed arms. “What’s so damn amusing in that book?”

“What is wrong with you?” You decide to ask, slamming the notebook shut and throwing the pen down beside it. You walk around the desk, putting objects between you and Joel for his safety. “Are you always this rude? Even to your brother? Or that girl…Ellie?”

“That’s none of your business,” he warns, circling the desk you purposely put yourself behind. He comes up to you and you almost stumble back in fear at the pure rage in his eyes. But you hold your ground. “The only issue I have here is workin’ with some juvenile brat.”

“Me?” You huff in disbelief. “I’m the brat? You’ve been nothing but a dick since I met you! How have I offended you that badly? Or are you jealous? You’re not in your prime anymore, are you? Hate to see us younger folk taking over?”

He shakes his head and slams his fist onto the desk. “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” He taunts with a smug grin. “I’ve heard the stories. You’re the fun one. The young one. People like you.”

“Yeah, and?” You breathe once you realize how close he’s gotten to you.

He smiles and leans down so his breath crashes against the side of your face. He brings his lips to your ear and in the quietest voice, he says, “the only reason these people like you is because they want to fuck you.”

You’re so taken aback by his remark, fuming at the audacity of his accusation. Without hesitation, you bring your hand up and slap him harshly across the face. He lets out a laugh, grabbing you by the wrist.

“Watch yourself, little bitch,” he spits and a fire flares within you. You raise your other hand, but Joel’s quick, grabbing you before you can touch him. He spins you around and shoves you back against the desk, making you let out a tiny whimper.

You’re both breathing heavily. Joel’s hard body is firmly pressed to yours. Maybe it’s the weather, or maybe it’s the emotions that have been building in you since you met, but you can’t deny there is something there.

So when his eyes flick to your lips, you throw caution to the wind. You lean into him, pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss he eagerly returns, letting go of your wrists and instead grabbing you by the back of your head. He tugs on your hair as your hands smooth over his chest. This wanton fascination cascades over you with your nails clawing at the buttons of Joel’s shirt.

Not exactly what you were imagining for today, but now it’s all you can think about. The hostility towards Joel threatens to bubble over, frothing inside of you, screaming to release. This is the healthiest way, yeah? This or murder… And from the way he firmly bites on your lip, you know this will feel so much better.

“Fuck,” he drawls out, long and breathy as his hand moves to cup your face. The other squeezes against your hip, practically shaking as he bunches up your shirt. Your body reacts the only way it knows how, pouting and letting out a delicious moan that makes Joel laugh his stupid fucking cocky laugh. “Oh?” He teases, dragging his hand down from your cheek to your chin, tilting your head up. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? All this time. You want someone to fuck you stupid.”

Resentment simmers low in your belly, but it’s, unfortunately, not the only thing you’re feeling. You can’t deny what Joel said is true. Even when he’s rude to you, you just want him to use those words, call you those names, while his dick is buried inside of you. A classic hate fuck.

“Answer me,” Joel demands in a low voice, his thumb brushing over the plushness of your bottom lip. His eyes meet yours, forcing you to hold the uncomfortable contact and making you squirm. “Tell me you fuckin’ want me,” he growls in a whisper.

You glare at him. He has you right where he wants you and you hold no power here. “I want you,” you state through gritted teeth.

The smile that stretches across his lips is perverse and you want to kiss it right off of him. But you can’t. Joel uses his strength to lift you off your feet easily, dropping you on the desk and forcefully pushing you down until your back hits the cold wood. You spread your legs on instinct and Joel fits between them easily. His palm slides up your body, between your tits until it wraps around your throat.

Joel notices the way your eyes gleam with excitement and the tiny sound you make as his fingertips dig into your soft flesh. A light clicks in his mind as he discovers one of your nasty little secrets.

“You like that, don’t you?” He asks, experimentally gripping your throat a little harder. “You like the way my hand feels, cutting off your breath, squeezing so fucking tight your eyes roll back until you see stars. You feel helpless, huh? I have the power here. I’m in charge.” He sets his gaze over your weak body. “I could fuckin’ break you.”

You whine, attempting to speak, but you can’t. All you can do is choke and nod your head the tiniest bit as ecstasy sets in. You’re stupid to trust him. You are. But fuck, he’s so good.

“What’s the matter, bunny?” Joel taunts in a voice sickeningly sweet. Bunny. That shouldn’t be as hot as it is. But no one’s ever called you that before. “Can’t speak?” He chuckles as he loosens his grip, proving he won’t actually hurt you. But he smirks. “Good. That’s just the way I like you.”

“J-Joel,” you choke and he removes his fingers from the side of your neck. He gives you time to catch your breath, watching your chest rise and fall with each deep inhale you take.

“Say it,” he demands as he pushes up your shirt. You sit up weakly just long enough for him to take it off and throw it to the ground. His hands immediately grab your tits and you let out a raspy moan. “Whatever you’re thinking,” Joel groans. “Say it.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, digging your nails into his forearms and shoving his hands off of you. You sit up and reach for his jeans, but he slaps your fingers away.

“I don’t think so,” he says darkly, easily knocking you back down. His body hovers over you and the urge to kiss him bites at your tongue. “I’ll be the one fucking you.”

You sneer and grab his shirt, bringing him down onto you. Your lips meet in a bruising kiss again, his mouth claiming yours, asserting his dominance. He kisses you so hard the air gets knocked from your lungs. Your throat burns, eyelids grow heavy, but you can’t pull away from him. His lips are so warm, so fierce. And his tongue is so silky as it glides against yours.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mutter between kisses, yanking on his hair as you catch your breath once more. He seems to like when you tug at his scalp, groaning in delight each time your fingers pull at the salt and pepper strands.

“And you’re a bratty little bitch,” Joel snaps back, dragging your lip between his teeth, biting down and making you squeak. “Still gonna fuck you, though. Somebody’s gotta fuck that attitude out of you.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes and capture his lips again. His kiss is addictive, tantalizing. You’re on fire from your toes to your fingers and you crave more.

When you let out a soft gasp, Joel breaks. He grabs your throat again, keeping you pinned to the desk as he kisses you with everything in him. His other hand trails down to your thigh, lifting your hips into his, leaving no space. He grinds himself into you, and you groan at the friction of his hardening dick pressing to your core. Fuck, you hate him. And that makes this so much hotter.

“Goddamn,” he breathes, squeezing your ass for the first time. “You are so fuckin’ hot,” he mutters as you arch your body into him. “And so fuckin’ needy,” he comments at your desperate wiggling beneath him. “You look good like this. Bet you’d look even better drunk on my cock, huh?”

“Are you gonna talk about fucking me or are you actually going to fuck me?” You huff, smacking at his chest, which is still hidden behind his damn shirt. You tilt your head just as a smart comment rolls off your tongue. “Do you even have it in you, old man?”

Joel’s eyes darken at your quip, his large hand around your throat tightens before sliding up to knot in your hair. He grabs a handful of your locks, and yanks your head back, exposing your pretty neck to him. “Impatient one, aren’t you? Are you that desperate for my cock? My greedy little bunny,” he coos, his other hand smacking your ass. Hard.

You gasp at the feeling and let out the most pathetic sound you’ve ever heard. Of course, it makes him smirk. You’ll never hear the end of this. Might as well play along. So you bite your lip and nod your head, letting out another whimper. “Fuck me, Joel,” you purr, voice soft and sweet, despite the crude words that follow. “Fuck me like I’m a slut… Like I’m your slut. If you can.”

His jaw clenches and his lips dip to your neck. He kisses the area softly before his teeth scrape over your beautiful skin. He bites at your pulse point, soothing the sting with his tongue before repeating the action. He kisses down your neck, nibbling at every inch of skin available to him, leaving bruises, reminders - a branding. You’re his now. All while his hard dick ruts into you.

His beard tickles you as he sucks your sensitive flesh past his lips, but this is no time to laugh or giggle. There’s nothing light and playful about this. This is pure hatred flowing out of both of you, coming together the only way that seems fitting.

Your eager hands shove his flannel over his shoulders and he shimmies out of it until it hits the floor, followed by his gray undershirt. He’s quick to work on your jeans, pulling them down in frustration. You’d offer to help, but seeing him struggle is much better.

“Damn it, even your pants are a pain in the ass,” he grumbles as he finally gets you out of them. He throws them to the ground and eyes you over. “But fuck, look at you,” he groans, long fingers tracing the thin fabric of your panties. He slips his finger beneath the band, sweeping between your dripping folds. “So wet already, baby,” he smirks, doing it again. “You like it when I touch you? You like when I choke you?”

“Uh huh,” you moan, tilting your hips up, enamored by his touch. His fingers are rough and calloused, but they feel so good gliding over your slit. You shamelessly push back against his hand, needing more, needing to feel full.

“Desperate slut,” he scoffs, but slides his finger into you with ease. You gasp at the intrusion, squirming at the feeling of his finger inside you. It’s been so long for you, you’re overly sensitive. The last time you hooked up with someone was when you first got to Jackson. When Joel adds a second finger, you nearly lose it. “Figures you get off on this,” he chuckles, pulsing two fingers in and out of your soaked cunt.

He kisses your lips as he finger fucks you quickly. The obscene sounds you make as your pussy squelches around him would embarrass you if you weren’t in such a euphoric state. Instead, it makes you eager for more. You want it all. “God, Joel, go faster,” you huff as your walls clench around him.

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do,” he warns as he turns his wrist, slowing down a bit so he’s barely hitting that sweet spot inside of you. He’s cruel, but you already know this. “Take what I give you like the sweet little slut you are,” he demands.

“I fucking hate you,” you groan in frustration, desperate for his fingers. “Arrogant ass—”

“Of course you do,” Joel chuckles and slams his fingers past your walls again. “That’s why your pretty little pussy is clenching around my fingers. Tell me the truth, bunny, tell me you fuckin’ want it. Tell me you want my cock inside you.”

Your mind goes hazy as Joel begins to toy with your clit. Each sensation soaring through you right now is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. But you’re stubborn, refusing to utter those words to Joel. But then he slips a third finger inside of you, curling them and filling you up. He grabs you by the neck again and forces you to look at him.

“Tell me,” he growls. “Tell me you’re a dirty fuckin’ whore who needs my cock.”

You can’t help it. His words are so hot and go straight to your dripping pussy. “Fuck,” you gasp as your head empties of any and all thoughts. You can’t believe you’re going to do this. Give in to Joel Fucking Miller. “I want it, Joel,” you murmur. “I’m a whore and I need your cock.”

“Good girl,” he praises, stopping his brutal motions and slipping his fingers out of you. He flicks his tongue over his glistening digits before guiding them to your lips. “Taste yourself, bunny,” orders. “See how sweet you taste.” You open your mouth like a good girl and suck on his fingers, rolling your tongue over them and tasting your juices. “That mouth is good for something other than complaining,” he smirks.

He undoes his jeans and pulls his cock out, jerking himself quickly in front of you. You reach down and rub yourself as you watch him, licking your lips at his thickness. He’s a jerk, a piece of shit, but he’s a hot guy with a big dick and you fucking need him.

“Spread your legs,” he orders and you do, already in a trance. Damn, maybe you are a whore. His hand wraps around your throat again, a place he seems to love, and he thrusts into you. “Fuck, you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this. Every time you’d open that snappy mouth of yours I’d think about how I could fuck the words right of you,” he admits. “I knew you’d be an eager little cockslut for me.”

“Fuck off,” you groan even though he feels so fucking good stretching you out. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with and your toes immediately curl at how he fills you so well.

“Oh, bunny,” he tsks, cock pushing into you. “I don’t think you want that,” he picks up the pace of his hips and the way he sounds as he pants in your ear turns your brain to mush. He smacks your ass, making you jolt and take him deeper. The slapping of your skin against his is fucking filthy as it resounds through the library, and you try to speak, but find yourself at a loss for words. “Just shut up and look pretty,” Joel tells you. “You’re good at one of those things.”

“Oh, god,” you moan as he slams into you. He’s checking boxes you didn’t even know you had and you think to yourself how lucky you are to have his dick inside you right now. Now that you know what he feels like, you don’t want to share. You don’t want anyone else to experience his talent. You risk looking between your sweaty bodies, almost fainting at the slight tummy bulge he’s giving you. “God,” you whisper again.

“Fucking right,” he hisses, fucking into your tight pussy. “I am your God. Now, stop fuckin’ talkin’ and take my cock like a good girl.” He growls through his teeth, pinning your hips down as he pounds into your wet heat. His mouth hangs open as deep grunts escape him and mumbles under his breath how good you feel around him.

Closing your eyes, you grab onto Joel’s shoulders, holding yourself steady as he fucks your fragile body with force. Your back glides across the desk, slicked with sweat, as he uses you for his pleasure, groping your body, filling your holes, pulling your hips into his. He reaches so deep inside of you, your mouth lulls open, tiny whimpers falling off your tongue as he fucks you dumb.

“You were meant to be fucked like this, used like a toy, like some silly little play thing,” he grunts, pounding into you, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head. You let him. He’s in control of you. “Pussy feels so fucking good. You look good, too.”

Heavy breaths fill the room. Joel’s relentlessly thrusting in and out of you, gasping in your ear, sharing his most erotic sounds. Your eyes are glazed over with lust, your head in the clouds, body surging with electricity. You feel so satisfied. You feel so fucked.

Joel releases his grip on your wrists, allowing you to slide your arms across his shoulders and greedily pull him into you. You raise your hips, meeting each thrust, using your nails to claw down his back and leave your mark. And he lets you, he encourages you.

“Gonna make me cum, darlin’,” he pants deeply, causing your velvety walls to clench around his hard cock. He laughs a little at your reaction. “You want that, don’t you? You want me to cum inside you? Fill you with my hot, sticky load? You wanna be my little cumbunny?”

“Uh huh,” you mewl, dazed with fluttering eyelids and trembling limbs. You lock your legs around Joel’s waist and draw him deeper, grinding down against him to take him for everything he is. His cock, fuck, you love the way it feels, the way it reaches you in places you’ve never felt before. He is a God. He is your God.

“Take my cock, baby,” Joel groans, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. “Fuck, you take it so well.”

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you cry, voice all strained and whiny. It turns his insides to jelly hearing you like that. Hearing you are satisfied with your yappy mouth only focusing on telling him how good he makes you feel.

“You want me to touch you?” He asks, brushing his hand over your lower stomach, watching as your muscles constrict. “Want me to play with your slutty little clit?”

You nod, speechless, mouth hanging open again like a bitch in heat. He loves the way you look right now. Loves to see your hair sticking to your face with sweat, loves to see your cheeks flushed, and your lips shiny with drool.

“Pretty bunny,” he coos, circling your clit with his thumb. “Fucked stupid can’t even talk.”

“Joel,” you groan in irritation, raising your hips.

“Cum with me,” he whispers, rubbing your clit faster. “Cum with me like a good little cumbunny,” he groans.

“Christ, Joel,” you murmur, eyes rolling back as your climax builds. The pressure from Joel’s fingers mixed with his thick cock pulsing inside of you tips you over the edge. And with a scream of his name, you cum, biting your lip as relief takes over you.

Seeing you come undone is what sets Joel off. With a few more hard thrusts, he stalls, releasing his hot cum deep inside of you. You groan at the warmth, and shiver at how good it feels. He takes a few deep breaths, relaxing for a moment before slipping out of you.

You lay back, a little disoriented as you think about what just happened. And about how hard you just came. You only snap into focus when Joel chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” You pout, your defenses ready to go back up.

“That was hot,” he says with sincerity. Then he leans over and kisses your nose. “Think I’ll keep you.”

You roll your eyes and jump down from the desk to put your pants back on. “Asshole,” you say, but in an affectionate way. A cute way. Once you’ve slipped on your shirt, you wait for Joel to finish dressing.

He sighs as he buttons his flannel and nonchalantly strolls over to you. He grabs your lower back, pulling you close to him. “You like it,” he says before kissing your lips.

Masterlist

Joel Miller Taglist: @swtaura - @chxpsi - @extraneous-trip - @cerebellam - @tiredbeebo - @kirsteng42 - @trickstersp8 - @detectivebarba

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