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hiraeth-ink · 7 months

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Could I Be Yours (a Joel Miller fic) Part 3

Pairing - Joel x Married Female Reader

Series Summary - You’ve been married for two years now to your long term man Marcus, but with your dwindling sex life and your marriage on the rocks, you came to an agreement. You're allowed to sleep with other men. The only rules? 1- You have to tell your husband about it. 2- No staying the night, you always leave after sex. And lastly, rule number 3, you can’t sleep with the same man more than once. These rules are in place to avoid feelings blooming, but what happens when you meet Joel, and end up breaking all of the rules? Will it break your marriage too? If faced with a choice between Joel Miller and your husband, who would you choose?

Read part 1 and part 2

Chapter summary - With your feelings for Joel making themselves known you try and make a decision regarding your marriage.

Warnings - infidelity, smut, protected + unprotected piv, oral sex (fem receiving), tiny bit of angst, Joel being a menace, Joel being vulnerable, angry Marcus.

Word Count - 7k+

a/n - Tysm for the continued love and support for this series! So so grateful

Your phone pings with a text notification exactly twenty four hours after you left Joel’s house, exactly twenty four hours after you ran away. You didn’t read it straight away, you couldn’t face what you imagined to be a rejection. So, you turned your phone over so the screen was out of view and busied yourself with a deep clean of the house, you changed bed sheets, cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen, hoovered and mopped the floors but you still saw his face when you blinked, his dark eyes engraved into your eyelids. You showered, washed your hair and aggressively cleaned your body, but you still felt Joel’s trail of lingering kisses burning your skin. Unable to uselessly distract yourself any longer, you picked up your phone and opened the text message from Joel.

Everything ok, sweetheart? You kinda rushed off on me. Call me :)

Reading the text, you struggled to gather your thoughts and make sense of your feelings. It wasn’t a rejection, a hey i don't think we should see eachother anymore text, but it didn’t give you any answers either. He seemed so nonchalant, so blase, as if you hadn’t opened up to him about your feelings at all, as if he hadn't completely and utterly confused you.

Unsure of what to respond, you decide against responding all together, for now, at least. You didn’t feel as though you could call him, you couldn’t even decide on words to send him in a text, there was no way your brain would be able to conjure up a response in real time over the phone. So, you put your phone down again and got through the rest of your weekend, trying not to think about him.

Nothing had changed between you and Marcus, not that you expected it to, you lived like roommates, as if you shared this house and nothing more. He came home late on Saturday night and was out of the house before you woke up on Sunday morning, not even giving you a chance to ask where he was going, although you weren’t sure you would, given the chance.

Monday came and went, with little to no interaction with Marcus, piles of work that you had to get done and a missed call from Joel. You didn’t see the call until an hour later and were too swamped to call back, so you left it. That night after work, you contemplated calling him back, Marcus wasn’t home so you didn't have to worry about him hearing, but you were at a loss for words. You had no idea what to say to Joel, but worse than your lack of words were your nerves. You were nervous as to what his words would be, so you didn’t call.

The next day at work was quieter, you didn’t have to eat your lunch at your desk while you worked so you went for a walk on your lunch break, sitting in the park not far from the office with your lunch. As you sat down, you felt your phone vibrating and, fishing it out of your back pocket, read Joel’s name in bold font across your phone screen. Staring at the writing for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you answered the phone, unable to avoid him any longer. You held the phone up to your ear and watched a bird fly out of a hole in a tree, internally wondering if it was fleeing the nest, like you wanted to and spoke a quiet, “Hi.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” his gruff voice sent shivers down your back, “what's goin’ on, are you ok?”

“I’m ok,” you sigh, mentally kicking yourself for your inability to just let it out, and pause before continuing, “are you?”

“Yeah, I’m just at work,” there was a brief pause, a beat of silence where you both held your phones to your ears, thinking of the right words to say. “Listen, when we were talking that night, I panicked… I kinda froze, I guess.” His voice was apologetic, his normally confident speech was broken into parts by breaks and pauses, stutters and stammers, as if he had thought of what to say beforehand but had more words on his mind. “I shoulda’ said more, I just got nervous,” you heard him take a sip of a drink before continuing, “it’s been years since I’ve felt anything for anyone and…. It's a little weird feelin’ this way for a married woman,” he released a small chuckle at his words, “but I’d be an idiot not to see what happens.”

“I…. Joel I don’t really know what to say,” you answered truthfully, you wished that words would come to your mind, any words other than the ones you spoke, but none did. You were so taken aback by his speech that nothing was coming out of your mouth. Luckily, Joel filled the silence.

“Sarah’s stayin’ at a friends again on Friday. Do ya’ wanna come over?” He asked before quickly adding, “I’ll cook.” As if you needed any more convincing.

“I’d love to,” you said, your smile steadily widening as you spoke.

“And bring some clothes to sleep in this time,” he added, and although his voice was as deep and gruff as ever, you swore you could hear his smile.

“I’d rather wear your clothes to sleep, honestly,” you retorted before saying your goodbyes, with Joel promising to check in with you in a couple days.

After the conversation, Joel was feeling better. His thoughts were still clouded by you, but they were no longer negative. He no longer worried he’d ruined everything by shutting down that night, but his worries were persistent when it came to his feelings. It had been so long since he had felt anything other than lust for a woman, so long since he had wanted to cater to a woman, so long since the word relationship had crossed his mind. This was terrifying for Joel already, but factoring in the fact that you were married to another man made it so much worse. He knew you were unhappy with your husband but he didn't know your plans, he didn't know what you saw for yourself in the future. He didn’t know if you would leave your husband or stay married to him. Worst of all, he didn’t know if you thought about him, the way he thought about you. Joel could no longer ignore the rush he experienced when you were around. The dam inside him had broken and although vulnerability did not come easily to him, he was willing to be vulnerable for you, willing to be open for you. He was ready to expose his heart to you, rip it out of his chest and hold it up to you to show the speed at which it beat when you were around him. He needed to know that you felt the same. That you had to remind yourself to breathe when you saw him, just like he had to do when you looked his way. He needed to know if your heartbeat quickened when you saw him, if it synced with his when you caught eyes.

Joel had never known a woman like you, a woman so strong, intelligent, funny and witty. Joel had never had sex as good as he did with you and Joel had never felt such a wordless connection. He felt the connection immediately, when he looked around the bar that night and found you already looking at him, he felt compelled to approach you. He felt confident under your gaze, just like he felt dizzy underneath your touch, enchanted beneath your spell.

Joel cringed when his mind circled back to the conversation that was had in his bed, his nervous, thoughtless reaction that caused you to leave so quickly the next morning. Watching you leave like that, almost sprinting out of the house, had him reeling, searching his memories for something that would have caused it. He didn't have to backtrack for long, his short answer and haste kiss on the cheek was now engraved into his brain, his own voice taunting him whenever his mind was quiet. It had been so long since he felt this way that his first reaction was to sabotage himself, but he didn't want to do that anymore, he didn’t want to stand in his own way when he could have you.

After a good day at work on Thursday, you ran into a slight problem after arriving home. You had been relying on Marcus going to his weekly guys night on Friday, so you wouldn’t have to lie about your whereabouts. So, your surprise was evident when he’d asked, almost immediately after you’d walked through the door, “How about we have a night in tomorrow? Just the two of us.”

“I thought you were going to your guys night again?” The first half of your answer was genuine, at least, “I made plans with Carrie for tomorrow,” you lied through your teeth, “think we’re gonna’ have a pamper, self care sort of night. I’m sorry.” Although you really didn’t feel sorry at all. Was he really trying now? Trying to spend more time with you, trying to pay more attention to you again? As soon as you stopped showing signs of sadness at his lack of attention, love and time spent on you, he tried to suck you back in, but when you were upset and trying your hardest to make the marriage work, he was nowhere to be found.

“Guess I’ll go see the guys, then,” he huffed loudly, like a child unable to get their own way, and headed for the stairs. Halfway through the living room, he turned around, pointed towards the bouquet that Joel bought for you, and asked, “By the way, who got you those flowers?”. And fuck, you had completely forgotton that you decided to deal with the flowers later, not realising then that later would be almost a week later, with Marcus shooting daggers at you from across the room.

“Oh… I got them,” you began your lie, “for myself. Saw the florist after work on Friday and, I haven’t had flowers in the house in a while so,” you felt yourself starting to ramble so you cut yourself off with a shrug, your heart beating in your ears as you watched him walk away once again.

That night, when you went to bed, the door to the guest bedroom was closed, and you could see a sliver of light underneath the door. Walking into your bedroom, the bed was empty and completely untouched, confirming your suspicions that Marcus had decided to sleep in the spare bedroom. Months ago, this distance would have clutched tightly at your heart like a fist, your eyes would have welled with tears and you would feel only despair for the end of your marriage. But looking at the empty bed, there were no tears, only a dull ache at the thought of the last 12 years spent with Marcus. A dull ache that solidified that you no longer loved him, a dull ache that announced to you that maybe you were ready to leave him. A dull ache that symbolised your decision finally being made.

Going to sleep that night, you decided that you would talk to Marcus about a divorce as soon as you could, that you would look for your own home to move into, one that wasn’t already filled with your own memories, one that hadn't housed you in your unhappiness for so long. For the first time, you slept soundly that night, and awoke excited at the prospect of being alone, of building and focusing on your own life, rather than building your life around someone else’s.

In a shockingly good mood all throughout Friday, you weren’t surprised that you hadn’t seen Marcus all day, but you figured you would be able to talk to him about going your separate ways later on in the weekend, and instead, focused your efforts and excitement on getting ready to go to Joel’s. Opting for a comfortable outfit of denim shorts and a strappy tank top, you headed to Joel’s, nervous excitement brimming inside you. Parking in his driveway and knocking on his door had your heart almost slamming out of your chest, you thought of the last time you had been here, the way you had wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Faced with the prospect of seeing him again, being in his space, you couldn’t wait to walk through the door.

“Well don’t you look cute,” he smiled as he opened the door, moving to the side, gesturing for you to walk past him and inside the house. Taking a second to take him in, you noticed that his hair was wet, slicked back tidily at the front, but his curls were slowly forming at the back of his head, where his hair was drying quicker. He looked so handsome like this, you loved his hair when it was curly and unruly, but like this, you could see his whole face, completely unobstructed and fuck, he was beautiful.

“You look so handsome,” you said, still taking in his appearance, “did you just get out of the shower?” He wore grey sweatpants and a black, short sleeved t-shirt that was once again, impossibly tight around his shoulders and biceps. His big, broad frame would make any shirt look tight on him, as if it were fighting not to break, not to unravel under the pressure.

“Yeah, I did,” he answered while leading you into the living room, where the tv was playing something you couldn’t quite make out, “shame you missed it.” You were worried that you wouldn’t be able to escape the air of awkwardness, worried that the ending of your last meeting would dull the start of this one, but hearing his words and seeing his smirk reassured you that there would be no such thing.

“There’s always time for that,” you laughed as you sat on the sofa beside him and he quickly placed his arm on the back of the couch, allowing you to sink into him. “I was promised food,” you gave him a pointed look as you spoke, “what are you cooking?”

“About that,” he looked at you sheepishly and paused, a small smile on his face, “the more I thought about what to cook, the more nervous I got so I thought we could just order somethin’.” Your grin widened at his abashed expression, finding his words absolutely adorable, and leaned into kiss him, mumbling against his mouth that you had been craving pizza anyway. Joel hummed in approval against your mouth, leaned into the kiss before pulling away to get up and ordering the pizza. He rolled his eyes when you asked for a hawaiian, but relayed the order over the phone with no complaints.

“Said it’d be around 45 minutes, s’ a busy night,” he held your chin gently with his thumb and forefinger, turned your head to face him and softly slotted his lips with yours. His plump lips moved with yours in an easy, almost lazy rhythm as he opened your legs and moved to settle between them, allowing you to feel his already hard length. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him deeper into your embrace as he licked deeper into your mouth, you were so close, but you wanted more, you wanted him as close as possible.

“Joel,” you gasped as he started grinding his length into you, the denim of your shorts adding to the friction. His lips moved down to your neck, trailing kisses down your neck to your chest, pulling you top down to expose your breasts before landing his lips on your nipple, lapping his tongue around it and sucking it into his mouth as your breathing picked up, small gasps and whimpers being released from your mouth. “Joel please,” you looked down at him as he moved on to your other breast and repeated the actions, “touch me,” you begged.

“I am touching you, sweetheart,” you whined at his cocky response and moved your hips, grinding upwards to add friction where you needed it most. Joel looked at where you were desperately moving your hips and let out a chuckle, a chuckle that made you feel small and almost pathetic, but also made you all the more wet and needy for him. His hand trailed down your body, from your breast to the top of your denim shorts, dipping beneath the hem and circling your skin with a featherlight touch. “You want me down here, baby?” He asked as he undid the button of your shorts and started pushing them down, you instinctively lifted your hips so he could pull your shorts down completely, leaving you in your underwear, with your hard nipples exposed to Joel’s hungry gaze. Lifting your legs so that your thighs rested against your front, Joel directed your hands to the backs of your thighs and instructed, “Hold em’ right here f’me, baby,” before kneeling on the floor, positioning himself so that his face was level with your clothed pussy. Joel growled as he looked at the wet spot rapidly growing on your underwear, and you watched him with wide eyes as he ran his nose down your seam, from your clit to your hole and back up again and, to your complete surprise, unabashedly inhaling your scent. Your hands moved from holding your legs to holding your face, covering it in embarrassment, but Joel would let you do no such thing. He grabbed your elbows from his position below you and pulled them down. He moved your underwear to the side, licked a stripe up your pussy.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said before harshly sucking your clit into his mouth and stopping to speak again, “I love everything about this pussy, baby. The taste, the smell,” he said in a low growl, before beginning his attack on your centre. He alternated between licking and slurping passionately at your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking it into his mouth, and pushing his tongue inside you. You couldn’t keep your moans to yourself, your body was reacting to his touches loudly and openly, your moans loud and high pitched, while your legs shook every time Joel’s mouth wrapped around your clit.

“Joel,” you gasped, your voice shaky as your eyes fluttered shut, unable to keep them open as Joel continued his merciless attack. Your breath hitched and your eyes shot open when you felt a finger prodding at your entrance, before thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace. “Joel, please,” you said, louder this time, “I wanna come, Joel, please,” you continued in an unstable voice as you looked down at him. Joel didn’t answer with words, but with growls and groans of his own as he tasted you. His fingers curled at that spot guaranteed to make you scream, and his hand moved to your lower stomach, sprawled out adding pressure. You were hurtling towards your release, and recognised a feeling only Joel had pulled out of you before. “Joel stop I’m gonna make a mess,” you spoke quickly, the words coming out jumbled together as your breath quickened drastically.

“I want you to make a mess of my face, baby,” Joel said quickly before reattaching his mouth to you, pushing you further towards release, before speaking again, “give me what I want.”

His words made you give in immediately, no longer caring about making a mess, you gave in to Joel’s movements, your whines becoming more and more high pitched as he continued his movements. You couldn’t speak, only let out incoherent whines and pleas, before your mouth opened in a silent scream, the only sound leaving you was that of your breath hitching and the squelch of the wetness between your legs as it gushed out of you. Joel muttered, “good girl,” as you came down, your breath violently being pushed out of you as you watched him rise from his knees, the bottom half of his face soaked with your juices, as was his forearm. You bit your lip at the evidence of your orgasm that covered him, leaving a shine on his skin.

“I need you inside,” you whispered as he hovered above you, overcome with desire to be full of him. He quickly put on a condom and returned to his position.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered as he kissed your temple and leaned back to line himself up with your entrance. “Love watching you come for me,” he said as he pushed the tip inside, the last word of the sentence trailing off into a low groan as he felt your warmth enveloping him.

He pushed inside slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size, before wrapping his arms around your thighs and lifting them up, your feet in the air next to his head, leaving only your shoulders and upper back on the sofa. When he was happy with the position, he started thrusting all the way in and out of you quickly as he held you still by your legs, until the sound of your skin slapping could be heard throughout the room. A moan was forced out of your mouth with each thrust, your throat opening up to release a breath each time Joel filled you to the brim, he fucked you hard and fast while he let out grunts and groans of his own, inbetween strings of praise.

“This pussy feels so fuckin’ good,” he exhaled, and while his voice showed signs of fatigue, his body showed no signs of slowing down as he placed your back flat on the sofa and pushed your legs down so that your thighs rested against your stomach once again. This time, he didn’t instruct you to hold them, but held them down himself as he fucked you. The change in angle allowed him to push inside and reach deeper than before, knocking the wind out of you as he brushed the spot only he could reach. He watched as your eyes rolled back and fluttered closed, your mouth opening to let out loud whimpers and whines at how deep you felt him, and he whispered, “that’s it, baby,” before slowing down slightly, allowing you to feel every inch of him grinding into you. “This pussy takes me so fuckin’ good, you’re such a good girl.”

“So deep,” you replied breathlessly, his praise making your head spin. Joel’s hand suddenly settles at your neck, only applying slight pressure, pressure that, mixed with the fullness his cock gave, made you gasp in pleasure.

“I know it’s deep but you can take it, right?” he asked and you nodded your head erratically, as best as you could with his hand around your neck. “That’s right, my good girl takes it all.” You involuntarily clenched around him at his words, his smirk returning to his lips as he felt the effect that he had on you. “Touch your pretty little clit f’me,” he ordered, his voice breathy but still dominant, “make yourself come on my cock.”

You moved your hand down towards your centre and felt where your bodies met, where he was stretching you out like no one had done before, and surely like no one ever would again. Moving your fingers upwards towards your clit, you moved your fingers in tight, steady circles in an effort to make yourself come, wanting to do everything he asked of you, if it meant hearing even a morsel more of his praise. Your moans grew louder as you grew closer with each grind of Joel’s hips and each flick of your fingers. Between whines and gasps you tried to speak, “Joel, fuck, I’m gonna’,” but the words came out jumbled and broken, “Oh my God, you’re gonna make me,” you broke off in a high pitched moan, the noise accompanied by the squelching sound of your wetness gushing out of you as Joel kept thrusting hard, and he didn’t stop until he emptied into the condom with a low grunt and an extended fuuuuck.

Catching your breath, you watched as Joel ran to grab a cloth, still completely naked, and returned to gently clean you up. He put his boxers and sweats back on, but threw his shirt towards you, grumbling about how that would be comfier than, “those tight ass shorts,” before going to the kitchen. While he was gone, you got up to put your underwear back on and slipped his shirt over your head, feeling comfy and safe, enveloped in his clothes that still held his scent. Joel came back with a glass of water in his hand, “Just realised I didn’t even offer you a drink when you came in,” he placed the glass in your hand before sitting next to you and pulling you close.

“Your southern hospitality’s awful,” you giggled, “fucking me without even asking if I was thirsty?”

Joel opened his mouth to answer but was soon stopped by the doorbell ringing. “‘S probably the pizza,” he mumbled as he got up and walked to the door, paying the man and grabbing the pizza boxes in his hands before turning around and kicking the door closed. He settled next to you on the sofa again, placing the pizzas on the table and opening them up.

The tv was on, but you were hardly paying attention to what was playing, some re-run of an old show with an obnoxiously loud laughing track, you preferred to listen to Joel tell you about his week. He told you about his brother's mistakes that angered him to no end and the shock of his daughter asking him if he was seeing anyone.

“She asked you that?” He nodded at your question as he took a huge chunk out of his slice of pizza, chewing obnoxiously.

“Yeah,” he said, “she’s a little suspicious, I think Tommy might’ve mentioned something.”

“You talk to Tommy about me or something?” You asked teasingly, sitting back on the sofa and huffing at how full you felt.

He threw his last crust onto the pizza box, chewing his last bite before answering, “Had to explain why I kept checkin’ my phone somehow.” He sent you a wink as he spoke, smiling at you as you yawned and quickly tried to cover your mouth with your hand.

“You tired?”

“No,” you said sheepishly.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed,” he held your hand and began tugging you up off the sofa.

“I don’t want to sleep yet,” you whined, not wanting the night to end so quickly.

“We can just relax in bed for a while, baby,” he tugged you towards the stairs, gesturing for you to walk up first. He gave your ass a couple light slaps as you walked up, earning giggles from you. You brushed your teeth side by side, stealing glances at each other in the mirror and Joel left for the bedroom while you used the toilet.

Crawling into bed beside Joel, you inched closer towards him and found comfort in his outstretched arms. You lay facing each other, one of his arms resting underneath your body, allowing you to be as close as you could. He held you with a gentle grip, his big hands were outstretched, one spread across your back underneath his shirt and the other rested on your bicep. His hands were momentarily still, allowing you to feel the warmth of his hands, the heat being transferred from Joel’s body to yours through his soft touch. He continued to look at you as he started moving his hands, his fingers gently moving along your skin, as though he was connecting constellations in the stars. Your eyes followed his fingers carefully, your eyes traced their every move, just as the tips of his fingers traced every curve of your body, every bump or scar on your skin. And under the trace of his fingers, under the gaze of his eyes you felt truly seen. Has anybody seen you the way he saw you then? His gaze was heavy, his stare intense, but you didn’t shy away from his eyes, you didn’t flinch from his featherlight touch, you returned his stare and you returned his caress. Your fingers started moving along the skin of his arms, along the lines in his face, as if off their own accord. You subjected him to the same heavy, all consuming gaze as you looked into his eyes. You subjected him to the same featherlight, earnest touch as you ran your hands down his back, his sides, his arms, his face, anywhere you could reach. Because in that moment you saw him and he saw you.

You moved your hand up to Joel’s now dishevelled hair and ran your hand through it but Joel was quick to stop your endeavour. He grasped your wrist in his hand and turned it around, so that your palm was facing you. You watched as he looked at your hand with a furrowed brow. You couldn’t understand why your hand had captivated him so intensely until his other hand came up to join yours in front of his face, and he traced your wedding band with his thumb.You opened your mouth to speak but no words left your throat, and Joel’s words lingered in the air instead.

“Take the ring off.” He was now looking at you rather than at your ring, his eyes bored into yours as a shocked expression overtook your features. “Please,” he added, almost desperately, his voice nothing more than a whimper. “Just for tonight, I wanna’ pretend you're not his, that you’re mine.”

His confession almost broke you. You had struggled while coming to grips with your feelings but hadn’t thought about how Joel must feel, seeing a married woman, sleeping with a married woman, knowing that she was going home to her husband eventually. You carefully slid your wedding ring off your finger and moved from the bed to place it in your bag. When you climbed back into bed, you placed your left hand, now lacking your wedding ring, onto his cheek and, looking into his eyes, told Joel what you wished was true, “I’m yours, Joel.”

Joel’s lips met yours in a tender kiss, and when they departed, Joel spoke into your mouth, “I’m yours too,” his words left his lips, travelled down your throat and into your body, and devastated you from the inside out, “I’ll still be yours when you go back to him.”

You couldn’t speak, no helpful words came to your mind as you looked into Joel’s eyes. They looked into yours with a sad longing, one that you were sure was reflected in your own eyes. Unable to conjure up the words, you put your lips to his and kissed him deeply, pushing all the words you couldn't say into his mouth, willing him to understand you through your touch. His palm came to rest at the back of your neck, softly keeping you in place as he kissed you back, his tongue licking into your mouth as his other hand went to your lower back and pulled you closer towards him until your front was flush with his. His mouth left yours and placed kisses down your neck while his hands went to the ends of the shirt you were wearing, pulling it up and over your head. You did the same to him, wanting to feel his skin on yours, with nothing between your bodies.

He went to position himself further down the bed, further down your body and slowly spread your legs, but the sudden feeling of emptiness that dominated you made your arms lower to his, and your hands pulled at him to bring his face to yours again. The emptiness could be felt throughout your body, and you knew it would only be satisfied by Joel filling you up. “I just want you inside,” you whispered when his face was level with yours again.

“At least let me open you up first,” he said with furrowed brows, not wanting to hurt you, but pain was the last thing on your mind at that moment. You just wanted him. You wanted to feel him everywhere.

“Please,” you asked, “I need it.” He said nothing in response, only reached over your body to get into the bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. Your disappointment was evident in your face, and you let out a quiet, “no,” that was barely above a whisper. He turned his head to look at you and raised an eyebrow.

“I want to feel you, Joel,” you said, your voice still quiet, “all of you.” Suddenly worried about his response, you added, “I’m clean, I got checked last time I was at the gynaecologist.” You took a deep breath before continuing. “I haven’t been with… him since then.” Your voice was timid and nervous, unsure how to explain that it had been weeks, months even, since you had slept with your husband. You were anxious to bring him up in such a conversation, unable to say his name, you knew he would know exactly who you were talking about.

He grimaced at your words, at the mention of your husband, but quickly hid his distaste, “I got tested after the last person I slept with, I’m clean too” his soft voice matched your quiet words as he placed the condom back in the drawer and pulled you close again. “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for any aversion, any discomfort, but only found a pleading want as you nodded your head and whispered a yes.

He positioned himself in between your legs and kissed you softly while running his fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness onto his hand, circling your clit teasingly once, and spreading your juices onto his cock. His lips didn’t leave yours as he positioned his tip at your entrance and pushed himself inside you, moving inch by inch, creating a delicious burn as he stretched you out and filled you to the brim.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,”

You wrapped your legs around him in an attempt to pull him closer, although it felt impossible. He stayed fully seated inside of you, completely enveloped by your warmth as you both let out gasps and groans at the feeling. When Joel started moving, it was a slow, steady grind. Barely a movement, but enough to cause a delicious friction for both of you. You let out high pitched gasps of his name and he released grunts of yours. Your back arched as his tip kissed that spot so deep inside of you and his arms moved smoothly under your body, wrapping around you and holding you tight. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers running through his hair and pulling as he pushed heavy breaths out of your lungs.

In a messy, close tangling of limbs that was both greedy and unhurried, needy but not rushed, you felt him deep inside of you. You felt his whole length inside of you as he ground further into you, barely leaving the warmth of your cunt, only wanting to feel close to you, not wanting the separation that came with a full thrust.

“Joel,” you gasped, “Joel, please,” your mouth started to babble, the words involuntarily leaving you as he grunted in your ear, the sounds only heightening your wetness, your pussy clenching around his cock each time you heard him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He asked with a hard grind of his hips, pushing impossibly deeper inside.

“I want you to fill me up, Joel,” you begged, your voice cracking with need.

“You’re already full o’me, baby,” he chuckled into your ear, taking your earlobe in between his teeth, licking and nibbling while continuing the rhythmic grind of his hips.

“No, Joel,” you were cut off by a loud moan leaving your throat as his hand slipped between your bodies to your clit, his fingers moving in tight, unfaltering circles to match the press of his hips. “I want you to come inside me.”

Joel groaned loudly as soon as the words reached his ears, gasping your name in equal parts shock and contentment. He pulled his head back to look into your eyes, his eyebrows raised in a wordless question.

“I have an IUD,” you said while pressing your hands into his lower back, wanting him, needing him deeper. His fingers moved quicker on your clit as he groaned at your admission, his hips faltering slightly.

“Such a fuckin’ good girl for me,” he grunted out, “lettin’ me stuff you full.” You moaned at his words and clamped down around his cock. The steady grind of his hips had now faltered and he was thrusting in and out of you slowly, but he was just as deep as before. This change in movement caused his tip to brush that spot over and over, in a quick procession. This, mixed with his words and grunts in your ear and his finger running firm circles on your clit made you come completely unannounced. It hit you like a wall and there was nothing you could say, you came with your mouth open in a silent scream, your walls clamped around his cock and fluttered gratefully. Your chest moved up and down with heavy breaths as Joel continued to fuck into you, pushing so deep inside and moaning your praise.

“That’s my good girl, fuck,” his grunts were becoming louder, deeper as he hurtled toward his orgasm, his hips stammering the closer he got. “Tell me you’re mine,” he said, his voice a mix between a plea and a command. “Fuckin tell me you’re mine,” he repeated, louder than before.

“I’m yours, Joel,” you said through moans, he was fucking you hard and deep, messy and hurried. “I’m yours,” you repeated once more before pleading, “come inside me, Joel.”

He let out a low growl at your words, and pushed himself deep, so that he was fully seated inside you, and let go, coming inside of you before pulling out to watch his spend trickle out of you, pushing it back in with his fingers before it could go far.

Exhausted, you lay down and closed your eyes, feeling the absence of his presence for a moment, until he returned to clean you up and got into bed beside you. You had read and read but never understood the feeling expressed in Jane Eyre of feeling so close to a lover, of being bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh. You had certainly never felt that close to Marcus. But in that moment, lying there with Joel, with your wedding ring thrown to the side and forgotten, your skin connected to his, your legs tangled together, as if you had tied yourselves to one another in an effort to keep each other near, you felt it, you understood.

The last thing you remembered before falling completely asleep was Joel placing a soft kiss on your temple.

You woke to an empty bed the next morning, the sheets crumpled and still warm to the touch on Joel’s side. Getting out of bed, you put on Joel’s shirt again and brushed your teeth in the bathroom before walking towards the stairs. At the top of the stairs you were met with the sight of Joel walking up, with a cup of coffee in each hand.

“Go back to bed,” his soft command was met with a look of confusion from you. “My plan was to wake you up with coffee in bed,” he explained, “so go back to bed.” You giggled at his thoughtfulness and upon hearing Joel’s quiet, “please,” turned around and walked back to the bedroom, settling into bed once more. You listened to the patter of his footsteps up the stairs and towards the room and the sexy gruff of his voice wishing you a “Mornin’, darlin’,” as he walked in, as if he hadn’t already seen you that morning.

He placed a cup of coffee in your outstretched hands and sat in bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your forehead.

“Thank you, Joel,” you whispered, smiling up at him, leaning up and pressing your lips against his. Last night was still at the forefront of your mind and you were overcome with emotions you couldn’t quite explain.

“Listen,” Joel began, “I meant what I said last night,” his words came at exactly the right time.

“I want you,” he explained, “and not just like this, I want all of you. But I need to know what your plans are, I need to know I’m not getting invested for nothing.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “You might be mine for now but when you go home to him, I still belong to you. So I just, I need to know.”

“I’m not staying with him Joel. It’s just, it's a big thing, a long process.” You wished you could give him more reassurance, but you weren’t sure what you could say that would put his mind at ease. You looked into his eyes and said, “I want you, not him.”

Joel’s hand came up to your cheek, lightly stroking the skin next to your ear with his thumb, “I don't want to put pressure on you, I just need to know that this is going somewhere.”

“It is,” you promised, “I’ll talk to him.” You pressed a kiss to his lips, as if you were sealing a promise, and felt nothing but happiness and safety.

The rest of the morning passed in pure domestic bliss, Joel cooked breakfast and you both drank another coffee while you talked over the show that was on tv. When it was time for you to leave, you reluctantly got dressed and gathered your things and climbed into the car, rolling the window down. Joel stood next to the window and leaned in to kiss you goodbye. Unable to leave yet, the goodbye kiss turned into an I don’t want to go kiss, full of uncertainty and words you wanted to say but couldn’t quite articulate. Pulling away you settled on a meek, “bye,” while Joel promised to call you soon. Joel watched and waved as you reversed out of his driveway and drove away, both of your minds full of possibilities for the future.

Your drive home was uneventful. You felt positive and excited, you were finally clear on your plans. You knew that you had to speak to Marcus about your marriage, suggest a separation and request a divorce and although you knew this would be difficult, your happiness was worth it, with or without Joel in the picture. You expected to arrive back to an empty house, like you normally did. What you didn’t expect to see was Marcus sitting at the dining table, facing the door, as if he was waiting for your return.

With shock evident in your voice, you let out a weak, “Hi,” but upon noticing the expression on his face you added, “are you ok, Marcus?” He looked disappointed, his hand held the bottom of his face and his brows were furrowed together.

“Where were you last night?” His question threw you off, and you scrambled to answer.

“I was at Carrie-”

“I know you weren’t at Carrie’s so I’ll ask one more time,” his voice was raised and firm, “where were you last night?” He spoke slowly, the anger he felt slowing down his speech. You knew then that the expression on his face wasn’t disappointment, it was anger, fury. You felt frozen on the spot, your mouth sewed shut with shock, you didn’t move or speak, only looked down at your feet, nervously bringing your hands together and fiddling with your thumbs.

Your heart jumped at the next words from Marcus, his booming voice only adding to the thumping acceleration of your heart.

“Why aren’t you wearing your ring?”

Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) Part 4 soon

Taglist - @untamedheart81 @smol-beb @harriedandharassed @southernbe

@urfknlame @sheepdogchick3 @csarab615 @janellesbody @anoverwhelmingdin @milly-louise@joeldjarin@mumma-moonchild@faith-alons26

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phoenixyfriend · 2 months

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VP Kamala Harris is calling for immediate ceasefire in Gaza

I was alerted to this by the BBC Global News podcast. AP News has a full article on the speech itself, which was not held about Israel and Palestine, but was rather focused on domestic issues of race equality, as the speech was given in Selma, Alabama, on the anniversary of Bloody Sunday (a 1965 Civil Rights march that ended in police violence). There is also a Reuters article if you prefer those.

Despite VP Harris's incredible dedication to the topic of combating anti-black racism in the US and position as a figurehead and spokeswoman for many in that regard, she did find time in her speech for the following:

THINGS OF NOTE:

Harris is still, technically, holding to the party line on the topic of 'Israel has a right to defend itself.' At this point, I'm sure we've all seen enough arguments on whether or not that right is something Israel actually has, given its violations of the international laws of occupation, but it does read to me as more lip service than actual sincerity at this point.

Harris puts the onus of agreeing to a ceasefire on Hamas, rather than Israel. Given Netanyahu's months of explicit refusal to consider a ceasefire unless Hamas is completely and utterly destroyed (and with them, Gaza), this is... not great. Not great. She said, "Hamas claims it wants a ceasefire. Well, there is a deal on the table. And as we have said, Hamas needs to agree to that deal. Let’s get a ceasefire. Let’s reunite the hostages with their families. And let’s provide immediate relief to the people of Gaza."

The 'immediate ceasefire' is still just the 6-week pause that Biden has been talking about, rather than a permanent one.

The speech included "The Israeli government must do more to significantly increase the flow of aid. No excuses." This statement is interesting to look at in light of the US recently hitting a watershed moment and beginning airdrops of relief aid, something so inefficient that they were reluctant to engage with it until given no other choice. The preference was trucks, which are more efficient in terms of quantity, fuel usage, risk of damage from wind blowing things off course, etc. The 'no other choice' is in regards to whether or not the trucks could still get in, not in regards to international or domestic pressure, though that was likely a factor as well.

We got what I believe are some of the harshest and most direct criticisms of Israel's actions so far: "What we are seeing every day in Gaza is devastating. We have seen reports of families eating leaves or animal feed. Women giving birth to malnourished babies with little or no medical care, and children dying from malnutrition and dehydration. Our hearts break for the victims of that horrific tragedy and for all the innocent people in Gaza who are suffering from what is clearly a humanitarian catastrophe. People in Gaza are starving. The conditions are inhumane."

These comments are receiving international coverage, though I'm a bit concerned by how... blase and unconcerned Israeli media seems to be, though since this particular journal (Times of Israel) claims to be non-partisan, maybe that's why? That said, Al Jazeera is also calling it a 'rare rebuke,' which I would guess is a good sign for the shifting of DC's position on the subject when combined with the recent aid drops.

As usual, I am not a political expert, I just like to gather and share information; please go to actual experts when trying to understand what politicians' actions mean. I do, however, want you to call your reps. Here's a guide on how to do it.

To support my blogging so I can move out of my parents' house, I do have a ko-fi. Alternately, you can donate to one of the charities I list in this post.

#gaza #united states #israel #palestine #call your reps #kamala harris #bloody sunday #current events #phoenix politics #death mention #child death mention

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film-in-my-soul · 1 month

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It's a Date

Fandom: Top Gun

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky/Pete “Maverick” Mitchell

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,236

Summary: In hindsight, it was dumb, utterly stupid, and completely unfounded, but there had been a passing thought through Ice's head when he'd agreed. That, perhaps, the same bugs of attraction had crawled under Maverick's skin like they'd done his own.

It doesn’t help in the slightest that Maverick, the idiot he is, winks and throws out a blase “It’s a date!” over his shoulder.

Or: The 5 times Maverick says it's a date when it's not, and The 1 time he doesn't, and it is.

Written for the @topgunzine

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#icemav #iceman/maverick #iceman x maverick #top gun 1986 #tg #top gun fic

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lets-just-daydream · 5 months

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I Loved You First - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Chapter 3: It's Not That Simple

The days at Szarr Palace ticked by as more staff hurried around the place preparing for the big party. Even when you had left the grounds to wander the shops in the city it seemed that all anyone could talk about was the big party that Cazador Szarr was throwing. Anyone who was anyone was invited and expected to be in attendance. Even politicians which the thought of utterly terrified you. You knew Cazador was an important and well-known figure in the city but admittedly, you hadn’t realised how important and influential he was. Now you truly understood why your parents were so eager for you to marry him.

You’d be living in the lap of luxury by the side of one of the most important men in the city. The thought should fill you with hope and excitement, any lady would probably kill to be in your position but you just didn’t feel the excitement. Perhaps you were doomed to a marriage with a man you hardly knew and didn’t really like. You certainly wouldn’t be the first and you wouldn’t be the last. At least he had the assets to ensure more than just your comfort.

Another thing on your mind was Astarion. You had grown accustomed to seeing him and even dared to hope he’d be in your path as you wandered through the palace. But no such luck. You hadn’t seen him in days. It was the night before the party and as you prepared for a bath, someone knocked on your door. You approached and cracked it open to see Violet standing there.

“Good evening, my lady,” she greeted. “You rang for a bath?”

“I did,” you said, stepping aside to let her in. “If you could teach me how to fill the bath, I wouldn’t have to ring for you, you know.”

Violet let out an airy chuckle as she fiddled around in the bathroom. “Please, I have no qualms about coming to your call. And Mas- Lord Cazador would not appreciate his future wife doing so.”

You gulped at her blase title for you. “H-His future wife?”

Sure you knew he might propose to you but the casual nature in which she spoke… Had Cazador already made up his mind? Your heart rate increased and as if she had known, Violet approached and sat you down on the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright? I didn’t mean to upset you, my lady,” she said, panicking slightly.

“No, no,” you comforted her. “You haven’t done anything of the sort I just… Well the idea of getting married is a little scary,” you explained, omitting some of the truth. “And I wasn’t entirely sure of Lord Cazador’s intentions, yet.”

Violet nodded in understanding. “I’m not sure of his intentions, either. I’m just a bit of a romantic and I do love weddings, so I’m hoping for the best,” she said with a sincere smile.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from your lips. “I’m a bit of a romantic, too,” you confessed. You reached across to the nightstand and picked up the book you’d meant to continue reading. “I’ve picked a romance book from the library and I hope to finish it soon.”

Violet nodded and stepped away to continue getting your bath ready. As she did so, you turned the book in your hands and recalled Astarion showing you to the library and your heart sank slightly.

“Violet?” You asked, putting the book down and stepping to the bathroom. “I haven’t seen Astarion around the past few days.”

You watched as Violet paused for a moment, her long ears twitching before she finished the bath and stood to face you.

“Is he… alright?” You asked, hesitating. Violet bit her lip and looked anywhere but at you, and in her hesitation you began to worry. “Violet?”

She cleared her throat and she opened her mouth to speak before clamping shut again. “I’m so sorry, I have work to attend to.”

Violet brushed past you without another word and closed the door as she departed. You stared at the closed door with furrowed brows and bit your lip. Well now you were truly worried after the pale elf, you hadn’t seen him in days and Violet’s reaction to your question began a storm in your mind. You wondered where he was, if he was okay and if he needed help. Maybe Cazador had fired him and now he was homeless and destitute. You stepped into the bath as you continued worrying. You would ask Cazador tomorrow if he knew where Astarion was and maybe he could put your mind at ease.

As much as you didn’t love Cazador’s company, he was still very kind to you and made countless accommodations for you. You’d mentioned one of your favourite foods and it was suddenly featured in every night’s dinner. You had offhandedly mentioned your neck was sore and an assortment of new pillows were on your bed the next day for you to try. He had even started serving breakfast a little later in the morning since he noticed you slept in a little in the mornings.

“A woman after my own heart,” he had said. “I’m also a late riser.” He had then given you a genuine smile and you couldn’t help but notice his sharp canines when he bared his teeth. You recalled noticing Astation’s sharp teeth as well and only offered him a smile in return, your thoughts turning non-stop even till now.

You had noticed these small oddities but you didn’t know what they meant. Cazador didn’t seem like he was running a cult, he was too high-profile for that. But you couldn’t figure it out. Maybe he was just a strange man with particular tastes. You supposed that if you did end up marrying him, he would eventually feel comfortable enough around you to open up.

You finished your bath and dried off, opening your closet to find your sleep clothes. You saw your dress for the party hung up and your stomach churned. In all the weird happenings and wondering where Astarion was, you’d almost forgotten about the party tomorrow evening. You grimaced as you dressed for bed, certainly not ready and not looking forward to what tomorrow would bring.

You awoke the following morning with a yawn and stretch. You heard the pitter patter of rain on the window and you leapt out of bed to open the curtains. It certainly looked dreary outside with not a sliver of sun to be seen. Gods, this was perfect weather to read but you knew you’d be spending the day preparing for the party tonight. You dressed in a day dress and left the room to join everyone for breakfast. The halls were aflutter with activity and chatter as flowers were placed, silverware was polished and cleaning done. It seemed even the servants were looking forward to the party which brought a smile to your face. You entered the dining room and were surprised to see the curtains all open, the rain streaked windows displaying the wet weather outside.

“Good morning, darling,” your father greeted.

“Morning,” you said cheerily.

Cazador stood and nodded his head to you. “Good morning, you seem to be in cheery spirits this morning.”

You blushed slightly. “I guess the atmosphere of everyone preparing for this evening is a little contagious.”

Your mother sat up straight and looked at you. “You’re looking forward to the party? Oh, how perfect.”

You glanced back at Cazador and offered a shy smile and a small shrug which caused him to chuckle slightly. He pulled your seat out for you as he always did and you began eating, a servant coming and filling your glass with juice.

“Thank you,” you turned and said when you gasped and saw Astarion beside you. “Astarion!”

The pale elf froze and looked shocked. As did your parents and Cazador, the latter squinting at you and staring at Astarion unbeknownst to you. You nearly gasped again when you saw his skin looked slightly bruised and sallow.

“Where have you been? You don't… look too well. Are you alright?”

Astarion stood stock-still as his eyes flicked quickly to Cazador. He looked slightly fearful, panicked almost.

Cazador cleared his throat beside you. “He’s been outside the city gathering some things for tonight. And you know how rowdy taverns in the outskirts in the city can be. What kind of man doesn’t get into a fist-fight here and there?”

Your father grunted his gruff approval at this and continued eating.

You turned to Cazador who was staring intently at Astarion with a very unpleasant expression on his face. You pressed your lips together and looked down at your lap. You suddenly recalled the conversation when Astarion pulled you aside and said your questions were dangerous and to stop worrying about him. Now you feared you had got him into trouble.

“I see,” you simply said, trying to diffuse the tension. “A-anyway, I am looking forward to the party tonight, my lord.”

Cazador’s expression forcibly softened as he turned his attention to you. “I’m very glad to hear it. In fact, I wondered if you might join me for a walk in the garden after breakfast.”

You glanced at the windows to the rainy weather. “Um, alright,” you hesitated.

“Not to worry, I have parasols to shield us from the elements,” Cazador smiled.

You let out a small laugh. Whether it was a nervous laugh or a genuine one, you weren’t sure. “Alright.”

You finished eating, noting that Cazador had hardly touched his plate just like every meal he ever joined you for. He stood and offered you his arm which you took as he led you outside, parasol in hand.

“Do you not have much of an appetite, my lord?” You asked as you stepped outside.

Cazador looked at you with a raised brow.

“I only ask since I noticed you don’t eat much or at all when we sit for our meals,” you continued.

“You sweet little thing,” he complimented. “I don’t usually eat much at meal times since I tend to eat when I’m busy with my work. The servants bring me plenty of meals, so don’t you worry.

You nodded as you continued your walk together, the parasol doing a good job to keep you dry.

“It’s nice that we’re out for a walk,” you began. “But forgive me, my lord, why are we out when it’s raining.”

Cazador smiled. “Well with the party tonight, I finally have some time for leisure as I’ve put my work aside for the day. To spend it with you.”

Your cheeks flushed and you said nothing.

“I do apologise for being so absent. My work is… quite taxing and as much as I would love to lavish you with attention all day, I have many important tasks on my plate.”

“I understand,” you said. “You’re a busy and important man. I don’t hold it against you, my lord.”

Cazador stopped and took your free hand in his, raising it to his lips and brushing his lips against your skin. “I love how understanding you are, dear angel.”

Your heart stuttered at the term of endearment. “Of course, my lord.”

He certainly was busy with his work and didn’t give you his attention at all hours of the day but he had his romantic moments when he did give you his attention. If he showered you with enough affection you might eventually grow to like him. But that thought put a damper on your spirits because it wasn’t Cazador’s affections you sought.

You completed your walk and he bowed slightly. Unnecessary given his standing but a gesture nonetheless that didn’t go unnoticed by you or your parents who had been waiting for you to come back and tell them everything about your little turn about the garden.

Your mother practically squealed like a schoolgirl in love when you explained what had happened between you and Cazador. She turned to your father. “Oh, darling I’m certain he’ll propose by next week’s end.” “That soon?” You gasped.

“Marriages have happened quicker than that, especially in noble families,” your father said.

“But…” You lowered your voice. “What if I don’t want to marry him?”

Your mother rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “For heaven’s sake child, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. This is your duty, whether you like it, whether you don’t like it, I don’t care. You’re not even trying to like Lord Cazador. He may very well propose to you and you will say yes.”

You scoffed and looked to your father for assistance but he just nodded in agreement with your mother. “Are you both serious? I don’t like it here! I have a bad feeling about Lord Cazador and I’m not sure why but please don’t make me marry him!”

Your mother raised her hand at your insolence but your father caught her hand before it could make contact with your cheek. She looked at him, rage in her eyes and he just shook his head slowly. He then glanced at the staircase and you all turned to see Astarion standing on the top landing of the stairs.

“M-my apologies, I heard yelling and came to see if everything was alright,” he explained quickly.

“Everything’s fine ,” you huffed, taking the opportunity to step away from your parents and ascend the stairs.

You walked past Astarion and heard him barely whisper. “Are you alright?”

You stopped for a moment, glaring back at your parents but continuing to your room without another word to anyone as tears welled in your eyes. You made it to your room and slammed the door behind you, sinking to the floor as your tears now ran freely while you sobbed. You truly thought if you had just come along, played nicely and behaved, that maybe your parents wouldn’t make you do this. But now it seemed your fate was sealed and there was nothing you could do.

You sobbed into your hands as a gentle knock pattered at the door. “Go away,” you sniffled.

“Sorry,” Astarion’s voice came through the door.

You froze and wiped the tears away quickly and stood, flinging the door open. You met his red eyes and slightly battered face and he gazed at you with concern, his white brows knitting with worry.

“Sorry, I thought you might have been my parents,” you said, retreating back into your room and slumping on the floor against the bed.

Astarion stepped inside and sat beside you, resting his hand on your knee. “Are you alright? I heard some of the conversation with your parents,” Astarion confessed.

You leaned your head back against the bed and looked up. “How much of it did you hear?”

Astarion looked at your stretched neck and gulped before averting his gaze to the carpet. “You don’t want to marry him,” Astarion said quietly.

You sighed and your eyes slipped closed. “Are you going to tell him?” You asked dully.

“No,” Astarion whispered.

Your eyes flew open and you looked at him. “Why not?”

The pale elf shrugged. “I don’t want to speak out of turn. But know that your secret is safe with me.”

You gave him a small smile that barely lifted the corners of your lips. “Thank you.”

Astarion nodded and returned the smile, rubbing his thumb on your clothed knee to comfort you. “I hope tonight’s party will lift your spirits.” You focused on the sensation of Astarion’s hand on your knee and you sighed. You would much prefer to sit here in your room with him all night instead of attending this party. You wanted to know what happened to him, wanted to know why everyone was so cagey around Cazador and what he was really like when he didn’t have guests to impress.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked.

Astarion did a sharp intake of breath and bit his lip. “I-” “You can be honest with me!” You added quickly.

“Darling, I-” Astarion said before quickly stopping himself. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He stood and slicked his white curly hair back before turning away and leaving.

You stared at the door where he just left, your breathing slightly faster than usual. You held in the small squeak that threatened to leave your lips at the pet name he had called you. Did Astarion perhaps also feel even an inkling of something towards you? You shook the thought from your head. He was just being nice, you were very upset after all, and it seemed Cazador was also loose-tongued with his pet names for you. You leaned back and stared up at the ceiling as you thought about Astarion. His gorgeous curly hair and his strange red eyes that everyone who lived here seemed to share. You laughed as you wondered if your eyes would turn red after living here long enough. As your mind wandered, your eyes slipped shut and you dozed off, your mind still on the pale elf whose soft thumb you could swear you still felt on your knee.

You were shaken awake by a soft feminine voice coaxing you from your sleep. “My lady, please wake up.” You opened your eyes to see Violet sitting in front of you, her hand on your arm as she gently shook it.

You blinked and noticed that while it was still cloudy and rainy, it was darker in here than when you had fallen asleep.

“Ah, you’re awake. I do hate to rush you but guests will be arriving in an hour and I thought you might like some help getting ready,” Violet said as she stood and made her way to your closet and opened it up to find the dress you’d be wearing tonight.

You stood and rubbed your eyes, shutting the door to your room before you started undressing. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Violet smiled as she pulled the dress out.

You stepped out of your day dress and into the dress Violet held out for you. She did up the corset and stepped back as you turned to face her. “You look gorgeous, my lady.”

You turned to look into the mirror as Violet quickly stepped away and out of view. “I suppose it does look rather nice,” you said with a smile. “Would you mind helping me do my hair? Please? I’d like to have it up.”

Violet nodded and stepped forward to style your hair for you, pulling the seat away from your dresser and closer to the sconce nearby for “better lighting” as she put it. She made quick work of your hair with seemingly practiced hands after brushing, inserting pins and using a heated rod to curl some parts of it. She finally stepped aside and you moved to examine yourself in the mirror, beaming at how it was all coming together.

“Now for the necklace…” You murmured to yourself as you opened the package and slipped it onto your clavicle and clasped it shut. “How do I look?”

Violet nodded with a smile, long canines peeking out from beneath her lip which caused you to pause. “Gorgeous, my lady. Do you need anything else?”

“No…” You said slowly as she turned and left the room.

There was something strange about this whole place for certain and you were going to find out what. Perhaps you'd need to get Astarion and Violet to open up to you a bit more and find out the truth. Especially if you were going to be married to the lord of this palace.

You shuddered at the thought and slipped on your shoes before stepping out of your room. As you descended the hallway towards the main area of the house, you could already hear jovial chatter, tasteful music lilting through the air and smell the mix of perfumes, food and flowing drink.

You approached the top of the stairs and the chatter hushed slightly as people stopped to look at you. You froze under their sudden attention and your eyes darted around until they landed on Astarion's familiar face, an unreadable expression on it as he gazed at you. He was dressed in a red tunic with gold threading and while you were certain his clothes weren't as expensive as Cazador's, he looked amazing. His hair perfectly curled and framing his face as usual. A clearing of someone's throat caught your attention and you finally landed on Cazador who approached the bottom landing of the stairs, one of his arms stretched out to you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies,” he said smoothly with practiced ease. “May I please present tonight's guest of honour and lovely guest to my and my home.”

He introduced you and you nodded slightly with a nervous smile as the party guests clapped while you descended the stairs. You slipped your hand into his and he pressed a cold kiss to it, meeting your eye before his gaze slipped to your neck. You pressed your lips together and looked away, spying your parents nearby with satisfied smiles on their faces.

You stepped away from Cazador with a polite smile and made your way through the crowd towards one of the newer staff who walked around with goblets of drink in a tray. However you were stopped by lords and ladies alike, introducing themselves to you. You simply smiled, nodded, offered your hand to the gentlemen when needed and mirrored the curtseys from the ladies until you finally broke through and made it to the servant whose tray was now empty.

You let out a frustrated huff before someone tapped you on the shoulder. You rolled your eyes internally, preparing for another introduction when you turned around to see Astarion with a goblet in hand, offering it to you.

“Am I glad to see you,” you said with a laugh.

“Are you talking to me or the drink?” Astarion asked with a smirk.

“You,” you answered far too quickly. You quickly raised the goblet to your lips before you could say anything else entirely stupid. “There are a lot more people here than I ever anticipated.”

Astarion nodded, his eyes not leaving you. “Lord Cazador hosts lavish parties to the elite of the city and beyond. And there are a lot of elite. Though do mind who you talk to, some of them are less than savoury.”

Your eyes widened at this. “What do you mean?”

Astarion furrowed his brow and one of his pointy ears twitched. “My apologies, I've spoken out of turn.”

Before you could get another word in he turned on his heel and retreated back into the throng of people.

“Good evening, my lady,” a new voice said from beside you. “Gale of Waterdeep. A pleasure to meet you. May I have this dance?”

You looked to the dancefloor with couples scattered about and looked back at the man before you, his eyes twinkling with warmth. Not something you had ever detected in Cazador now that you thought of it. You nodded and took his offered hand as he led you to the middle of the dancefloor.

Through a couple of dances you learned he was a wizard from a known family who was sent in place of his mother. You weren't terribly interested in his story and as you danced, you couldn't help but scan the edges of the room for a certain white-haired elf.

You managed to spot him a few times and when you did, he was already looking at you. You turned away, blushing every time.

“I thought you were here to marry Lord Cazador,” Gale said matter-of-factly.

“I am,” you answered far too quickly. “M-maybe, if he chooses so.”

“Hm,” Gale hummed.

The song ended and he let you go with a bow. Before anyone else could pull you aside or a dance or a drink, you beelined for the balcony, opened the door and slipped through quietly. After what seemed like hours of mingling and chatting you truly needed a break of fresh air from the crowd of people and the constant attention.

You leaned against the railing and let out a sigh, looking across at the water soaked gardens from the rain earlier. You dropped your head and wondered if this was what the rest of your life might be like. Married to Cazador, overwhelming parties and rubbing elbows with people like this. You hated the thought of it.

The sound of the door opening behind you caused you to freeze and let out an agitated sigh. At least you got a moment of reprieve. You turned around with a painted on smile and faltered when you saw Astarion standing in front of the now closed door.

“Astarion,” you breathed. “Sorry I just needed a moment away from… all that.”

“I understand,” he said as he approached the railing and leaned against it next to you.

You looked at him and noticed how he looked an angelic vision in the moonlight. His pale skin looked like it was glowing and his lightened hair made a halo around his head, and his red eyes looked like rubies in place.

“Does Cazador do many of these?” You asked, clearing your throat and looking away.

Astarion nodded, offering you a sympathetic look.

“Great,” you sighed. “Do you…”

You inhaled as you hesitated. You had to know where you stood, if there was still a chance that you could be going home.

“Do you know how he feels… about me?” You asked.

Astarion stiffened and turned to face you fully now, a cool hand coming up to cup your cheek. He softly rubbed your skin with his thumb. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… I think he intends to propose.”

Your eyes slid shut and your brows furrowed as your heart stuttered. You bit your lip and tried to quell your emotions but it was futile, as soon as the tears welled they fell and streaked down your cheeks.

“My lady…” Astarion whispered, wiping the tears away.

You looked up at him through your wet lashes, gripping onto his arm and squeezing it. “Please,” you whispered, not even really sure what you were asking for.

You could only stare as Astarion's face inched closer to yours, his nose brushing against yours before his lips finally met your own in a soft kiss. He pulled away for a split second, as if just realising what he'd done, his eyes wide. But before he could get too far away you chased his lips, pressing another kiss to them.

“Astarion…” You whispered.

He kept hold of your face, whispering your name against your lips. Your free hand gripped onto his shirt, almost as if he might disappear if you didn't. He gazed into your eyes, his brows furrowing as he appeared to have an internal battle with himself.

Astarion dropped his hand and stepped away, running a hand through his hair. “I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me,” he apologised.

You shook your head, your cheeks flushed and your skin feeling impossibly hot. “Don't apologise.”

“My master…” Astarion whispered, looking down at the ground. “If he ever found out that I did this.”

“Your… master? Do you mean Lord Cazador?”

Astarion frowned at the ground, saying nothing. You stepped forward and reached for his hand but he pulled away slightly.

“Please talk to me. I- I don't want to marry Cazador and I can't bear to be here any longer feeling like this,” you pleaded.

Astarion looked up at you, his eyes sad. “You were upset and I took advantage of that. I… I can't do this. As much as I might want to.”

Astarion snapped his mouth shut and quickly retreated back inside before you could say something to make him stay.

Part 4

#red writes #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fanfiction #astarion #astarion fic

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theantonian · 6 months

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Antony and Cytheris

There was a Greek actress named Cytheris who was Antony's mistress during 48-49 BC, and he gave some offence to respectable people by gallantly calling her Volumnia, a name almost sacred to the Romans because it was that of the wife of Coriolanus, the woman who, in 489 B.C., saved Rome from her husband's vengeance.

Antony took her about with him on the various political journeys he had to make to towns in the neighbourhood of the capital, and caused a good deal of outraged comment by introducing her to the local notables who received him.

He was, in fact, very proud of being her lover, for the stage and its celebrities thrilled him newly come as he was from the camp as greatly as it thrilled men ten years younger than himself who lived in Rome; and his was not the nature to conceal his feelings.

It has often been said that Antony never grew up, but remained, as Renan puts it, "a colossal child, capable of conquering a world, in capable of resisting a pleasure"; yet at this period of his life, at any rate, that criticism does not quite meet the case: his boyish attitude towards Rome's gaieties was due, rather, to his having been out of reach of them during the years in which young men were generally having their fill of them and becoming blase.

When he had thus to go out of Rome, he used to take his mother with him, assigning her a carriage or litter and its escort not any more splendid, as Plutarch tells us, than that given to Cytheris, a circumstance which led Cicero in after years to pretend that the elder lady, utterly neglected, was forced to follow the mistress of her profligate son as though the hussy had been her daughter-in-law.

But the fact that he did take his mother about with him suggests, on the contrary, that he was a very affectionate son whose goings-on were indulgently smiled at by the broad-minded Julia, accustomed as she had been all her life to the lax morals of the fashionable world. It is conceivable that she was very fond of Cytheris.

Sources: Plutarch’s Life of Antony

Cicero, Philippic ii, xxiv.

Arthur Weigall, The Life and Times of Marc Antony

#marc antony #mark antony #marcus antonius #cytheris #rome #roman history #ancient rome #roman republic #roman empire #plutarch #women of rome #roman women

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dangermousie · 10 months

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Farscape rewatch - Won’t Get Fooled Again, 2x15

Won't Get Fooled Again is one of my all time favorite episodes. In fact, it is in the running for THE favorite non-multi-parter, together with Terra Firma and Constellation of Doubt (both from S4). Its mixture of genuine hilarity and equally genuine dark horror is so on brand.

(The whole show summed up.)

I love how a little off-kilter it is even in the beginning: when John wakes up in a world that's a little too candy-bright, too sharp-lit and there is discordant music throughout, in the background but insistent.

I love his reactions to yet another species messing with his mind: it starts as a blase-angry acceptance, a sort of weariness tinged with hysteria. 'Oh, we are at it again’ (the list of possible instigators he rattles off tells its own tale but it ends up none of them but yet someone else) but this emotion is something that degenerates into panic and devastation soon enough, because Crichton, no matter how he likes to pretend, is simply not twisted enough for the games others play with him.

And of course the layer cake of horrors keeps building - not just with events and interactions inside his mind which get more and more awful but in discovery of what is going on - not just the discovery that he has a chip of Scorpius in his mind but that now that he’s a target of Scorpius this means he’s a target of Scarrans because they want to know why Scorpius wants him - we have started on the path where he becomes the most wanted man in the Galaxy with all its adjacent horrors (and I will always like Farscape that all of it starts with a good and selfless deeds - the ancients in a moment of kindness gave him a path to eventually go home. And John went down to the Peacekeeper Base to save Aeryn. And all this brings is madness and pain. Goodness does not guarantee anything; it truly is its own reward because there is nothing else you can gain from it. But the ancients really did pick right, didn’t they? John is smart and stubborn and good enough to fight the universe to protect wormholes; he’s probably the most appropriate person, and it still ends up being almost not enough.) And of course, the offhand comment Chip Scorpy makes that no, John has been approaching this all wrong - Scarran doesn’t want to fool him, he wants to break him. There is always another additional layer of cruelty and unreason Crichton does not anticipate because he’s simply not twisted enough.

This episode has some utterly hilarious moments (Crais in Dorothy’s heels reading the world’s most twisted version of Miranda’s rights, Rygel as the boss, anything with D'Argo), some moments that are both funny and disturbing, and then some moments that are truly horrifying. Starting with when John's dead mother is first brought up, the Scarran can tell that he has hit something that will help him drive Crichton over the edge, and the whole thing turns repulsive pretty quick. It starts with her talking to him, and it kills me that even though he knows she is dead, and that he tries to fight it, he can't help but want to be hugged, to be held by her again. He holds her even as he breaks down and he just looks so weary. And her comment about his lost innocence, and the fact that he has killed and that is why he cannot sleep at night is just...it's so enormous, because it's of course, his own subconscious talking to him here, but he so wants to believe he is worthy of consolation.

And then later, in one of the most wrenching scenes, she appears again, with the IV and sick, and probably the way she looked as she was dying and begs him to stay with her 'this time' and he just goes to pieces, and he is weeping, unprettily, he looks utterly destroyed and is crying 'this is cruel, this is cruel' and stumbles away. He begs for it to stop but in that world, begging is not a signal for mercy but to go harder. That is just KILLER.

Or the bit where he sees his parents bicker over whether it's better to have him or a dog. And then there is the 'Oedipal' scene where she tries to seduce him and I get full body shudders. Farscape never shied away from taboos or oddness, witness the scene in the same ep with Rygel in dominator outfit telling “bitches” Chiana, Zhaan and Aeryn to get out of the way “Crichton is mine:”

(Side note - I actually love that in real world or nightmares, Crichton is most often the victim and target of violence or mindfucks or just plain cruelty and not all-mighty victor or perpetrator of same or w/e. He is smart and tough but guess what, there is always someone in the universe who can be smarter or tougher and definitely infinitely more evil and willing to cross lines he’s not willing to cross and not coming always on top does not make him weak, it just makes him human.)

But that scene with his mother is one of the closest I ever came to watching through my fingers. The wonder is not that Crichton goes insane by the end of this season, but that it took this long!

Another thing that is so notable is Crichton's off-hand nihilism. How different from the other, earlier 'mess up his mind’ ep, AHR: he crashes the car he is in, he shoots at the assembled fake Moyans. And there is no pause, he just does it: he doesn't know what it would lead to, but his reaction is almost automatic. The scenes with Harvey (and that is the ep he gets named in!) are brilliant: Crichton, laughing without any mirth, naming his chip (because everything is so insane, this is about the most sane thing of the bunch), Harvey revealing everything only to erase it. The last scene when Crichton tries to mouth what he has learned and not being about to make sounds, able to at first, only through sheer stubbornness, but then losing even that. That so made me think of end of S2 and him equally mute, contorted on the surgical table.

And, of course, Aeryn. This time I noticed that when 'Bettina' kisses 'Gary,' even though he knows both are fakes, the look he gives them? Whoa.

Or that his first reaction when he first sees her in that world is to ask for help because he is so used to her being on his side (but this world is less comforting than AHR and any assistance is taken from him.)

But you know what gets me even more? The scene with the disco ball. Because John's subconscious believed more than anything that Aeryn would come and save him. After all, she 'is the Radiant Aeryn Sun.' And all he got was another mindfuck.

(the way he gropes for her boot!)

Yeah. This ep is funny, heartbreaking, brilliant and disturbing. You know what struck me this time? There is so much hurt, but no comfort at all. It ends as disorientingly as it begins with John in that shaft, mind recently erased, recently brought back from clinical death, having to find his own way out, having just lost crucial knowledge and not knowing it, nobody around. All hurt no comfort.

PS the fact that Crichton only survives with his mind intact because someone else has already hijacked his mind is one of the darkest mindfucks in this show. He does not win against the Scarran through strength of mind or power of will. He wins because he’s already enslaved and claimed.

#farscape

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ro-botany · 2 months

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How did Freddie deal with Lissa's wedding to Henry in your head and how impressed was he that Henry WOULD take something like that seriously? I need to know from a Freddie fan--

Depends entirely on how far along Fred and Henry are in their support chain, tbh!

One of Frederick's flanderization traits is being so cautious wrt the Ylissean royals that it borders on paranoia, and Henry has a lot of things going against him at the start. For one thing he joins the Shepherds under suspicious circumstances, and we know already Fred is NOT about that. For another, Henry's glee at blood and death and the like would be concerning to anyone, but doubly so to Mister Anxiety over here, and perhaps triply so because it may hit a nerve wrt Frederick's pyromanic streak.

I think it's unlikely that Lissa and Henry get married so close to Henry's joining the Shepherds, though. In part because of how hectic shit is around then and in part just, the vibes I get idk. :P

So we have to talk about the nature of Frederick and Henry's relationship after they've had a bit of time to get to know each other. To their supports!

In Fred and Henry's support chain we get to see them... become friends, actually! The supports start with Henry ducking training sessions, and Frederick thinking his complete nonchalance about serious matters is annoying as hell. But by the end, Henry admits he actually finds training fun now that he's tried it, and Fred, now convinced of how devoted a soldier Henry is, is so overjoyed he gives Henry a big ol bear hug and lays on the praise!

How it started:

Frederick: Henry, wait! Are you going to train or not? It's a matter of life and death! Bah! What an aggravating young man!

How it's going:

Henry: H-hey, Frederick! Easy with the bear hugs! These little bones might snap like...Oh, whoa! Are you CRYING?! Frederick: Tears of joy, my young friend! For at last you are a devoted and committed soldier! Henry: I always WAS! Frederick: Continue this hard work, and you will win the respect and praise of everyone in the army. Henry: You really think people notice what I do around here? 'Cause I doubt it. I mean, what kind of things do they say about me now? Frederick: I'm sure if we were to ask Chrom, he'd say you are his most trusted lieutenant. You are the hope of the future and the greatest prospect this army has. Henry: Nya ha ha! If you lay it on any thicker, I'll be smothered to death!

Fred is almost certainly not being literal here -- he's a sarcastic little shit, he's being hyperbolic on purpose. But it speaks volumes that in the A support he's comfortable enough with Henry to be physically affectionate and tease like that. Usually if he's going to aim his wit at someone he doesn't like he's a lot meaner. This is on the same block as the kind of gentle teasing he aims at Lissa, and to a lesser degree Chrom.

So, how would he deal with Lissa and Henry's wedding? Well... He would be a worrywart, of course, because that's just who he is. His biggest concern is that Henry won't treat such an important day with the gravity and attention it deserves, because Henry tends to be very blase about, well, everything.

I can see him giving Henry a big concerned dad coded lecture about how if he's going to go through with this he'd BETTER dress appropriately and he'd BETTER be on time and if he doesn't treat milady well he'll have Fred to answer to and so on and so on. But Henry will just wave him off as casually as usual and say OF COURSE he's taking this seriously, are you kidding?? He's the one who proposed, dummy! He got her the nicest ring he could find! Don't ask where he got it! It's gonna go great!

And this won't stop Fred from worrying, and being an endearing yet utterly annoying amount of worried at both the bride and the groom, but it will probably get him to back off some, because for as scatterbrained and un-serious as Henry can be, Fred knows he's not a liar. If he says he's committed to something or someone, then he is.

When Henry shows up decked out in gorgeous traditional Plegian wedding attire Fred sheds a few tears, part relief and part joy. No matter how weird Henry makes the ceremony Fred is gonna be a big blubbering mess about it.

Years down the line when they start talking about children he remembers suddenly how much Henry loves death and injuries and dark magic and immediately has a heart attack and a half, but hey, we'll get there when we get there.

Side note: can Henry's crows be part of the wedding somehow because I would love it if the crows were part of the wedding somehow

#fe awakening #frederick #this could've been like 1/3 the length it is but as we all know #i am allergic to brevity #ask me to infodump about the blorbos and ye shall receive

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phoenixwrites · 9 months

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My OTP was always adult Lily and adult Brady--Charlotte's daughter and Miranda's son from SATC. I love babies ever after, I love when friends hatch a plot to get their kids together.

In "And Just Like That"...now that that's canon, I can't wait to see how these writers are going to utterly ruin the ship.

Other updates:

I can't believe I'm back to shipping Aiden and Carrie. Carrie was SO AWFUL to him. I'm glad his ex-wife told her to not hurt him again. (And to please not use her children for article content, it's a very fair ask.) But I dunno. I just love Aiden so much and it SEEMS like they're doing the work and Carrie is open about sharing her life with his kids...

I kinda like the angle that Aiden is unwilling to come into her apartment, because he is intensely triggered by the heartbreak and hurt there. That makes a lot of sense for his character.

Meh on Seema's new romance, but for characters like Seema and Samantha--jesus I just realized how similar Seema and Samantha are, they really were just like 'let's have a new Samantha but make her Indian'--I usually am meh on their romance.

I'm glad Nya's living her best life.

Christopher Jackson's character has been bugging me on how blase he's been about his wife's career, but I liked that little twisty reveal at the end. (I LIKE. BABIES. GET OFF ME.)

Che is gradually growing on me, like a cancerous tumor.

Miranda remains the worst, but I like her new chic Lesbian look.

Charlotte pendulum swinging on whether it's good or bad if Brady and Lily are together--it could mess up her friendship with Miranda if they broke up BUT WOULDN'T THEIR KIDS BE CUTE that is a very in-character Charlotte reaction.

STILL MISSING SAMANTHA JONES I am firmly team Kim Cattrall but the reboot series has s u f f e r e d without her electric presence and I'm glad they're paying her a cool million to come back, she deserves it.

#SATC #And Just Like That

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crimsonxe · 1 year

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Here’s a bit of newflash to a particular Fixing RWBY up-his-own-ass moron, which isn’t even coming from me specifically but is a common thought among horror/thriller writers in approaches to invoking the horror element:

- Thing not shown or shown here and there sparsely/vaguely triggering the idea of the unknown (and utilizing the viewer/reader’s own mind against them via filling in the gaps with their own concepts of horrifying things)

vs.

- Choosing to show the scary thing clearly and repeatedly thus making it blase. It’s actually an area where a lot of horror movies stumble by trying to show how badass and cool their creature is. Some can pull it off, but more times than not it falls short.

The first is generally viewed as the far more impactful and horrifying route.

Now in RWBY v6′s case, it might’ve been purposeful or might’ve been unintentional, regardless having Adam briefly pop up in front of Blake in v6 only to disappear till later is far more terrifying. It leaves filling in the gaps to the audience of what creep-ass shit he was up to. Removing that element in order to try to give an edgelord piece of shit more screen-time as a “big powerful edgelord male” is completely and utterly dumb af. Not even diving into how it’s set up in Fixing RWBY runs against the damn show where said scenario puts to the side the female MC’s to boost up screen time for male characters in a show that from the start always puts the female MC’s front-and-center.

One of the reasons RWBY is as successful as it is, because finally female badasses that are put at the front of their own series that aren’t fanserviced and don’t have the screen-time taken to put towards male characters. So Celtic once again shows how that side of things never were in alignment with RWBY.

Once again I say that Celtic can go fuck his own obnoxious ass with his piss-poor idea of RWBY. What he wants isn’t RWBY, its some dumbass male-focused shounen series that boosts up the male shitlord characters for him to latch onto like the pathetic and disgusting sack of shit right-winger he is.

#rwby

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loopy777 · 1 year

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So one of the more ambiguous parts of later MHA is Dabi's actual relationship with the league, and how he truly thinks of them, especially Twice.

In particularly, his extreme reaction to Twice death serving as the decisive turning point where he once and for all went completely off the rails as utterly nuts, leaving any bit of sanity behind, can be read two ways.

Either his words can be taken at face value, and he never gave a damn about the league, and was only pissed because twice was the single biggest ace in the hole for his ultimate goal, and his death put a massive dent in it, or he is simply coping with suddenly feeling real sadness and despair by distancing himself from Twice by saying of course i didn't care about him, of course I'm not in any emotional pain right now, and by extension emotionally distancing himself from the rest of the league(Who's potential deaths could hurt him just as much).

Adding fuel to this is how he seems to emotionally get and connect with Toga while burning down her childhood home.

Of these two interpretations, it's one or the other.

In any case, which do you find to be the more likely one?

I've wondered about this myself, and had to discuss it with my brother because I'm so conflicted about it. The thing that really stands out to me about the whole matter is that Dabi doesn't seem to blame Twice for falling for Hawks' deception and even tries to comfort the guy. I mean, in that situation -- Twice falling for a second time for someone who exploited his trust to hurt the League, and this time so disastrously that it might lead to the end of everything -- I'd probably have a level of anger at a friend for doing it, but Dabi purely blames Hawks and even acts like he's there to support Twice in the wake of the betrayal.

At the same time, I don't feel like Dabi is merely covering up his hurt at Twice's death. I think Dabi really is obsessed with his whole revenge quest, and he has such a degree of emotional detachment from other people that I don't believe he's capable of forming bonds and friendships the way normal people can. I don't think he could be such a proliferate murderer, and so blase about it, without that dysfunction. Honestly, I don't think Dabi values human life enough to make real friendships; I don't think he even fully values his own life, never mind that of his buddies in the League.

So I guess I'm splitting the difference and saying that Dabi is complicated in a very messed up kind of way, where he really is capable of seeing similarities between himself and others who aren't standing in the way of his goals, and can identify and express sympathy when they're hurt, but at the same time he doesn't really value those people enough to feel hurt from losing them. He's not a chess master considering other people as resources, he just has no capacity for grief.

Maybe the key comes down to Loss. Dabi no longer responds to it, perhaps because he already feels like he's lost everything, so all the comings and goings in his life are just rounding errors.

He can look at someone like Twice or Toga and say, "Hey, we were all hurt in the same way and that makes us cool (as long as you don't get in my way), but all of us are just dead men walking so I'm not going to climb out of my grave to attend your funeral."

Anyway, that's just my speculation. I think it's great that Twice's subplot climaxes in such a way that is so rich and rewarding for all the characters entangled in it. It makes us ponder them all in new ways, and so might be one of the best in all of MHA.

#loopy watches mha #is this still considered spoilers?#i'll play it safe #mha spoilers #my hero academia spoilers #boku no hero academia spoilers #bnha spoilers #only spoilers for stuff in the first half of season six #thekingofwinterblog

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mikkeneko · 2 years

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For the ask game if you were intending to do it of 'what scene did you write the fanfic for', 'hot necromancer singles seeking dom daddies in your area'?

Oddly enough, probably the scene where Lan Wangji is trying to do proper kink negotiation and Wei Wuxian is just being utterly blase about his own wellbeing as Lan Wangji gets more and more frustrated and alarmed by whatever made him this janky

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takaraphoenix · 2 years

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I hate Wattpad. I hate Wattpad so much.

I genuinely think that, even if you personally did not have a bad experience, you should stop using Wattpad. People should not support a site that is so blase about theft, a site where a huuuge percentage of its users are thieves who have not a care in the world.

Seriously. If you have to report three (3) of a person’s fics as stolen - but posted as chapters within one fic that serves as a oneshot collection - you would think that... something proper happens.

At the very fucking least this entire ““collection”“ ought to be taken down, because if 3/10 are stolen, probably the other ones are too.

But honestly, if a user is reported three times, that should be three strikes and out and their fucking thieving ass of an account should be terminated.

But no, no, this orange shit-stain of a website only deleted the chapters within the collection. Nothing else happened. This asshole of a thief just gets to keep on thieving because hey, literally no consequences at all why would they stop.

I hate this website that is so utterly useless, that fosters an environment that literally attracts thieves - I’ve had one (1) instance of someone reposting my work on FFNet, I’ve had two (2) instances of someone reposting my work on AO3, I’ve had zero (0) instances of my work being reposted on here on tumblr and I genuinely can not count the amount of reports I had to file with Wattpad because they’re well beyond 20 at this point and they just keep coming.

I’m sorry but no, no a website that doesn’t give a shit and a website full of thieves really should not be supported by people. Why are people even on there when AO3 exists. Heck, even FFNet has a better system on how to find fics, Wattpad is like some cryptic maze. Why are people doing this to themselves.

#Wattpad

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milk-chocolate-heart · 2 years

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Inktober 2022 Day 1-3: Pumpkin Carving

WARNINGS: None that I can think of, but please let me know if you think about something that needs tagging.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Summary ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ : Niki had come to expect the weirdest things out of life since she had joined this Server, but still, how was she meant to just be chill, with seeing the Grand Villain of The Server, AKA Dream, petting dogs, and foxes, outside of Technoblade's house.

And to top it all off, how was she meant to keep up the chill, while pumpkin carving for the holidays, together, with said Villain, like, you really can't blame her for being rather on edge this time.

(Slight canon divergence) (Dream and Niki hanging out, while pumpkin carving)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ AO3 Link ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Niki wasn't exactly fond of the current situation, but she was making the best out of it.

Techno had broken Dream out of prison, then had told him to go away, she had thought it would have ended there, and yet.

She had walked outside Techno's cabin, and had found Dream laying there, with his back leaned against the stable's wood. One hand lazily on top of one of Techno's dogs.

And well, that's not exactly what she had been expecting.

"Oh," Niki blinked, "What?"

Dream hazily brought his head up, he looked eerily similar to a bird's neck that had been left, strung to a wall, to croak.

The white, smiley face mask, was pointed towards her, but when Dream spoke, she could feel he was looking right past her.

"Long time no see, Technoblade" Niki backed up at those words, and turned to look behind her.

"Dream" Techno had an amused smirk on his face, and an utterly unsurprised look in his eyes "So, how's the Post-Prison Arc goin'?"

Dream left his head fall against the wood again "Epic."

"I'm gonna be honest, you look like death."

"Okay" He replied with a blase tone.

"This guy, Chat" Techno shook his head and laughed.

He stopped looking at Dream, and turned his attention to Niki. He handed her a big warm coat.

"Aw, thank you" She felt the thick material underneath her fingertips, and equipped it "Thank you, Techno" She allowed her face and shoulders to relax a little, having her friends near her allowed her to feel a kind of safety, that she very rarely felt.

"I'm cold too, Techno" Dream said, as one of the foxes threw himself in the snow, near his legs. Dream huffed out, petting the fox's dirty white fur.

"You can control the weather, Dream" Techno responded, mindlessly licking at one of his tusks.

"Ah-" The fox threw himself at Dream's chest "Hmm, you're right" Dream held him closer.

"So, you are just gonna stay there, bro?" Techno raised an eyebrow at him.

"Maybe" Dream looked to the side, at the pale sun that shined on the Antarctic "For a few more hours," Niki thought, he looked so so tired.

"A few more hours" Techno tilted his head "Did you sleep in my front yard, dude?"

"Perhaps," Dream said. Niki couldn't see his face, or his expressions at all, his body barely moved, yet she felt, like he totally had a teasing smile hidden underneath.

"EHHH!?" Techno's eyes shot towards the sky "Chat! You didn't tell me! This gu-"

Dream scratched the neck of the fox on his lap "What are you gonna do about it, Technoblade, torture me?" His words were as sharp as a dagger, as sharp as all of his edges, as shard as she had expected him to be, as she knew him to be.

Niki hooked onto the word Torture. She had heard Techno mention it in passing, only once before, that The Pandora's Vault was torture.

She hadn't wanted to ask how literal he meant it.

She had that heart-feeling, like he really did.

Techno's mouth mimicked an O "Can you believe this man!? I broke him out of jail, was his roommate for three months in The Human-Rights-Violations Box, and this is how he repays me, Chat. Can you believe this?"

Dream tilted his head, in the same manner, Techno had done "We are even now, Techno."

Then he stretched his back against the wood behind him, letting out a big yawn.

Niki wondered if he had just woken up then.

The thought that they had been inside the house for hours, while Dream simply slept outside, and they just didn't notice, sent chills down her spine. But, obviously, she wasn't about to show it.

She wanted to stand up too, to be brave too.

She totally managed to hold her flinching down, as she suddenly heard Philza's voice by her left side- accompanied by the everlasting cawing, and flying of the enormous murder of crows that followed him everywhere- even though she definitely didn't see him, or them for that matter, coming from anywhere.

Philza shook his head from side to side, with a disapproving, done-in, sigh "Tech, it doesn't look like he's gonna leave."

Techno hummed in acknowledgment "Ey, I don't mind offering some charity to the homeless" Niki heard Dream go: Oh My God, in the background of Techno's sentence, "If you guys don't mind."

Philza's eyes landed on his murder of crows.

Niki understood them to be like her Diary, his Chat. She was glad her friend had a Chat to relay on, of his own.

Philza nodded, then sighed. Seems like all of his Chat had come to some sort according, right now.

"Fine, fine. As long as he's not a complete little shit while he stays" Philza said, looking at Dream up and down. It oddly reminded Niki of the looks he would give Wilbur every now, and then, "Tommy better not find out, though."

Dream immediately answered, like the snap of fireworks "He won't."

Philza's eyes held a dangerous glint, that Niki very rarely got to see. She stood, as if ready to charge into battle, she supposed she was. She wanted to be.

"Are you gonna be it, Dream?" Techno asked him, with the same humorous confidence of always, but they all knew he appeared confident for a very real reason.

Dream's responses were relaxed once more, almost enough to make one wonder if they always were "Can't make any promises about that."

"Yup, as expected" Techno rolled his eyes, before looking to his side to ask Niki "Do you mind?"

"Uhm" She took a second to answer, she wasn't used to not second-guessing herself any longer.

She gripped the rose handle, of her netherite sword tighter, the one she always kept on her belt, ready to be unsheathed, and well-utilized.

She gripped, until her knuckles got red, underneath the cold burn of the Antarctic.

She continued her sentence "If the both of you are fine with it, and Ranboo isn't home right now, and Dream promises to not do anything terrible, I'm fine with letting him stay a few hours more."

"Dream?" Techno asked him once more.

"Oh, for sure, for sure. I don't have any evil villain plans scheduled for today, that's actually why I came over to do a meet-up with your pets. You can trust me, dude."

"Truly! Dream! The face of trustworthiness, that's why are best friends!" Techno whistled, and a bunch of the dogs came up running towards Dream, smashing their heads against him.

Dream let out a little scream, "What is wrong with you!?"

"Absolutely nothing, I have no flaws, Dream. Keep up."

"You are an idiot" The dogs finally calmed down, to lay by his side.

"Now, listen: There are Halloween mobs out there tonight, and I'm gonna get them, before everybody else, but-

Dream interrupted him "But?"

"You wouldn't know this, Dream, but when people have houses they like to decorate them, and in the spirit of the holiday, lemme just say, if you are gonna stay here, better get to pumpkin carving."

Oh yeah, Niki had forgotten with the sudden interference by Dream, that that's what they were supposed to be doing today. Decorating the cabin for the holidays, it had been mostly her idea.

"Pumpkin carving?" Dream gestured, raising up his hand, with his opened palm.

"Yeah, Dream. That's what people do when they carve pumpkins, and wh-"

"Yeah, I know! Technoblade!"

"Good, good, then I will be expecting that pumpkin when Phil and I get back."

Niki heard Phil stifle a little laugh, trying to hide as much of his face underneath his hat as possible, (Though, honestly, she didn't think he was trying all that hard.)

All eyes went back to Dream, now that Techno's humorous quips had receded.

"...Fine" Dream did a dramatic sigh before getting up.

So, that's now what she was expecting either.

Niki couldn't help but notice how difficult it seemed for him to get up, the strength in which he gripped the stable's door, or how his knees cracked at his every move.

It was difficult to look at, it felt like watching a string puppet fall apart.

She noticed the cold expression Techno showed, at the sight of Dream's struggle. It was always difficult for her to know what exactly he was thinking about.

Dream took out his shield, and placed it in front of himself. Niki took out her sword.

"Phil, hand the green Teletubby his pumpkin, please," Techno asked Phil, leaning his elbow on Philza's shoulder.

Philza got the pumpkin out of his inventory "'Course, dude" Dream and Philza stared at each other. Dream extended his hands towards Philza.

Niki could tell Phil wasn't exactly stoked here either, but he simply handed him the pumpkin.

"Here you go" Dream received it, and examined it.

"Well, see you soon, mate" Philza had already offered her to come with them earlier this morning, but Niki hadn't really felt up to it.

She was tired. She felt very tired, very often.

Maybe she should speak about it more, but that felt tiring too, just not being alone was enough for her some days.

"See you, take care" She turned from Philza to Techno "The both of you, please."

"Of course, Niki, of course," Techno gave her a reassuring smile, one that Niki sincerely returned, even through the worn-down lines of her face, and heart.

Techno then turned to Dream, nodded to him, Dream nodded back, and they left.

Niki slowly got out her own pumpkin.

She waited until she saw Dream sit back down, on his, apparently designated, side of the stable, that they had found him in.

The fox crawled back on top of him, climbing his side until he got on top of Dream's head.

Dream didn't really seem to mind, not exactly what Niki was expecting.

She saw him pull out a tiny dagger with a snake-decorated handle, from his inventory.

She walked to the other extreme of the cabin, it was for the best to keep distance here.

She wasn't about to show him any fear.

She peeked at him through the corner of her eye, at the skilled and quick movements Dream made against the pumpkin's surface. She rolled her eyes, it was exactly like him, wasn't it, pragmatic, without wasting a single second.

She felt like Dream was staring right at her, as she stared at him, but his mask didn't move an inch, and his hands kept working. She could tell he had a complete focus on his task, what was tricky about Dream was telling what his real task was at all.

Being around him was unnerving and ominous, but so what, she wasn't going to run away from her own home, or go back on her word. She knew she wouldn't be judged for it, that was the point of The Syndicate, but she still didn't want to.

She stopped directly observing, and got to work on her own pumpkin.

She slashed harsh, and stiffly into it, creating a rosarium with a stabbed-through spear.

She felt the minutes trail down around them, with little more than the noises of the snow falling and raising around them, and of the animals moving around the building.

It wasn't a very pleasant silence, or anything like that, it wasn't like when The Syndicate sat around their secret meeting room, with a book opened, and simply read together for hours to no end.

But, it wasn't the chilling fear, and tense anxiety she was expecting either. It was slightly better than that.

More bearable, if nothing else.

She left her hands to work on their own while her mind escaped elsewhere, somehow, it always went back to old memories of sweet-smelling bakery shops.

She finished hers, surprisingly before he finished his.

Looking at it, she couldn't quite figure out what shape his pumpkin was supposed to have.

She decided to keep busy, being idle always made her anxious, and the more anxious she got the more difficult getting active became. Better to avoid it all together.

She stood up, and began placing the blocks around, trying to make a cute decoration.

Making sure to keep paying attention to Dream behind her, but yet again, she had the feeling that if Dream really wanted to strike them down, he would have already done so. It was an ominous sort of reassurance.

The clock kept ticking. Niki looked up to see the sky fade from a soft orange, to a deep blue darkness, it was officially the first night of their new month.

The thought of it gave her a little bit of hope, she didn't know exactly what for.

She thought back about her Diary, and her city, she would have a lot to tell them all about, once she got back.

She finished lighting up the candles, and setting up the long table.

She found herself adding an extra seat, and too nervous to say a word about it.

Niki said "Hey," She didn't approach Dream, and she kept the sword in her hand the entire time, she attentively watched as Dream's open attention immediately focused on her "I feel like-"

Dream interjected "Here it is" And handed her the pumpkin he had been carving.

It came out of her mouth without a second thought, as if all of her reserves about him disappeared for a second at the sight of it "Aww, that's us! That's cute."

The pumpkin was a mooshy cartoon-like version of all of The Syndicate standing together.

Niki took note of the smiley face being used for Ranboo, and of the dog with the tag Apollo standing next to Techno, and Connor.

Then she remembered it was Dream she was around of.

"What?" She heard a sharp intake of air. Dream was there, with one hand held up in front of the mouth of his mask, wheezing loudly.

She grabbed it, and quickly backed away from him.

She placed it on top of the same, huge wooden table, surrounded by benches, that she had been working on. Right next to her own pumpkin.

Niki could say he almost looked embarrassed, but it was Dream, so she wouldn't say it

Dream managed to speak up, still choked up from the lack of air, "I- To be fair- I- Thanks!"

Guess Dream of all people wouldn't hear the word cute in reference to himself very often, she felt brave in her territory.

She wasn't expecting to hear a thank you from Dream, it reminded her of simpler times, of selling flowers together with Puffy in a little wooden shop.

Being reminded of things like this, stung.

"You are welcome" She sat the pumpkin on the table, next to her own.

"Did you finish yours?" Dream nodded towards her pumpkin.

"Yes" She said, her voice almost getting lost in the noise of a sudden gust of wind.

She turned her attention to how they looked like together, thinking about the other four they still needed to put on the table.

She felt tented to say, it looked good, and it was late, and she was cold, and she didn't want to not do things because she was scared, so she did.

"It's nice too."

Dream nodded "Yours looks awesome."

Niki blinked. Awesome, was a little too casual wasn't it.

She thought this was the most she had spoken to him since, well, always.

Everything he did, or said, caught her off-guard, his very presence was enough to unnerve her, but he hadn't actually done much today, beyond pumpkin carving, as it seems.

She looked around her, and walked to the sides of the building, but just like he had suddenly appeared in the morning, he had disappeared at night.

She focused her eyes on the snowflakes falling actively on them now.

Her voice sometimes didn't feel like her own "Thank you, Dream" But, when she focused her attention back on him, he was already gone "Oh…?"

Which, Niki reasoned, was to be expected from Dream.

But looking at the extra chair, she felt a tang of disappointment, that she decided it was best to brush away.

She sat down at the table, now in the Antarctic by herself.

It was for the best he left, she knew, and she was hoping he wouldn't come back.

She could finally put away her sword.

"Guess it's just us now, Hound Army Thorn" Niki hugged her to her chest, and they waited the night away together.

One of the dogs that she had decided to name Rose came up to her.

Rose threw herself to be petted, near Niki's feet, putting her head on Niki's lap.

Niki cooed at her, cuddling her right away.

Later on, when Niki had already fallen asleep, with her head on top of the table, hugging the wine-red cape Techno had just gifted her that morning, closer to herself, with Rose snoozing by her side.

Techno and Philza found her.

Techno grabbed it, looking at his own artistic rendition portrait, by the hand, and knife, of Dream's, yours truly.

Philza pointed towards the pumpkin, that he figured Dream had made, already laughing.

"Oh My God! Wait, no way, dude" He grabbed the pumpkin, holding it up for Techno to see better "For some reason, I have the feeling I know who made this one, y'know."

"This guy is such a sentimental" He joined in with Philza's laughter of disbelief for a moment "C'mon, Phil, we have to get Niki inside, I dunno what's up with these two, and wanting to sleep in our backyard."

"Our backyard is very pog, can't blame 'em."

Techno grabbed Niki, and carefully held her up, letting her head rest, right underneath his chin "Right you are, my friend, right you are" And so, they quietly made their way, back to the warmth of their home.

#dreblr #c!dream #c!niki #dream smp #dsmp fanfic #the syndicate #inktober #did 3 days in a row because face reveal #> Milk Writes

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