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macfrog · 8 months

Text

ace sex on fire chapter six

this entire chapter is me making up for 1. the golfing line in chapter two, and 2. joel's entire experience of tlou2. naughty dog i'm waiting for ur response. 24 hours to reply

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel takes you on a day trip to go golfing. it turns out to be more fun than you expected

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) golf. idk what else to say. age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, more sugardaddy!joel, discussions of pregnancy + reader perhaps not wanting children, sort of possessive!joel?, praise kink, unprotected piv car sex, daddy kink, exhibitionist fantasy, creampie, more teasing + flirting, angst + pining, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 9.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Good girl. He there?” The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare. “Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel. “He watching?” “Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily. “Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

The cab squeaks to a halt right outside the office, dropping you at the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to the revolving door. There are already bodies filtering in and out of the building, despite how early it is.

You thank the driver – Mick, you’ve come to learn. He seems to run this route on weekday mornings; it’s always him who shows up at your apartment when you can’t be bothered to walk to work, or miss the damn bus. Mick tosses a thumbs up over his shoulder and you swing out into the brilliant sun.

It’s Thursday. You’ve been home sixty-five hours, by your count. Joel gave you a couple days after landing stateside to catch up on sleep, readjust. He’d gone back to work Tuesday morning, though, 8AM sharp. Martha had text to ask where you were, and had sent six laughing emojis back when you replied with, How the fuck is he back already?

You make the climb up the steps, back to work, back to normality. It drags like a weight at your heels, the thought of returning to that gray office after three days wandering around picture-perfect, painted-pink Paris. After three days of Joel.

That split-open feeling, the cavity between your ribs – it’s sewn itself up since you got back to your own apartment, your own space. Since you showered a couple times, washed your clothes, started smelling like yourself again instead of Joel. Its sutures are made from the sound of the subway squealing to a halt, the smell of Chinese takeout from the place across the street.

But there’s a tiny piece of you, small enough to stay hidden from even yourself sometimes, that you know misses it. Misses…him. It only hurts when you touch it – the sewn-up scar, messy in your frantic attempts to close it up – it aches when you remember his hands on your waist whenever you wanted them there, his lips below your ear whenever you needed him.

As you approach the glass doors, you hear a whistle from behind, and turn to watch Joel slip out of his Rolls and jog up the steps. There’s a sports bag hanging from his left hand.

“Am I a dog?” you ask when he reaches you.

“It was an endearin’ whistle.”

“Very endearing. Don’t do it again.”

He nods once. “Yes, ma’am. Feelin’ awake yet?”

“Almost.” You follow him into the building, clicking along the polished marble floor at his side. “You didn’t waste any time getting back into the swing of things, I hear.”

You both nod good morning to the receptionists, and Joel hits the button to call the elevator.

“I’m an important man, baby,” he says, shrugging. “My job ain’t just answerin’ the phone ‘n making coffee.”

You scoff, slapping his back as he leads you through the sliding doors, which closer over and shut you both into your first moment of privacy in almost seventy hours. Joel immediately turns to face you, words behind his eyes that he can’t seem to sort into a coherent sentence.

In what you hear as an attempt to summarize, he says: “Back to reality.”

You brush the shoulders of his blazer, tug on his tie to straighten it. It’s the most you can bring yourself to do that doesn’t involve throwing yourself at him. There’s a throbbing right below your chest, like a magnet tugging you towards the man stood in front of you. Touching the padded shoulder of his suit will have to do. For now.

You lift your eyebrows, staring at the knot of his tie. “Yep.”

It’s pretty reductive, Back to reality. But then, what else is there to say? What else that wasn’t said between your bodies in Paris? A line was crossed there – you both went somewhere you can’t come back from so easily. And moving forward the way you had been before, seems equally as impossible.

There are eyes on you here. There are people who care to know what might be going on – whether they like it or not doesn’t matter. No more strutting out onto the terrace, running your hands all over one another, connecting skin and tongue in ways you wouldn’t have dreamt up two weeks ago.

No. This stays secret. A secret between you, Joel, and the French skies.

Joel places a hand on the small of your back as the elevator doors whip open. He ushers you out, and then, once in view of Martha’s desk, sidesteps to an appropriate distance.

“Welcome back,” your colleague greets you as you approach her desk. “Missed you, kid.”

You smile coyly. “Thanks,” you mumble. Guilt isn’t the easiest of emotions to hide.

Joel taps your arm gently and then nods towards his office. “Catch-up,” he says, and Martha rounds her desk to follow after him.

You drop your jacket and purse over the back of your chair and slip in behind them, leaning back on one of Joel’s leather couches with your arms crossed.

“Alright,” Martha sighs, “few things needing done this morning. First…”

You take a deep breath and slump down until your ass sits comfortably on the couch cushion, your knees draped over the arm, cradled inside your elbows.

Joel notices, and smirks to himself. He dials into his voicemail, hits a button, and a familiar voice echoes from his desk.

“Hey, Joel,” Drew’s voice says, “hope you enjoyed Paris ‘n aren’t still too hungover. I know what Jean-Marc’s like…”

Martha moves to the next bullet point, tilting her pad and tapping the tip of her pen to some messy scrawling you can’t read. You nod, eyes flitting up to watch Joel.

“Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re still good for later. S’posed to be a good day for it. Let me know if you need any help with directions. Alright. Looking forward to seeing you two soon. Cool.”

The machine cuts. Joel sits back in his chair, rests his heels on the wood in front of him. Black, shiny, ridiculously expensive shoes crossed over on top of a black, shiny, ridiculously expensive desk.

“…now, Ken needs to receive this as soon as possible, alright? I said I’d have it done by end of day yesterday – I did not, so I need you to –”

“Who’s you two?” you ask Joel, peering over Martha’s notepad.

He looks up, tossing a rubber band ball in his hands. “You ‘n me, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry,” Martha declares, “am I talking to myself–?”

You push her notepad out of your view, still staring at Joel. “What do you mean, you ‘n me?”

Martha drops her hands with a sigh. You repeat your question.

“Us,” Joel says, hint of irritation in his voice like you’re supposed to be in on something. “We’re goin’ golfing with him.”

“We’re going golfing?”

Martha, now exasperated, swings the pad under her bicep and crosses her arms over her chest, makes something of a growling noise. “You two are unbeliev…Are you listening to me?” she demands, clicking her fingers in front of you.

“No,” you reply simply, eyes locked on Joel’s.

His lips curve with a soft laugh. “You ain’t read your emails?” he asks.

Your head darts between him and Martha. Bewildered. “I was catching up on sleep, thank you very much,” you assert, nodding with finality at the blonde updo hovering over you.

You know she cares about you – at least enough to water your monstera deliciosa while you were gone – but Martha can be sharp; her outspokenness is something to admire and to fear, in one small five-foot-three frame.

She snorts, glancing over to Joel with a disbelieving shake of her head, but he doesn’t take her up on it. Just looks at her blankly and then turns back to you.

“We’re meeting Drew up at Aspen Heights. Few of his buddies are in town, he wanted to introduce ‘em to me.”

“And I’m coming – why?”

“Because he met you last week, musta liked you, ‘n he invited you.”

Your mouth opens to reply, some retort to bring into question the need for your presence at a fucking round of golf, when Joel and his words cut yours short in your throat.

“And I want you there with me.”

Martha raises her eyebrows when you look up at her. The thing is: this all seems very normal, from her perspective. You did such a good job at keeping Joel right in Paris, didn’t you? He made his flight there on time, he met with Jean-Marc without a hitch, and he was actually an hour early for his flight home.

That last part was because you’d woken up with the sun and couldn’t get back to sleep, so you woke him, too and…well. Kept each other busy until you physically couldn’t anymore. There wasn’t much point hanging around in the hotel suite when your cases were packed and your bodies were…fragile, so you left for the airport.

To her ignorant eyes – and bless her – this is all just networking. It’s you building work relationships, Joel at the helm overseeing everything and setting it all up for you. This is clear – that that’s all she thinks – when she says:

“He’s doin’ you a favor, sweetheart. You should go.”

“I don’t even have any golfing gear. I’m in suit trousers.” Your eyes trail down your black pinstripe pants, legs dangling from the arm of the couch.

“And you look fantastic,” Joel quips, though you know he’s half-serious, “but you do gotta find somethin’ more…” he waves a hand, “…golf.”

“Something more golf. That’s helpful.”

“Here,” he says, stretching into his back pocket. His hips lift from the seat of his chair, and your eyes land on the space just south of his belt buckle. He pulls his credit card from his wallet – the same one you could probably recite the numbers of by heart at this point – and holds it out. “Go grab somethin’ nice. My treat.”

My treat. Like he didn’t treat you all damn weekend.

You pull yourself up and take the card from his fingers.

“’n what about my list?” Martha asks.

Joel shrugs. “Ken can wait one more day. You got two hours,” he tells you, and then sits up straight, rubber band ball placed safely next to his Newton’s cradle. “I’ll have Rand take you.”

You follow Martha out of Joel’s office when his phone starts ringing and his head falls into his hands, letting you both know it’s not a call you want to be around to hear. As he lifts the handset, he lightly calls your name, and you exchange a sly smirk as you slip out the door.

Martha wanders off behind her own desk as you pull your purse over your shoulder. She loads her computer back up, chin lifting as she squints through her glasses at the screen.

“There’s a golf shop downtown,” she tells you, two index fingers tapping away on the keys. “Alan uses ‘em. Don’t think they’re too expensive, either. Wouldn’t know for sure, though, he spends so damn much anytime he’s in there.”

You watch her for a moment, nodding along. “Thanks, Martha.”

She holds up a finger as you walk past her desk toward the elevator. “Remember you still got my to-do list to tackle, so don’t be long!”

----------

Rand drops you on a quiet side street. He gives you his number, tells you to text him once you’re done, and the sleek black car rolls off.

On the corner sits Ace’s Pro Golf, a small, charming store, peeling wooden front painted fern green with golf-themed decals decorating the windows. You set off inside, passing under two transparent putters crossed over one another on the window above the door. An old brass bell rings out from overhead when you enter.

Its exterior is misleading. This store is huge. Overwhelmingly huge. Walls stacked with bags, clubs dangling from pegs. Baskets of balls and tees and other accessories dotted all over the creaky wooden floors, which are lined with racks upon racks of golfing clothes – shirts, trousers, dresses, skirts.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, edging towards the rails.

You slip between them, hand running along the multicolored choices, when your phone starts to ring, vibrating somewhere deep in your purse.

“Hey, Mom,” you mutter, slipping your cell between your cheek and your shoulder as you begin to search through the shirts in front of you.

“Hey, baby,” her voice sings to you. “Wasn’t expecting to catch you, thought you’d already be at work. Where you at?”

You sigh. “I’m shopping. Joel’s taking me golfing later.”

She almost chokes down the line. “Golfing?”

“Yeah. It’s this friend he went to school with, I met him at lunch last week. There’s a few of ‘em going, so he asked me along, too.”

“Nice guy. So, you’re shopping for an outfit?”

“Mhm.”

“Any…dress code?”

“Dress code?” You straighten up, switching the phone to your other ear. “Like, golfing gear? I dunno.”

She laughs. “Alright.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing! Nothing, baby.”

“Meant something, Mom. Tell me.”

“No, I just…” She sighs. “You’re sure this isn’t, like…It sounds an awful lot like a date. Like, you’re going on Joel’s arm.”

You’re silent. You suck in a deep breath, fixing an order of words in reply, when your mom cuts in again.

“I bet I’m way off. Forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, gross,” you refute, metal hangers squealing against the rail when you unfreeze. “No. Not a date. It’s, like, networking, or whatever.”

Mom snorts. “Right. Exactly.”

“Not – a date,” you repeat.

You’re relieved when she changes the subject. “Show me what you’re looking at.”

You huff, pulling the phone down and switching to FaceTime. In a second, your mom’s bright, swollen cheeks and ringlet curled hair are on the screen, and she flashes you a pearly smile.

“Was thinking maybe this…?” You angle the phone to show her a navy-blue polo shirt. “And then a white skirt?”

“Nah,” she cuts, and you flip your camera back to your face.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Too blue. You look better in neutrals. Try beige or brown. Boring colors, y’know? Blend into the walls.”

You hiss something she doesn’t need to hear under your breath and then follow it up with a slightly more polite, “Screw you.”

Her image on your screen shakes violently with how hard she laughs at herself. “I’m messing with you. You know you’ll look beautiful no matter what you choose. Wait a second, though – can you even golf?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever touched a golf club in my life.”

“Thought as much. Does Joel know you’re about to embarrass him like this?”

“He’s aware.”

“Please get him to take some videos. I gotta see this.”

“You know what,” you grumble, holding back your own laughter now, “I’m hanging up. You just solidified your place in the nursing home, you know that?”

She’s still laughing, words pushing through her cackles in desperate punches. “Wait, wait! I gotta tell you why I called you.”

“Alright, go. Thirty seconds.”

“Riley’s pregnant.”

Your face screws up. Lips curl upside down into a grimace. “Oof. Good…good for her…?”

Your mom throws her head back with a roar of laughter. “Be more enthusiastic about it. A little niece or nephew for you!”

“’s more like a…second cousin, or whatever. I bet Aunt Rose is over the moon.”

“She called me screaming this morning. I just thought you’d like to hear, being that you’re in a permanent state of baby fever.”

“Ha,” you state, blank expression never changing. It causes her to erupt into another fit of giggles. “That’s nice, I guess. For Riley. Tell her I said congrats.”

“I will. And I’ll leave out the part where you almost threw up. Alright, I’ll let you go. Good luck golfing. Come back with a hot millionaire boyfriend, maybe! Love you!”

“Yep. ‘kay. Love you. Love you, too – ‘kay – bye – bye, Mom.”

You hang up mid-laugh and her caramel cheeks disappear from the screen. You drop your phone back into your purse and slot the navy-blue polo under your arm, spinning to the rail behind you to find a skirt to go with it.

Riley, pregnant. That’s fucking insane. You two used to spend entire summers riding your bikes around your hometown, spending all of your allowance down at the mall. You swear you’re not old enough to have babies yet. Swear you’re not even old enough to be out of Mom’s house, living on your own in the city.

But then here you are, five years in, making a mental note to buy a baby gift for your cousin, on top of the pre-existing ones reminding you to message that girl who lived across the street when you were kids to say, Congrats on your engagement, and pick up a new home card for your two friends who are on their third mortgage.

Your mom finds it funny – always has. The instant repulsion you feel, the way you recoil whenever you’re asked about kids, about a partner, about a three-bed-two-bath in the suburbs with a big yard and good school nearby.

You don't think any of it's for you. And that’s fine, and every time you skate over the topic, your mom tells you it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s –

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your daydream, clutching a white skirt in your hands, “sorry. I’m sorry. No, I’m good, thanks. Sorry.”

The assistant smiles kindly and nods. Then he spins on his heel and waltzes off, disappearing behind a cardboard cutout of a golfer mid-swing.

It’s not lost on you, by the way – what your mom said. Sounds an awful lot like a date. You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t also crossed your mind. Joel, wanting you there with him. Giving you his card to buy somethin’ nice, which, after the last week, you translate roughly as: something I’ll like. Something he’ll see, and his second thought will be ripping it off your body.

His first thought will be what you’d look like taking it off for him.

And for that reason, you slip the short skirt under your arm beside the polo, and head across the store to find some more stuff to waste Joel’s money on.

----------

Rand pulls up by the curb a few yards down from Ace’s, where you’re sat on a bench enjoying an ice cream. He rolls the window down and lowers his black sunglasses.

“You bein’ paid for this?” he asks, grinning.

You nod, gleeful. “By the hour. Want an ice cream?”

He snorts when you hold Joel’s black card up between two fingers, tilting it in the sunlight. And then he puts the car in park, climbs out, and jaunts over to the ice cream cart by your bench.

He orders a three-scoop cone, and you nod in approval when he sits down alongside you, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“Respect it,” you say, cheersing your own half-finished cone against his.

----------

When you get back to work, Joel’s already changed into a crisp, clean golfing outfit. It weakens your knees a little when you saunter into his office.

A long-sleeved, dark polo shirt that shows off every curve and flex of his toned arms, paired with gray, just-tight-enough trousers. And pristine white shoes so sharp and clean you’d swear he’d had them polished just for the occasion.

You ignore the way your head lightens at the sight of him and throw yourself into the chair to his right, white back from Ace’s falling between your ankles.

“Alright, Tom, thanks for lettin’ me know,” he says, arms folded, sat back against his desk. He leans back, places the phone back in its cradle, and looks you up and down. “Have fun?”

You shrug, leaning forward to pick a piece of lint from his thigh. “Didn’t know what to get for the most part, so there’s probably stuff I don’t need in there.”

He squints down at his cell phone. “Like, uh…Duke’s Scoops?”

You stare back at him, mirroring his cheeky smirk. Your leg swings, arms cross over your chest, covering the way your breath falters. He’s seen the transactions.

“You gonna grudge me three dollars on an ice cream, Miller?”

“Six fifty,” he mutters, glancing down at his phone again to double check. His tongue runs across his top lip. You want to replace it with yours. “So…that’s at least two ice creams, pretty girl.”

“It’s a hot day. Rand deserved something to cool down. We sat on a bench in the shade ‘n had a nice chat. He taught me how to swing. Verbally,” you add, when Joel’s eyebrows lift.

“Taught you how to swing,” he echoes, and you nod.

“Did you know he used to compete? Junior league?”

He pouts his bottom lip. “Mighta come up in the, what, fifteen years since I met him?”

You beam in reply, standing up and hooking your fingers through the string handles of your shopping bag. “I’m gonna go get changed now.”

“Could just get changed in the car on the way, ‘s a thirty-minute drive.”

You lean in close, eyes flitting over to Martha’s desk to make sure she’s not watching. Your lips brush softly against his ear. “I don’t wanna take any time away from other stuff we could get up to,” you murmur, and Joel’s hand locks around yours, attempting to pull you back as you skip off.

“Be right back,” you call, letting the door fall shut on his suggestive smirk, his tight trousers, and the hard bulge beneath them.

You return five minutes later in your getup. Joel has much the same reaction as you did with him, though he’s not half as good at hiding it. He sits upright in his chair, fingers tight around the armrests.

“Uhuh,” he says, eyes diving to your legs and then resurfacing somewhere around your chest. “Let me just –” he leans over to his phone, “– call Drew, let ‘im know we ain’t comin’…”

“Shut up,” you scoff. “Looks good, though, right?”

Joel’s eyes are still trained on your bare thighs, one crossed over the other. “Looks…better than good.”

You bat your eyelashes. “Still mad about the ice cream?”

“No, ma’am. Not mad at all.”

He stands, slinging both his bag and yours over his shoulder, and walks around his desk to meet you. You give him one final warning.

“You know I’ve never played golf before, right?”

“I know,” he affirms.

“So…bringing me is kinda pointless. I am not gonna bring anything worthwhile.”

“You in that outfit,” Joel mutters – and as he passes by, he makes sure to brush his swollen crotch up against your ass – “makes it worthwhile already.”

----------

Aspen Heights is a hundred and fifty-acre course, vibrant green fairways rolling over hilly land laid out like crinkles in a sheet of green felt. Rand drives slowly up to the clubhouse, gravel crackling under the tires of the Rolls as you and Joel lean over to stare at the landscape – the unkempt, sprawling wild plants guarding the pristine course, the bunkers like giant splotches of white paint on the grass.

You turn back and look to Joel, brows knitting in an expression which could be translated as amazement, could be intrigue, or could simply be: What the fuck are we doing here?

He mirrors it, shaking his head. And it makes you laugh.

“What?” he asks, smiling.

“You could buy this place, easy. Don’t act like you don’t fit in.”

“If you think I fit in here,” he grunts, getting out of the now parked car, “you think very highly of me, angel.”

He doesn’t deny that he could afford to buy it.

The clubhouse is…much the same. Huge, grand, surrounded by a wide-open porch and fronted by a dome-shaped room, paneled by windows that reflect the scene before them.

You follow Joel’s lead, climbing the steps to the double doors by his side, staying close enough that he can guide you with a bump of his arm against yours, but far enough apart that it doesn’t look like you’re showing up together.

Inside, you follow two smartly-dressed attendants through to a room finished in dark oak, shining wooden floors under bare-bulb light figures, a solid marble bar in the center and six perfectly symmetrical high tables surrounding it.

You glance nervously around the room. Drew’s stood over by the windows with three other men – a tan guy with a white baseball cap on, fluorescent orange polo buttoned up to his neck, a shorter guy with tight black curls, fiddling with the cap of a bottle of water, and finally, a guy with dark hair combed within an inch of its life into perfect place, shoulders almost ripping through his blue polo. He looks like he’s been copy-pasted straight from a magazine called Golf Weekly, or something.

Joel takes one step across a patterned rug and Drew notices you both. He breaks off from the group.

“Hey, man.” He grins at Joel and leans over to shake his hand – well, it’s more of that slap-hand thing. They slap each other’s palms, fingers lock, one quick shake of the wrists together, and then a nod of the head. You know?

Then he leans over to you, kisses your cheek. “Sorry it’s just us guys,” he says, hand on your arm. He looks over to the three men by the window, now looking out over the course and pointing. “My girlfriend was supposed to be joining us, but she got called in to work. You two woulda gotten along, you ‘n Rach.”

You smile warmly. “That’s okay. Thanks for asking me.”

“You play much?” Drew asks, leading you both over to the windows.

You shake your head and Joel breathes a laugh.

“Total beginner,” you admit.

Drew bats a hand. “We’ll show you the ropes. This is, uh, this is Steve,” he points to Fluorescent Orange, “Caleb,” Water Bottle holds his hand out to shake yours, “and that’s Daniel.”

Up close, Daniel’s handsome. Sharp jawline, shadowed by the beginnings of stubble, a dimple in the center of his chin. He steps forward, holding a hand out, and you take it. His palm engulfs yours and squeezes – soft but sure. And then you pull away.

The men all nod to Joel, who probably nods back from behind you, and then catches you gently in his arm, cradling it around your back out of view of the others.

“We’ll be getting started soon,” Drew says, “they’re just fixing up a few buggies for us.”

Joel nods, lets go of you, and crosses his arms. You knot your hands awkwardly at your waist. He stays right by your side, though, which you’re grateful for. The last thing you need is another Jean-Marc, some cloaked assistant swooping you off away from the comfort of Joel.

“How’s business, Joel? Drew was tellin’ us about some deal you’re tryna nail.”

Daniel’s eyes are sharp, cerulean blue drilling deep into the warm brown of Joel’s, which calmly stare back. He looks a little younger than Joel, maybe on the cusp of forty, only a few light strands of grey through his deep brown fringe. There’s no wedding ring on his finger. You don’t know why you’re even looking at that.

Joel doesn’t reveal much in the way of answers. Typical of him – or typical of the Joel he is to the rest of the world. “Yeah, ‘s good. Just takin’ my time, we’re workin’ on it.”

Daniel nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He crosses his arms, biceps bulging, and then rounds on you.

“You gotta be run off your feet, chasing after him all day, huh?”

You tilt your head toward Joel. “He keeps me busy, yeah.”

Daniel leans into you, laughter crooning from his lips. It wobbles you a little, forces you one step nearer Joel’s side. You smile back, as pleasant as you can muster the courage, and he eventually leans away.

Before he can ask another question, Drew’s calling you all over to the sliding patio doors. Daniel hops back a step, nods to you, and says, “After you.”

“Thanks, Dan,” Joel cuts, stepping into the space the blue-eyed man had left specifically for you, sweeping you off as he goes.

----------

There isn’t anything about golf that intrigues you. Not even remotely. You’ve never watched it, never wanted to play it – the most you’ve dabbled in it is minigolf, and even that became a fucking bore after two anniversary dates in a row there with Blake.

Still, you watch patiently and politely as the men take their shots one by one, starting with Drew, all the way through to Daniel, who gives his driver a quick shine with a gloved hand before stepping up. On your left, Joel scoffs quietly to himself.

Daniel swings back, and his biceps swell under the tight sleeves of his shirt. You watch as his arms follow through, sending the ball hurtling through the air and well past its three predecessors.

Joel nudges your elbow.

“Ow,” you mumble, running a hand over the skin.

He gives you a perplexed look. “I said, you can use my clubs. You in there?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a little too defensively. “Just…paying attention.”

“Hm.”

The men on your right groan as Daniel strides back over to join them, a satisfied grin across his face. Your eyes trace him as he leans on his driver, one white pant leg crossing over the other.

When you turn back to the tee box, Joel’s lifting his own club from his bag. His broad, muscled shoulders flex under the dark material of his shirt; his tall figure walks over to the tee, delicate fingers dancing along the handle of the club, and he clears his throat.

And suddenly, the memory of Daniel and his stupid biceps is dust in the wind.

Joel takes, like, half a practice swing. Doesn’t even have to aim, not really. Just pulls his arms back, sucks his waist in, and goes for it.

His ball lands a couple meters ahead of Daniel’s. And you wonder when the fuck golf became this sexy.

He turns back and runs his tongue over his top lip, breathing a little heavy. The sight drives you fucking insane for the second time today. And then he’s smiling at you, jerking his head in a gesture for you to join him.

You step forward, a little shy, a little hot, and wander mutely over to him.

“I got you,” he says, and reaches for your wrist.

You move to take the driver from his hand and Joel clicks his teeth, shaking his head.

“Said I got you,” he utters, and pulls your body into his, shelling around you. His beard scratches lightly against your ear.

“Joel,” you whisper, laughing nervously and tossing a quick glance back over to the men standing just feet away. Drew just said something apparently hilarious. Caleb gives him a solid whack on the shoulder and doubles over laughing. Steve’s watching a butterfly float by.

“They ain’t watchin’,” Joel says, curving his arms around yours and fixing your hands on the handle of the club. “s just you ‘n me.”

You wriggle under his grasp and feel the hum of laughter from his chest between your shoulders, the weight of his belt riding on your ass. Your cheeks heat when his chin rests on your collarbone.

“Alright,” he says, hands tightening around your own. “You’re gonna line it up, stand with your legs a little apart, little more…”

The toe of his shoe taps your heel and you widen your stance.

“Good girl,” he whispers. A pulse shakes through your body. “Now, on your backswing, you’re gonna want your left shoulder under your chin, ‘n your hands above your right shoulder. Yeah?”

“Got it,” you mumble, so unconvincing that it makes you laugh after you’ve said it.

He gives your waist a tiny squeeze and steps back, watching as you carefully lift the club and curve it around your shoulders. You hear him from behind.

“’attagirl. Keep your knees bent, you got it.”

You take one good swing, and hit the ball on your first try, but it’s…it’s bad, for sure. It’s pretty terrible. The ball lands on this side of the fairway, muddled in amongst the longer grass of the rough. But it’s your first ever shot – least not with colored balls and spinning windmills in the way – and so when you turn back to Joel with a huge beam across your lips, your expression is reflected in his.

“Good job!” he chuckles, stalking back over to you.

“Good job,” you echo with a laugh, handing him the club. You twist and hold your hand up to shield your eyes, staring down the course. “Look where it is, ‘n look where yours are.”

He glances back over to where your sad little ball sits. “We’ll get a few drinks down those guys,” he whispers, hand on your back. “See how good they are in a few holes’ time.”

----------

You’re back in the clubhouse after finishing the eighteenth hole on something of a high. Joel managed to worsen the accuracy of your competitors only so much – your end of the deal was to improve as the round went on, which you try to argue you technically did, given that you began to land your shots on the fairway around hole seven, but your argument is let down by Joel’s reminder that, on hole thirteen, he had to dig your ball out of the bunker for you.

“And I am eternally grateful to you for agreeing to never fucking talk about it again,” you say through gritted teeth, and he laughs.

“Last time, promise.”

Drew joins the pair of you at your table and slaps an arm down on Joel’s shoulder.

“Your round, asshole.”

Joel grumbles, gives your elbow a cursory tap, and slides off to the bar. Drew takes his seat, nudges your arm.

“I am impressed,” he tells you, slurring his words a little.

“Yeah?” you ask, and he nods. “I didn’t think I was so good.”

“Oh,” he shakes his head, “you weren’t. I meant I’m impressed you stuck it out.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss.

He snorts, head bobbing with the alcohol bubbling in his blood. “I’m kidding. You were great, for your first time. I’m really glad you came.”

“Me, too,” you admit.

Drew opens his mouth to say something else when a clatter from across the clubhouse interrupts him. You turn at the same time to see a waiter on his ass at the other side of the room. His metal tray rattles against the wooden floor, flutes smashed in a pool of champagne by his side.

“Oh, shoot,” Drew mumbles, setting his glass down on the table.

You push off your stool, sliding your drink alongside his, but he motions for you to stay.

“I got it,” he says, palm lightly tapping your wrist. “I got it.”

He shuffles off to the waiter, now being helped to his feet by Caleb. The last you see is Drew bending to grab the silver tray, before he’s swept out of your view by –

“Poor guy,” Daniel muses, fist locked tight around a lager. He pulls Joel’s stool out and slips onto the cushion, elbow brushing against yours.

You readjust awkwardly in your own chair and pull on the hem of your skirt.

“So,” Daniel clears his throat, the bottom of his glass scraping along the wooden tabletop, “how’d you find your first round of golf?”

You smile politely. “Uh, good. Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to be much, but it wasn’t too scary.”

He chuckles. “Yeah? Think you’ll be back?”

Your shoulders jerk with a shrug. “Maybe.”

He nods and dives headfirst into some long ramble about golf – something about the time he brought his sister and her kids here and how much worse they were than you, so you should really be proud of yourself, and he’d love to see you around here again sometime – but you’re only half listening. You’re stealing glances over at the bar, hunting for a chiseled jawline and monochrome beard.

You spot him locked between Steve and some other guy in all black, waiting for the bartender to draw up his order of drinks. He’s nodding, saying words back to the pair, but keeping his eyes locked on you.

You give him half a smile, half a, There you are, what the hell’s taking you so long? Can you come the fuck back? and hope he reads the words across your face.

“…so, as long as you stick with what you know, it’s actually a really enjoyable game.”

Daniel stares at you blankly, waiting for a response.

“Sure, sure,” you answer, after too long a pause to convince him that you were listening. “Sorry,” you close your eyes and give your head a shake, “was just checking on that waiter.”

Daniel nods. Follows the trail of your eyeline across the room, and looks back to you. “So, uh,” he clears his throat nervously, “I know this place downtown – Italian, has this big open rooftop seating area. If you’re interested, I’d, uh…I’d love to take you, sometime.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, frozen. Like, actually convinced the air in your lungs has turned to ice, frozen. Your eyes probably look like they’re about to burst out of your head, your mouth stuck in a dumb O-shape as you search frantically for the words to form a reply.

He smiles awkwardly. Watches as you blink straight back at him.

“I…” you manage, after what feels like fucking hours. “…That’s – so nice, Daniel, I – really – I’m flattered. Um…”

He interrupts, and it’s like a cold flannel on an acid burn. “Oh, Jesus. I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry.”

“No,” you shake your head, suddenly animated, “no, listen. It’s – you’re –”

Daniel’s still apologizing. “Are you – sorry, I don’t mean to assume – are you and – you and Joel…?”

His head jerks. One eyebrow cocked. His fingers press into the table, making counter-rotating circles across the gleaming surface.

You stare from his hands to his face, open-mouthed. “N-no,” you tell him, with a single shake of your head. And then you realize he’s being serious. “No, no, we’re not – no, absolutely not. We’re just – friends.”

“Right,” he says, brows knitting. “It’s just – the guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time I’ve been sat here, so I just figured…maybe…”

You follow Daniel’s gaze across to the bar again, where Joel’s still standing, this time with Drew at his side. He’s mouthing Yeah, in reply to whatever Steve’s gabbing about, but not fucking listening to a word of it.

“No,” you say again, looking Joel dead in the eye. “We’re just friends.”

You turn to look back at the slick-haired man by your side, and he nods.

“But, uh,” you look into your glass, the ice suddenly more interesting than Daniel’s hopeful expression, “you’re a really nice guy, and I appreciate you asking, but I’m…not…exactly looking for anything right now. I’m – yeah.”

“Right – no, absolutely,” he says again, flustered. His fingers wrap tight around his glass and he shifts as if to stand. “That’s absolutely fine. I just thought I’d ask, y’know?”

He laughs nervously. You feel kinda guilty. He’s being so decent about it, and he means well, but you really just wish he would…fuck off.

He isn’t given the option.

Drew comes bounding over like a golden retriever and leans in to Daniel, another freshly poured pint swinging in his fist. “You’ve improved your game, Gilbert,” he sings in your suitor’s ear. “Must be years since the last time you scored an eagle!”

Daniel copies Drew’s guffawing, nodding along. He opens his mouth to say something, but Drew jumps ahead, offering to buy him a drink to celebrate.

“C’mon, my treat,” the blond tells him, and swaggers off towards the bar, a vice grip on the blue polo shirt.

The shadow of Joel slips around your back as soon as the two figures are out of view. He brushes against your shoulders and nudges his stool nearer to yours with his foot, before sitting back into it with a sigh.

You stare at him, smirking behind your hand, elbow resting on the arm of your chair. He catches your eye and watches you for a few seconds.

Sorry, he mouths eventually, and sneaks a hand onto your thigh.

You lean into him, feeling the weight of Daniel and his proposal and his fucking Italian restaurant fall like insignificant grains off sand off your shoulders. You trace a finger along the shape of Joel’s knuckles. “I feel bad,” you whisper.

“The hell for?” his voice asks, a deep rumble by your temple.

You shrug, looking up at him. “He’s a nice guy. He asked me on a date.”

“And did you want to go?”

Your face pulls into a wince, lips flinching. “Not really.”

“Then what’d I tell you about doin’ stuff you don’t want to?”

You don’t reply. Your mind sails back to that boat ride in Paris, when he basically told you off for feeling guilty about rejecting a fucking marriage proposal, never mind a downtown dinner. It doesn’t bear thinking about what fantastic rant he’s currently bottling up where Daniel’s feelings are concerned.

Joel’s a no-nonsense guy, you know this. Known it for as long as you’ve known him. He’s rational, he’s pragmatic. He says what he thinks, and you deal with however you feel about it. He doesn’t waste time making anyone feel better with lies or cushion-soft landings. His yes is yes and his no is no. And sure, maybe there’s something in there that you’d do well to adopt, too.

But there are inconsistencies to him that you can’t work out – yet. Something that makes him break his rules. He still hasn’t shared whatever the hell Jean-Marc said to him that made him sweep you off of that terrace minutes later. He won’t admit why he keeps dragging you along to these so-called ‘work’ events.

Part of you wants to break him open, chip away at him like the sculptures in the Louvre until his beating heart is in your hands, the rhythmic pulses sharing secrets like it’s speaking in Morse code.

And part of you – bigger, stronger, wiser – hopes you never get close.

When you come back to the room, sound of glasses clinking and men’s roaring laughter washing away any thoughts of jilted boyfriends or lonely golfers, Joel lowers his head to look you in the eye.

“You wanna go?”

You nod, scrunching your nose. “That okay?”

He leans in close, as close as he reckons he can get without drawing attention, and smiles softly. “You coulda asked to go home the minute we pulled up ‘n it woulda been okay. Let’s go.” And he takes your hand.

Drew’s slung over the shoulders of some argyle-patterned men who you’re sure have spent more time drinking than they have actually on the course. He’s lifting his glass, about to toast to life, or love, or fucking golf, when Joel sneaks by behind him, never letting go of your hand.

The Rolls Royce is sat in park at the bottom of the stone steps, hazard lights blinking. Joel holds the door open as you hop in under the twinkling ceiling.

“Well?” Rand asks, looking in the mirror. You respond with a toss of your head, squinting. “Did you keep your feet straight like I taught you?” he demands.

“Honestly, I was more focused on making sure I hit the ball, Rand.”

He snorts. “Office, Joel?”

“Office, Rand.”

As the partition closes, Joel’s hand comes up to cup the back of your head. You lean into it, tilting to look at him properly through eyes glazed with tiredness, alcohol, relief to be back in only his company.

And he’s staring back, eyes flitting from yours down to your mouth when you speak.

“Did you…did you send Drew over to get Daniel away from me?”

Joel’s eyes stay fixed on your lips. “You didn’t want me to do that?”

You ignore him. You want him to answer your question. “Did you?”

And then he looks up. Searches your eyes for a second, and then says, “Yeah.”

Your stare falls down into his lap. To his closed fist, resting on his thigh. His fingers are stroking the back of your head in lulling movements. You focus on the shine of his watch. And horror sets in.

“You wanted him to stay?” Joel asks, bringing you up for air for half a second.

You’re quiet when you reply. “…No. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.”

And that’s somehow scarier. That you didn’t want this decent, attractive-enough man around you. That the entire time he sat nipping your ear, your eyes, your hands, your heart was searching all over the room for Joel. Listening for the twang of his voice, looking for him out of your peripheral. Counting every second until he sauntered back to your side.

It’s rolling. The feeling. Like a snowball gaining speed down a mountain. Starts off a twinge, a plucking somewhere buried deep in your heart, and turns and turns and turns until it’s a weight behind your ribcage. Unable to burst free.

You take Joel’s wrist and move his hand to the curve of your thigh, then lock your fingers between his. He lets you. You lift your free hand to the cut of his jawline, training your fingers down his bristled beard, and he lets you do that, too. And when you pull his face down to meet yours, lips warm and wet and starving, he opens his mouth and slips his tongue past your teeth.

Your hands are knotting in his hair. You’re leaning back, trying to pull him down on top of you, but he’s stronger. His hands take a strong grip of your waist and hoist you over the center console and into his lap, your knees pressing into the soft leather either side of his hips.

“You gonna tell me what you’re up to, pretty girl?” he asks, tipping his head back. His shirt smells like his cologne. Fresh, sharp, clean. It sends your head spinning.

Your lips find his jawline and nip kisses and bites along the sharp ridge. He tastes like whiskey, tastes like the sun, tastes like he did four days ago. Sweet and smoky and laced with something intoxicating.

Joel sighs. His hands knead into your hips, and he pushes you down, grinding you into his body.

He’s hard. Already.

“Feels like you already know,” you mutter, still peppering his neck with kisses.

He laughs the cocky way he always does when you’re on this road, heading this way. His hands find your hair again and he pulls your head back, drawing a whine from your lips.

“You gonna take it like a good girl? Take daddy’s cock?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, rubbing your damp panties over the bulge in his pants.

Joel unzips his trousers and shifts the waistband loose. You move his hands and peel back the top of his boxers yourself, and he watches from under heavy lids as you take him in both hands.

“That’s – my girl,” he chokes, eyes following your pumping fists. His head tips back with a quiet groan.

You push yourself up, shuffle nearer to him until your cunt hovers over his cock, and pull your panties to the side. You’re fucking soaked, already wet enough that Joel’s thick head catches on the cusp of your entrance as you line him up, stealing a gasp from your lips.

You sink, slowly, letting him push through into your sex inch by inch, feeling yourself pull open around him. Your brows furrow, jaw falls wide at the white-hot feeling between your legs, and you look up to see your expression reflected in Joel’s.

His hands clutch at your hips. “So – fucking – tight,” he hums, eyes rolling.

You lock your knees and begin bouncing, resting your hands on top of Joel’s. You’re steadily picking up pace, each nudge of his tip against the edge of your pussy sending another spasm of stars across your quickly-blinding vision.

“Off,” Joel mumbles against your lips, fingers pinching the fabric of your shirt.

“Huh?” you ask back, looking down to where he’s already peeling it up your torso.

“Just the skirt,” he pants, desperate, “nothin’ else.”

You lift your arms and let him pull the polo from your body, tossing it onto the carpeted floor. Joel unhooks your bra and pulls the lace down, before he’s angling his hips up again, hitting you somewhere deep enough inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

And then his lips are on your naked chest, sinking into the valley between your breasts, kissing over to your nipple. His tongue flicks over and over until the bud is pointed, enough to take it between his lips and graze over it with his teeth.

Your thighs are burning. Your skirt sits bunched up on your hips, only just covering your ass as Joel’s hands press into the supple skin, lifting you effortlessly up and down. You melt into his touch, let him do the work for a few seconds as he sits back in his seat to watch your body on his.

“My good – girl,” he groans, voice thick with arousal. “You know how pretty you look right now?”

You hook your hand around his neck, draw him in a little nearer. Shake your head with a filthy smile on your lips. “Tell me.”

Joel laughs shakily. “Wanna – fuckin’ – show you off to everyone, babygirl.”

He’s kissing you slowly, his tongue pressed to yours, when you pull back and separate your lips. He’s planted a seed in your mind.

Joel’s hips stop moving immediately. “Y’okay?” he asks, light hand on the side of your head, keeping your eyes on him.

You nod, breathing heavy. “Mhm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “just…”

You look down to your skirt, your bare thighs spread over Joel’s lap. The thought flips over and over in your head, unsure if it’s brave enough to trot down to your lips and show itself to Joel.

“Baby?”

It’s Joel, though. Same guy who bent you over his desk, same guy who fucked you senseless feet away from his flight attendants. Same guy who, a few days ago, you were in this exact position with: writhing in next to nothing on his lap.

Fuck it. Right?

“…want him to watch,” you say, in a small voice.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change, save for the way his eyes narrow. “Want who to watch?”

You look at him a beat longer, and it sinks in. He gets it.

“Yeah, babygirl? That what you want?”

“Mhm,” you reply, shifting with him when he starts moving his hips again. The car moves forward, pushing you closer into him. “Want him to – watch you fuck me.”

“Dirty girl. You want him to watch you cum for daddy, pretty girl?”

“Ye-ah,” you moan, Joel’s hands now pushing your waist down, the stretch of his cock deep inside you almost burning with pleasure.

“Yeah, you do,” he whispers, watching as your face pulls and your brows knit together.

“Only cum for you, daddy,” you whimper.

“I know, darlin’, I know. Close your eyes.”

By this point, Joel’s assured tone, his strong hands on your hips, his fucking length buried inside you, are enough to convince you. You just do as you’re fucking told – as soon as you’re fucking told.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder and feeling him turn, his lips pressed close to your ear.

“Good girl. He there?”

The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare.

“Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel.

“He watching?”

“Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily.

“Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

You focus on the feeling of Joel, cock fucking deep into you, nuzzling against your walls and splitting you open; the sound of his voice in your ear, gently encouraging, sweetly reassuring; the smell of him, the taste of him, the heat from his skin, and…the sight of the steel-blue stare behind your eyes. The tight polo shirt. The round biceps. Watching you.

Watching you be fucked by someone else. Watching you come undone for someone else. For the same guy whose stare he couldn’t shake while he so much as talked to you. Watching your face as it twists in filthy pleasure; listening to you make sounds, whisper words, whisper daddy in the ear of your fucking boss; have him whisper words back that make your cunt tighten around him and push the image of Daniel two steps back with shock.

“Tell me again, angel.” Joel’s voice starts to swipe Daniel away.

Your eyes peel open, the backseat of the Rolls a blur as you roll your head back. “What, daddy?” you whimper.

His hand takes your jaw, holds you in line with his own. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

You breathe a laugh. It pulls across your mouth two seconds later. “M-me.”

Joel mirrors your grin. His hips buck once. You cry out. “Yeah?”

“Uhuh,” you yelp, getting louder as he snaps up into you deeper, faster, harder.

You’re drawing around him, warm and wet, feeling him deep in your stomach as your movements become sloppy and staggered. Pleasure swirls like a whirlpool between your legs, tightening, tightening, tightening.

Joel’s face sharpens into your vision. His eyes are fixed on yours. You watch his lips shape the words good girl, before he pulls your foreheads together, noses flush against one another.

“’n who fucks it like this?” he asks into your mouth.

You take a deep breath, inhaling his question, and let a satisfied exhale carry your answer back out.

“Just y-you, daddy.”

And you both fall.

You rock back and forth as the feeling drowns you both; open-mouthed, silently screaming, eyes trained on one another as you ride out your high together.

You throw your head back, eyes losing focus just inches under the stars until they blur into little white halos. Your arms lift up to lean against the tiny dotted lights, steadying yourself.

Joel’s hands clamp around your waist, holding you down on his cock as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside you, mixing with your own and filling you up. Your name escapes his lips hand in hand with a deep, throaty moan.

You body aches. Your cunt throbs around him, still humming with pleasure as your body curls again, falling forward until your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down your spine, lips press featherlight kisses to your ear, shhing, whispering praise, bringing you slowly back into the car with him.

“Daddy…” you whisper into the soft cotton of his shirt, and you feel the weight of his cheek on your head.

His hands cup your cheeks and he lifts your face until you’re staring at one another. Your eyes are tired, you can hardly keep them open, but Joel holds you upright.

“We gotta stop this,” he whispers, and your foreheads fall together again as you laugh. “I’m gettin’ too old for it, baby.”

He’s still buried deep inside, slowly softening, but you don’t want him to go. Not yet. He reaches for your bra, helps you slip it back on, and you bend back to take your shirt in two fingers.

When you’re dressed, you sink back into him.

Joel laughs, brushing the wisps of your hair disturbed by pulling your shirt over your head. “That what you were thinkin’ about? While he was talkin’ to you?”

You smile lazily. Shake your head no. “Was thinking…about you taking me to the Italian he was talking about.”

Joel’s smile grows bigger. Biggest you think you’ve ever seen him smile before. It breaks into a laugh, a toothy chuckle, and then he kisses you.

You melt into him, tongue and teeth crashing against one another. Joel’s open palms surf along your thighs, molding around your skin. He squeezes the dimpled skin on your hips between his fingers.

“Tonight work for you?” he asks, and you giggle.

“No,” you tell him, “I got Martha’s to-do list to work through.”

He nods knowingly, eyes closing. “You want a hand with it?”

You smirk. “Can we fool around in your office between items?”

His head tips back against the headrest with an obvious expression. “What do you think?”

The car slows to a stop and Rand’s knuckles rap against the glass of the partition. You slip off of Joel’s lap, fix yourselves quickly, and then amble off back to the top floor, still a little weak in the knees.

“Home time, Martha,” Joel calls almost as soon as the elevator doors pull open.

“Excuse me?” she yells back.

He laughs. “I’m lettin’ you go early. It ain’t fair that we get to go have our fun ‘n you’re stuck here ‘til five. Let us know what needs done, ‘n then you can get goin’.”

“Ain’t that chivalrous?” Martha beams, blinking at you.

You saunter by her with a smile and toss your bag under your desk. You spin around, brace yourself against the arms of your chair, and throw yourself back against the comfortable leather.

“So,” she announces, almost fucking skipping over to you with her trusty notepad back in her clutches. “I whittled it down to just six things, so it shouldn’t keep you much longer than five o’clock…”

You lift your brows and nod along.

“…as long as you don’t find anything to distract yourselves with, that is.”

----------

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dixons-sunshine · 6 days

Note

hi I just wanted to start with I really love your writing its just so good. I do have a request and if your not interested its okay it is angst but with a possible happy ending.

so its a daryl x reader where before the apocalypse r and daryl were together and they ended things right before everything went to shit and then when the group gets to Alexandria r is there and she has kid/s (maybe twins?? boy and girl??) so turns out r found out she was pregnant right when everything started happening so daryl didn't know and idk he like puts two and two together yk? and if you're okay with it can she be hispanic/ latin (maybe that can be one of the reasons they broke up bc yk merl is an ass to POC)

anyways sorry if that was a lot or didn't make sense

anyways have a good day/night much love <3

Two Plus Two Makes Four | Daryl Dixon x Hispanic!Fem!Reader

Summary: A week before the apocalypse, Daryl was forced to break up with you by Merle, leaving you heartbroken, but not alone—soon after he left, you found out you were pregnant. Now, two years later, you come face to face again with the man that broke your heart, and he finds out something shocking.

Genre: Angst, some fluff towards the end.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: Sorry this took so long to finish. I hope this is good enough to make up for the wait! Please note that I used Google translate for this, so the translations may be incorrect or awkward! Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes! (Translations will be at the bottom.)

—

“Kids?! Ya were pregnant and ya didn't fuckin' tell me?!” Daryl bellowed angrily, grabbing your arm to halt you from walking away from him.

You ripped your hand from his grip. “¡No me toques!” You spun around, furiously pointing a finger in your ex boyfriend's direction. “Don't you even dare put this on me, Dixon! You left. You walked out because you cared more about your brother's opinion than you did me! I'm sorry I wasn't gonna baby trap a man who didn't wanna be with me!”

“I deserved to know! I missed two years of their lives 'cause ya didn't tell me! I could of been there fer 'em, for ya, but ya chose to keep it from me!” Daryl exclaimed angrily, following you as you walked into your kitchen. “How could ya keep tha' from me?!”

“You chose to run to your brother the first chance you got! Four years down the drain in an instant for that racist asshole. I didn't owe you anything after that, maldito idiota!”

Daryl stopped in his tracks, instantly regretting starting up this particular argument. You spoke nothing but the truth. You didn't owe him anything. After all, it was him who walked out on you. He chose to let Merle's judgement get to him and influence his relationship. Hell, if it weren't for Merle, he would have proposed to you. He already had a ring picked out and everything back then, but he let Merle ruin everything. It was his own stupidity that cost him two years of his children's lives.

“Mama?”

At the sound of a small, timid voice coming from behind you, both you and Daryl turned and came face to face with your kids, your two year old twins. Your son, Luka, was nervously looking up at you and Daryl while your daughter, Camilla, was standing behind him, holding his hand.

Daryl was struck by the similarities both children shared with him. They both had his eyes, and his hair colour. They were spitting images of him. There was no doubt in his mind that these two children were his. He wasn't blind. He could see they were.

“Everything's fine, amores. I'm just having a conversation with Mr Dixon.”

Camilla stepped forward, her eyes lighting up with wonder. She looked up at Daryl, a smile spreading across her chubby cheeks. “Dixon?” she asked, pointing up at him. “Papa?”

Daryl was surprised. He looked up at you in confusion, silently asking for an explanation. You sent him a strained smile, forcing a relaxed look in front of your children.

“I always talk about you. They deserve to know who their father is. Well, who he was before he left me,” you explained, looking back down at Camilla and Luka.

“Papa?” Luka asked as he stepped forward, his blue eyes that reflected Daryl's sparkling with wonder. “Our papa?”

Daryl looked at you for permission, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. You nodded, silently giving him permission. He was their dad, after all, and he had just as much right to have a relationship with them as you, even if he did leave you. However, that was between him and you, and your children didn't deserve to be denied a relationship with their dad because of it.

The archer bent down, looking between Luka and Camilla as they stared at him in wonder. “Yeah, m'yer papa. M'sorry I wasn't here before, but m'here now. I ain't goin' nowhere.”

Daryl wasn't sure how much of his speech they understood, if they understood anything at all, but it didn't matter. The speech was mainly meant for you. It was to let you know that he wanted to be a part of their lives, and there was just about nothing that could stop him from that.

Camilla and Luka, as if having some sort of twin power, both simultaneously rushed forward and into his arms. Daryl wasted no time in hugging them back, somehow managing to pick them both up and rest them comfortably in his arms. It was relatively late, nearly eight at night and well past their bed times, so they rested their heads on his shoulders, making Daryl's heart swell with fondness. They didn't even know him, only having heard of him through the stories you told them, but they already trusted him. And even though he just found out he had kids, he would kill for them.

“We need to talk, sunshine. This ain't somethin' we can just sweep under the rug,” he told you, allowing you to take Luka from his arms to lighten the load. He adjusted his hold on Camilla, letting out a fond chuckle when he heard her yawn and nuzzle her face deeper into his shoulder.

You let out a sigh and nodded. “I know. But let's get these dormilones to bed first.”

Approximately half an hour later, the twins were tucked into bed and asleep. You and Daryl were back in the kitchen, both having a glass of wine in your hands—liquid courage for the conversation you were about to have.

“M'sorry fer leavin' ya,” Daryl broke the silence first, nervously sloshing the liquid around in his glass. “I dun' even know why I did. Merle's opinions should've never influenced our relationship. I loved ya. I still do. I regret leavin' ya more than anythin' else in my life.”

You inhaled deeply, willing the tears away. For two years you had wanted an explanation, and now you were finally getting one. However, hearing him admit that he still loved you, that you weren't stupid for still loving the man who broke your heart, was both relieving and hurtful.

“You hurt me, Daryl,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I get that Merle was your brother, but you should've never let him influence you like that. I had to go through everything alone. Do you know how hard it was being pregnant and fighting for my life against the dead out there? Do you know how terrified I was? I was lucky enough to find Alexandria a couple of days before I gave birth. If I didn't, I would've given birth out there with the walkers. I probably would've died. Camilla and Luka too.”

Daryl felt the guilt gnawing at his insides. He really hated himself at that moment. “M'sorry, sweetheart. I really fuckin' am. I promise I won't leave again. I dun' expect you to give me a second chance. God knows I dun' deserve it, but I promise I'll be here fer ya and the lil ones. I ain't ever gon' let ya down again, I promise.”

You gave him a small smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. You rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, something you always did whenever the two of you had a serious talk. “Give me some time, Daryl. I still love you, but I need some time to adjust to the idea of 'us' again. It's been just me and the twins for two years. As far as I knew before today, I thought I wouldn't see you ever again. Just focus on the kids for now, okay? They deserve to know their daddy.”

Daryl's lips twitched up into a smile, and he nodded. “I'll wait as long as ya need me to. I ain't ever gon' let anyone influence us ever again, I can assure ya of tha'. And I ain't ever gon' leave ya to raise 'em alone, never.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

¡No me toques!: Don't touch me!

Translations (May be incorrect! Please feel free to correct me if they are!):

maldito idiota!: fucking idiot!

amores: loves.

dormilones: sleepyheads.

188 notes · View notes

simp4wom3n · 1 year

Text

The Quiet One PtIV

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!reader

Summary: Following the tragic events in the apartment, Tara seeks Y/n's forgiveness when they eventually wake up and must navigate trying to catch Ghostface before he manages to attack them again. ~ Word Count: 7.154k ~ Warnings: descriptions of blood, wounds, and scars, swearing, hella bad grief

A/N: HI!!! pt iv ladies and gentlemen is HERE! In the process of writing this I quite literally had a dream about the plot so idk what that says about it but hey I hope you guys enjoy it - it's a bit less angsty than the last one but pt v will be the final part (plus maybe a pt vi as a nice little epilogue idk yet) anyways ENJOY <3

Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4

The sight of your body lying still, helpless on a cold hospital bed, tormented Tara as she sat cautiously by your side, the slight movement of your chest and the distant steady beeps of your pulse doing little to settle her racing thoughts.

Her tormented eyes remained focused on the large white bandage that covered most of the left side of your face, the haunting image of your bloodied body as she ran towards you flashing before her every time she dared to close her eyes.

Yes, the doctors managed to save you. To close your wound and stop your bleeding. Yet your sight had managed to slip away from you.

A new scar would now run its course up the length of your face. Your previous y/e/c eye would now turn an unsettling white, the colour and sight draining away whilst you slept peacefully unaware.

(What I'm imagining the scar looks like)

Tara's mind was plagued with images of what might've happened to you, the trauma you had gone through whilst she uselessly attempted to knock your front door down, furious at Chad for pulling her away from you. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she fidgeted in her seat, drowning in guilt.

The night of the party was a day she would likely never forget, not for the murder of her two classmates, but for the fight she had with you, or more accurately, for when she unjustly blamed you for everything going wrong in her life. She blamed you for being too overprotective, for being too clingy.

For loving her.

She had blamed one of the few people who knew the truth about her past and loved her for it. She had known the moment her words left her mouth that you were heartbroken, tears instantly welling in your eyes as your lips trembled uncontrollably.

When you ran away from her, her own heart shattered. She hadn't seen you that upset since the night at the hospital, a night you refuse to talk about to this day. Everyone you had ever loved, whether by choice or not, had abandoned you. Everyone except her.

And she asked you to let her go.

She scoffed at her own stupidity. Sure, she was distraught when she eventually followed you back to the apartment, yet instead of apologising and begging for your forgiveness, she hid in your bedroom, where she hoped no one would talk to her.

And oh, was she wrong.

She ran straight to your bedroom as soon as she got home, a small part of her hoping you were waiting for her at the end of your shared bed. Your face would light up with your infectious giddy smile before you would pull her into a warm embrace and cover her face in kisses.

Sadly, her hopes were shattered when she entered the dark room, flicking on the lights only to find you weren't there. She visibly deflated as she walked towards the dresser, picking up her inhaler and inhaling it deeply to calm her erratic breathing.

She closes her eyes as she exhales, the weight in her chest not getting any lighter. A few soft knocks on the door cause her to open her eyes and slowly glance in their direction. "You doing ok?" asks Quinn, who was standing in the doorway, a sad smile on her face. "H-how do you-" "I saw y/n come in... she's hiding in Sam's room which I figured meant you guys fought or something." She spoke softly as she walked further into the room, taking a careful seat on the edge of the bed.

"Right..." Tara exhaled, taking a seat next to Quinn as she let her face fall into her hands with a groan. "I fucked up" was all that came out of her mouth as Quinn looked at her sympathetically. "Well, if you really did 'fuck up', there's only one thing you can do." Tara looked at Quinn expectantly. "Go apologise!" Tara groaned at the thought. "She doesn't want to talk to me." "You don't know that."

A moment of silence passed before Quinn moved to stand up, causing Tara to look up and notice Chad standing in the doorway. "Just talk to her, ok?" Quinn spoke as she moved to leave the room, giving Tara one last smile before letting Chad close the door behind her. Tara watched as he placed a bottle of pills on the dresser before taking a seat next to her.

She really wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, her brain already working overtime to try and comprehend everything that had gone on within the past hour, plus the fact that she was definitely still tipsy.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as his shoulder rubbed against hers in a way that only made her cringe. "Why does everybody keep asking me that?" she responded sourly, her eyes focused on her hands that fidget in her lap. "Because we care about you.". At his cheesy words, Tara finally lifts her head to look at him, only to realise how close Chad really is.

As he turned his head to look directly into her eyes, Tara could feel his breath fanning across her face. She looked at him, frozen in confusion. She watched as his eyes glanced towards her lips before he leaned in closer.

Before she could pull away, the bedroom door flew open, allowing her to look away from him. Quinn stands in the doorway, her mouth falling open as she stares in shock.

"Did I cockblock you?"

Her question makes Tara's eyes widen, her jaw slack as she glares at Quinn in disbelief. "Wait! Did you break up with y/n?! I thought you guys just fought or...". Tara reeled in astonishment and her words. "W-What are you talking about?"

Chad's constant denial went unheard by the girl as she tried to comprehend what was happening, her chest growing so tight it became hard for her to breathe. "No, no, of course we didn't.", she stuttered. At this point, Chad was making his escape, standing up abruptly and pushing past Quinn and into the hallway, where his face went from one of irritation to guilt.

The sound of rapid footsteps broke Tara out of her trance as she shot to her feet. She bolted out her bedroom door just fast enough to catch your retreating figure, her face dropping at the realisation that you heard the conversation.

She was once again frozen to her spot, her face growing ashen as she watched in numb horror as you, once again, ran away from her.

"What have I done."

A hoarse cough echoed through the bleak room as Tara returned to reality, her eyes blinking rapidly as they turned towards your previously unmoving figure. You were awake. "Oh my god, y/n?!" She shot out of her chair and immediately rushed to your side.

Her hand found yours as she watched your face contort in discomfort, your single bloodshot eye eventually finding hers. "Hey." She spoke softly, a smile of relief appearing on her lips. "Hi." you groan drearily, reaching your hand up to wipe the exhaustion out of your eyes.

As your hand comes into contact with your face, your body jolts with pain as you whimper in surprise. "Careful!" Tara's spare hand carefully grabs yours, pulling it away from your fresh injury as your open eye meets hers in fear. "It's ok, y/n, it's ok.".

You grunt lowly in pain as you move to sit up, Tara helping you as she places pillows behind your back for you to fall back on. Once you were settled, her hand still in yours as she tenderly brushed over your knuckles, you turned your head towards her with tears falling from your eye.

"What happened?" you question in a broken whisper, hot tears trickling down your cheek. She wipes your cheek dry with her soft hand and stares at you sadly, a ghost of a smile on her face. "You'll be fine. You just... you won't be able to see with that eye." She speaks gently, gesturing subtly towards your bandage-covered eye.

You sniffle softly as you turn your face away from her with a subtle nod, a distant expression on your face as you let the news settle in. "You'll have a scar... but other than that, you're perfectly fine, and everything will be ok... I promise.".

Her eyebrows furrow slightly at the sound of your laughter. Worried that she had offended you, she proceeded to apologise, but you interrupted her, joking, "If only I had my pirate costume.". You looked back at her with a cheeky smile creeping onto your lips, your eye carrying a mischievous glint as she couldn't help but chuckle.

You would be lying to yourself if you tried to deny that you were incredibly high, the high dose of painkillers doing their job a little too well. "What? Too soon?". Tara tried her best to contain her laughter with her hand, finally breaking as your laughter once again filled her ears.

"You're really fucking high, aren't you?" she eventually asks through her easing laughter. "Mmm, maybe." you respond with a delirious grin, winking at your girlfriend before letting your head fall back onto your pillows.

Tara's previously joyful expression starts to fade as she returns to the reality of the situation. She grabs a chair from behind her and sits next to you, pulling your hand into a comforting hold before bringing it to her lips and kissing your knuckles gently.

As you tilt your head towards her, your gaze meets hers again. A few hazy memories began to flash through your head, the most devastating of which was the sight of Anika's corpse lying cold and bloody at the foot of the few-storey drop you had climbed across. Regardless, seeing your girlfriend never fails to put your mind at ease.

"I should've been there." She spoke softly, regret evident in her tone. Your forehead wrinkles slightly as you hear her words. Tara had always been confident, so seeing her riddled with remorse was unusual for you. Even so, your cheeks did warm slightly at the idea of her caring so deeply about you.

You squeeze her hand with yours as you give her a thankful smile. "You were safe... that's all I care about.". You weren't lying. You would happily have your good eye sliced if it meant she was safe - she was truly all that you cared about anymore. "I don't deserve you.", Tara whispered dejectedly, your words being no help in alleviating her guilt as her saddened gaze fell to the floor.

As much as you hated to admit it, there was a small voice in the back of your mind that agreed with her. You were never the confident one in the relationship, but at this moment in time, both of you knew that you didn't deserve any of what you had experienced throughout the past few days.

The girl had an eternal hold on you. Seeing her upset would always pull on your heartstrings no matter what you did. And at the end of the day, there was nothing you wouldn't do for the girl, and there was nothing Tara could do that would stop you from loving her, except maybe if she were Ghostface, but even then, you couldn't promise anything.

"Come here." You tug her hand gently, shifting yourself over on the bed so her small form can fit next to you. Her surprised gaze meets yours before she climbs onto the bed hesitantly, slipping her legs under the thin hospital blanket before snuggling up to you. She gently lays her head on your shoulder, carefully avoiding accidentally knocking your healing scar.

You feel her body melt into yours as you wrap your arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to you as you let out a satisfied sigh at the contact. Your hand gently rubs circles on her arm as the two of you sit momentarily in each other's presence, enjoying the silence of the hospital room filled with nothing but the soothing sound of your heartbeat.

"There's no one else I'd rather love." Despite your bandages, you whispered into her hair and placed a small kiss amongst her dark hair. She sits up, turning her head to look you in the eye as her soft eyes meet yours. You observe her swallow harshly as she purses her lips, debating whether or not to tell you something.

"Gale found where the masks are coming from.". Your eye widened slightly at the news, the previously steady sound of your heartbeat from the monitor speeding up. "Ok... and that's a good thing, right?" "Y-yeh... but now that you're awake, I've got to investigate it with the others."

Now you understand why she was hesitant.

"Ok. Well, I'm coming with you.". Tara's previously apologetic eyes widen as she watches you pull the blanket off of yourself before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "W-wait! No, you have to stay here." You turn your head towards her with your eyebrow raised, shooting her an unspoken 'seriously?' before sighing.

"Last time I didn't go with you, you were attacked... and it's not that I don't trust you, I-... I'm going, Tara. End of discussion.". She immediately swallowed down her rebuttal; the assertion in your voice was unlike any she had heard from you before.

You turned your attention back to getting out of the confined space that was this random New York hospital, the painkillers that still ran through your system hitting you once again as you stood up, your head spinning momentarily.

Noticing your slight wobble, Tara snaps out of her shocked haze and rushes to your side, carefully grabbing ahold of your arm in support as she leads you to the bathroom so you can change out of your paper-thin hospital gown.

"I'll get the nurse," she speaks swiftly as she makes sure you're ok before running out of the room.

Surprisingly, you were discharged from the hospital effortlessly, with nothing but a smaller bandage and a prescription for more painkillers in your possession as you walked out the doors. When you were finally reunited with the others, Sam and Mindy pulled you into bone-crushing hugs, having not seen you since you passed out.

"Thank god you're ok!" Sam said as she pulled away with a relieved smile. You returned the smile before looking over her shoulder, your gaze landing on a large Ghostface mural painted on one of the walls that lined the alleyway that apparently led to Ghostface's 'base'.

"Apparently, they used fake names to rent this place," Gale said as she went past you, Kirby close behind her, arguing about how she had managed to find the place. Your feet remained in place, your gaze fixed on the imposing tribute that towered over you.

"Y/n?" Your attention was drawn to your girlfriend, who was staring back at you expectantly as the rest of the party entered the building further ahead of her. "Coming, sorry.". Tara looked at you amusedly as you walked towards her as quickly as your slightly dazed state allowed.

As Gale pulled open the bulky metal doors and led you into the building, you were confronted with a dark and dusty stairway leading up to some type of cage. "Well, isn't this lovely." You joked, hesitantly following the others up the decrepit steps behind Tara, your collective slow and heavy breaths reverberating around the dark unknown beyond the rusted bars.

The loud beep and rattle of the old cell-like door being swung open rings in your ears as you slowly walk further into the building, purposely staying close to Tara's side. "What is this place? What's with all the security?" Sam asked as Gale moved towards a power board, flicking a switch that lit up the entire vast space, the sudden brightness stinging your fragile eye.

As your sight adjusts and scans the area around you, your impaired gaze travels across a giant, worn-white screen dangling from the crumbling ceiling. Your and Tara's like-mindedness becomes apparent, with the two of you appearing to reach the same conclusion after a brief silence. "It's a movie theatre."

"It's not just a theatre. It's a shrine."

The dingy screen slowly ascends, revealing a scene straight out of your nightmares. Nine Ghostfaces lined the stage, a horrifying cloning of a costume you constantly begged to never see again. With a shiver running its course through your body, you took cautious steps forward, dragging your feet underneath you before you came to a halt.

Instead of the rows of chairs you and Tara had become accustomed to in a movie theatre throughout your frequent visits, displays and artifacts from past massacres covered the floor, causing the colour to drain from your face.

As you walked further into the shrine, your eyes examining each and every item, admittedly fascinated by it all, Tara followed and watched you from a small distance. She watched as your posture went rigid as your gaze landed on a particular glass case.

A section entirely dedicated to Dewey.

Your eye brimmed with tears as you scanned over the items. Photos of the man you once trusted and loved stared back at you. The same man who was the sole reason you had made it to this very moment. Your tears finally fell as your focus shifted to a drawing that was displayed front and centre.

The cautious footsteps approaching you from behind didn't faze you as your blurry vision drank in the gruesome illustration of Dewey's corpse, an image that had remained up to your imagination until now.

Until now, you had avoided thinking about anything to do with that night. Whenever his name was mentioned, you immediately changed the subject, refusing to give your mind the freedom to relive and picture what happened.

You were constantly trying to distract yourself, desperate to move on with your life as if nothing ever happened.

Someone's gentle touch on your arm startled you, your clouded vision finally leaving the memorial and landing on your worried girlfriend. Her soft gaze met yours as her thumb traced circles on your exposed skin, sending a warmer shiver down your spine.

She briefly glanced over her shoulder before she slid her hand into yours, gently pulling you away from the collection and into a separate room. An abandoned confectionary stand stood at one end of the room, the wall opposite it decorated with posters from all the previous stab movies.

Tara stops you in the middle of the room, finally turning around to look at you, her eyes filled with guilt. Your heart beats faster in your chest as she remains silent, her tongue nervously running along her dry lips as she gathers the strength to speak.

"I was wrong." she starts, your eye slightly widening in surprise - you were expecting something much worse than an apology. You could feel her hand sweating in yours, her nerves growing glaringly obvious.

"I took all my anger out on you, and I'm so, so sorry, y/n.". Your gaze softened as you watched her small form shake with nerves, her bottom lip beginning to tremble as she took a steadying breath.

"I just want to be a normal person again... I don't want to be a part of this... I don't want you to be a part of this.". You quickly realised where she was going with this. Much like Sam, she felt incredible guilt over pulling you and all the others into the 'franchise', both of the girls blaming themselves for everything your group had gone through over the past year.

No matter many times you had told her it wasn't her fault, that she shouldn't be blaming herself for the actions of film-obsessed psychos, she never listened.

"Everything shitty that has happened to you has been my fault. Mine!... If it weren't for me being a stupid fucking legacy and dragging you into this, you would be happy, living safely in Woodsboro.". Her words were sharp, yet her anger was purely directed at herself. She knew, whether you would admit it or not, that your life would have been better without her. No scars, no trauma, no Ghostface.

"For fuck sake, you'd still be able to see from both your eyes!". You gently bit your bottom lip as you averted your gaze away from your crying girlfriend. Did she have a point? Sure.

You wouldn't be here if you had never talked to her or fallen head over heels for her. That was a fact. You would live alone in your old filthy trailer while your parents' location remained unknown, wasting the rest of your days working as a newspaper delivery kid on your rusted bike. Ghostface would still exist, but he wouldn't touch you.

You would be living peacefully.

Happily though?

Living in Woodsboro, a town known for psychotic murderers who dressed up in Halloween costumes, there was absolutely nothing there that filled you with an ounce of happiness.

Until you met Tara.

If you had learnt anything over the past several months, Tara was your happiness - as cheesy as that was to say. So, while you could be back in your cramped trailer drowning in debt with two eyes and no PTSD, you would unquestionably choose to be standing here with Tara in New York with half your vision.

That said, you return your gaze to the girl in front of you, her face painted red as tears creep down her delicate cheeks as you step closer. You give her a thankful smile before slipping your hands around her shoulders, pulling her into a warm hug. You bury your face gently into her shoulder, inhaling her scent as she wraps her arms tightly around your waist.

Despite standing in a building filled with Ghostface memorabilia, you had never felt safer as you closed your eye and drank in her warm presence. The two of you swayed gently, breathing in sync as you melted into each other.

Your bliss is broken when the door from the shrine is swung open, causing the two of your heads to snap towards the sound. Detective Bailey, Gale, and Sam walk through the door, their faces all painted with determination as they approach the two of you.

"I think I might have an idea about how to turn the tables on this creep."

Walking through a park in the middle of the day wasn't what you had first imagined when you were told about their plan to capture Ghostface, yet here you were. The plan was simple.

Step 1: You, Tara, and Sam would walk around the park nonchalantly and await a call from Ghostface.

Step 2: Kirby, who was bunked up with Mindy, Chad, and Ethan in a van parked just outside the park, would track the call and locate its precise location, thus locating Ghostface.

Step 3: Along with Detective Bailey, you take the fucker down.

In theory, it was flawless. In practice... not so much.

As you walked through the busy park, your hand tightly interlocked with Tara's, your head whirled around, glancing over your shoulder every other second. Sam was just in front of the two of you on comms with Kirby and Bailey as they ran through the plan for the hundredth time.

Your stare shifted from stranger to stranger as you walked along the walkway that ran around the enormous pond in the centre of the park, some of whom were dressed in costumes. "Why the fuck are so many people wearing costumes?" you asked Tara, bending down and whispering in her ear. "It's creepy even if we weren't being stalked by a psycho."

Tara's reply was cut short by Sam's phone ringing, her gaze shifting to the two of you as she took her phone from her back pocket. 'Maybe: Richie Kirsch' was displayed on the screen, a disturbingly normal contact photo accompanying it.

Tara inched closer to you as you all stopped in your tracks. Your gaze darted around, checking each and every corner you could as Sam pulled the phone to her ear.

"Your gonna die, you know?" she spoke confidently. "No, you're gonna die, Samantha!." you heard faintly, the familiar chilling voice causing your jaw to clench instinctively. "Choking on your own blood whilst I hack up your sister!" he spoke menacingly.

Your girlfriend's hand was still in yours as you cast an anxious glance down at her. She shifted slightly as she cast a troubled glance up at you, her once delicate grip on your hand growing tighter as the conversation dragged on.

"Unless we find you first." "For a mastermind, you're not very bright. Waiting for me to call, desperately hoping I'm nearby so the police can grab me?". He was mocking you. Sam's face paled as her eyes desperately searched the area around her, still holding onto hope that he was lying, that he was meddling with you in hopes of killing one of you.

"But I'm not nearby. I'm a step ahead... Be seeing you, Samantha.". Your stomachs all collectively dropped as he hung up the phone. Sam stared blankly at the screen for a moment whilst you and Tara stood shoulder to shoulder with matching worried gazes.

"Did you get it?". Sam finally spoke, her determination eventually overcoming her surprise. "Yep, geolocation coming through right now.". You drew comforting circles on the back of Tara's knuckles as you waited in tense silence for Kirby to track the location, your heart stumbling over its own rhythm.

"He's on the upper west side. He's inside an apartment building halfway across the city.". Whilst a slight bit of you was relieved that he wasn't directly behind you, a sickening wave of terror simultaneously erupted in your gut.

"On West 96th?". Your fear worsened at Tara's words. You admittedly knew very little about New York, preferring to stay in or around your apartment and college campus, but if you knew anything, it was who lived on West 96th. "How did you know that?" Kirby's voice rang through the comms.

"Gale."

In the blink of an eye, you are all hectically running towards Bailey's vehicle with him just behind you. You were hot on Tara's tail as your mind struggled to comprehend how Ghostface had outsmarted you. How did he know your plan? How did he know that you had stupidly left Gale unprotected? It made no sense to you.

"Sam, wait! Take a minute!" Bailey called after you, slowing your quick steps as you all turned around angrily. "We don't have a minute!" Sam retaliated, your stare throwing daggers at Bailey, his audacity to try and stop you from leaving and possibly saving Gale causing your body to burn in anger.

"Sam, you have to trust me." you scoffed at his words, looking at him incredulously at his attempt to play the trust card. There were only a few people you trusted, and he certainly wasn't one of them.

You were so preoccupied with your scepticism that you didn't notice Tara leave your side. Tara's shout of your names, accompanied by a blaring car horn, prompts you and Sam to turn around, where you see Tara seated in the driver's seat of Bailey's cop car.

"Get in."

With the sirens blasting whilst Tara weaves in and out of traffic, you are sat in the back seat, drumming your fingers frantically on your knee as you watch other cars zoom past in a blur. Sam's conversation with 911 was drowned out by your irregular heartbeat, your anxiety worsening as you closed in on Gale's apartment.

As your destination drew closer, your gaze briefly met Tara's through the rearview mirror. Your lips quirked upwards slightly as her eyes returned to the road, turning the car onto West 96th. The sun had fallen behind the tall buildings that lined the street, leaving the road drowned in shadows as Tara finally slowed the car to a halt.

As the three of you dashed inside and towards the elevator, the second you stepped inside, your body became rigid as the colour drained from your face. Vivid memories of a night that was all too familiar to what was happening right now flashed before your eyes.

The desperate car drive. The frantic running towards the elevator. The groaning of the elevator as it tediously climbed.

As the thick metal doors closed, a knot constricted your throat, making breathing difficult as your breaths became thin and ragged. You sucked in a ragged deep breath, attempting to conceal your panic from the others.

Your pleading gaze eventually landed on your girlfriend, who stood beside you. Shifting your focus to her empty hand, you wasted no time in grasping it in yours, your grip strong yet gentle as you held onto her desperately.

Tara casts you a worried glance as she notices your tense stance and sweaty palms, hoping your gaze will fall on hers. Your jaw was clamped shut as you kept your sight locked on the elevator door, taking long and deep breaths as you let Tara's touch ground you, the feeling of her hand in yours causing warmth to flood through your previously frozen figure.

As the floor numbers tick by and Gale's penthouse approaches, she gives your hand one last reassuring squeeze before the elevator dings. As the doors open, you let go of each other's hands as you bolt out, turning to your left to be greeted by Ghostface, holding his knife inches away from Gale's face.

"Hey, Fuckface!" Sam shouts, capturing the killer's attention as she picks up a discarded pistol off the ground and fires at them. Missing all her shots in a panic, Sam attempts to chase after them as they run away. The sound of the stair doors slamming shut and retreating footsteps ring out through the now quiet apartment as your focus shifts to a wounded Gale.

"Gale." you spoke in a suffocated whisper, Tara hot on your tail as you ran towards her. As you fell to your knees next to her, your eye grew impossibly wide at the sight of blood pouring rapidly out of her stomach, an all-too-familiar crimson colour staining her clothes.

Placing your shaking hands on top of her stab wound in an attempt to slow the never-ending stream of blood, she groans in pain as her eyes squeeze shut weakly. "Sorry." you whisper breathlessly, a thick haze clouding your rational mind as your thoughts become erratic.

"He didn't get me.". Her pained words hit you like a truck. Sam had made her way onto her knees next to you as Gale's eyes drooped. Sam tried to beckon her awake with broken pleas, tears falling down her cheeks as her heart sunk with guilt.

Her eyelids twitched as Gale managed to open her eyes marginally one last time. The hair on the back of your next stood up straight as her tired gaze met yours, the tiniest of smiles creeping its way onto her lips.

"I'll tell Dewey you said hi."

Your heart stopped as you were hit with a sudden wave of nausea. The pressure you were applying to her torso weakened as your eyes flooded with tears, transfixed with horror as you were unable to look away no matter how much you tried.

You only heard the distant sound of sirens once paramedics rushed into the penthouse. You stood abruptly and backed away from everyone, seemingly terrified of being touched. Your lips trembled violently as your blurred stare never left Gale's unconscious body.

Hot tears cascaded down your face, several of which soaked through the bandage that had managed to withhold the tears from your wounded eye until now. Your body shook violently as you tried to contain your sobs by slapping your hand over your mouth.

The mention of Dewey's name always affected you. You'd always felt the usual burn of tears and constriction of your throat, but this time was different. This time completely broke you.

At the sound of your stifled sobs, Tara's focus shifted from her distraught sister to you. Her heart broke when she saw your defeated figure. As she slowly approached you, It was hard to see past the tears clouding your eyes which remained frozen on Gale.

Your attention was forced to shift when your girlfriend placed herself directly in front of you, forcing you to gaze at her brokenly. She watches as your sobs begin to spill past your wet lips, weakness finally taking over you as you collapse to your knees.

Tara quickly followed you to the floor, wrapping you in her arms as she cradled your head against her chest, your tears soaking through her shirt.

No matter how much you cried or how much Tara tried to comfort you, the ache in your chest would not relent. It burned without end as though to remind you of your loss, the loss you had so desperately avoided thinking about until it now came uncontrollably pouring out of you.

All the pain and grief you had been running away from finally caught up to you, sinking its teeth in deep, wounding you unlike you had ever been wounded before.

Your chest felt hollow. Your mouth was open, loosely hanging in an empty expression of despair as you finally pulled away from your girlfriend's comforting hold. Her eyes scanned your drained expression, a few stray tears escaping and trickling down your reddened face.

Your bandage was completely saturated with tears, making it feel heavy on your face. Tara noticed your discomfort and slowly raised her hands up to your face, lingering around the top of your bandage. "Do you want me to-" "Please."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and gently touched the edge of your bandage. Her icy fingers on your burning face sent shivers down your spine. You began to panic as she began to take your soaked dressing off, not knowing what awaited Tara underneath.

She slowly pulled the wet gauze off of your delicate skin, eventually revealing your healing scar. Her gaze was drawn to a wide, dull pink scar that extended from your jaw to your brow bone, with rich purples and blues running the borders where your remaining stitches could be seen.

Her attention was drawn to the twitching of your left eye, which glistened with the remnants of tears. She watched as you slowly opened your eye for the first time. Despite being warned about what would happen to your eye, she couldn't help but be taken aback when your piercing e/c iris was replaced with a pale white that stretched the full length of your eye.

The faint smile that had been building on your lips collapsed, your head dropping in an attempt to avoid her sight, as you suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. You obviously didn't know what you looked like, but if the dull ache that constantly ran up the length of your face indicated anything, it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Y/n, hey. Look at me." Your girlfriend's sweet voice lifted your head back up, the sadness that lingered in your eyes slowly dissolving as she looked at you with a compassionate smile, her cheeks dimpled subtly. "You look beautiful." She spoke softly yet firmly, her hands moving up to cup your face lovingly while avoiding your tender scar.

"You're just saying that." You shook your head gently, her words failing to convince you that you look anything other than hideous. Tara was easily the most gorgeous person you had ever laid eyes on, and the fact that she somehow liked you back in the first place never ceased to amaze you.

Now you were convinced it was just illogical.

"Let me prove it then."

Despite the new scar on your face, whilst it served as a cruel reminder of the night that you were almost taken from her, Tara only sees the person that had thrown their life away for her. The person who had saved her life numerous times, and would willingly do it again even if it meant losing themselves.

She only saw the person she had fallen head over heels in love with.

Tara drew you closer as she wrapped her arms around your neck, gently connecting your lips as hers softened against yours. She was careful not to hurt you with her kiss at first, her lips moving tenderly against yours in a manner that spreads warmth throughout your chest like an open flame.

You felt yourself relax as her fingers traced comforting patterns on the back of your neck as you kissed, letting go of the self-consciousness that had been gnawing at you since she carefully removed your bandage. Tara's lips soothed all of your pain and insecurities like a balm.

It was a long kiss, full of emotions that were too complex to put into words. It was a kiss that told you that Tara was there for you, that she loved you no matter what, and that, unlike everyone else in your life, she would never leave you.

And that was exactly what you needed.

As your lips finally parted from each other, you were both breathless and flushed as you felt a sense of calm wash over you, accompanied by a sense of acceptance that you hadn't felt in a long time.

With her bottom lip giddily caught between her teeth, Tara grabbed your hand and helped you to your feet. Her hand remained in yours as she walked with you to the elevator, where Sam was waiting, with a faint smirk on her lips as she watched your interaction.

"The others are on their way. They're meeting us downstairs."

"I'm scared, you guys." Mindy broke the silence that had settled around the group of you sitting in the policed-filled lobby of Gale's apartment building. In the corner of a small couch you shared with Mindy, you were cuddled up close to Tara, her scent and warmth being the only thing bringing you comfort. When the others arrived, you sank back into the couch, aware that everyone's eyes scrutinised and judged your new, unusual appearance.

"So what do we do now?" It was a good question. Running from Ghostface was always the same, no matter how hard you tried. He would always find you, no matter where you went or how far you went, and either traumatise or kill you.

"Maybe he gets to win this time.". Your head snapped towards Sam as she stood up from her chair. You all stared at her, eyes wide in disbelief. "He wants to punish me. Me! So maybe I let him. I'll just give myself up. If this is what I have to do to keep you safe, it's worth it."

Sam spoke boldly but brokenly, tears streaming down her face. Tara swiftly stood up as soon as Sam stopped talking, her absence forcing you to shift uncomfortably at the lack of warmth and sudden exposure to the others.

"No, we're not doing that, Sam, alright? You went back to Woodsboro to protect me. Every single day you make the decision to protect me. None of us would even be alive if it weren't for you. You have to let us protect you this time."

If you hadn't already drained yourself of tears, you were certain you would have shed a few at Tara's words. The warmth and the passion behind them cause your heart to swell in your chest, filling you with a sense of pride that you get to call Tara your girlfriend.

"We're a team, remember." "Actually, we're family." "Let's go! Core four!". The four of them were now standing up whilst you remained on the couch, your knees help up to your chest as you watched them with a clenched jaw.

You'd accepted the fact you weren't in the 'core four', but that didn't mean it still didn't hurt.

You watched with a distant stare as they all put their hands in, an apparent 'tradition' that Danny tried to get in on but was quickly ushered away by Chad. Surprisingly, Tara glanced back at you, sending you a small sympathetic smile in an attempt to cheer you up. When she saw it failed, she reached her spare hand out behind her, beckoning you to hold it.

Your eyes looked at her hand, surprised for a moment, before slipping your fingers in between hers. She gave your hand a soft squeeze as you stood up and situated yourself behind her, almost using her as a makeshift shield.

"He's gonna keep coming after us." Sam warned as the four of their hands dropped, yours remaining in Tara's other hand. "Isn't there somewhere safe we can just haul up in?" Ethan chimes in, clueless as usual. "He's just gonna keep finding us."

You watched as the cogs turned in Tara's mind before her head spun around to face you. "We could use that though.". As her eyes met yours, you were hit with the same epiphany. Her soft hand lefts yours as she searches for her phone in her pockets, eventually pulling it out and calling Detective Bailey.

As the phone rang through the speaker, the questioning eyes of the others looked between you and your girlfriend, curious as to what you had both telepathically figured out. When he finally answered the phone, Tara was quick to propose your plan.

"We want to lure him to a secure location and trap him inside." "And then what?" "We execute him.". Although you were hesitant about involving the detective after his somewhat suspicious actions earlier in the day, unfortunately, without his help, your plan could never work.

"Are you gonna help us?". There's a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. You all look at each other expectantly as you all desperately await an answer, this plan being the only thing that could logically work at this point in time.

"Let's kill this son of a bitch."

There is a collective sigh of relief as he explains how the rest of the night should pan out. "I'll tell Kirby to meet you there, and I'll join you as soon as I can.". As the realisation that 'act three' is closing in on you hits, your pulse roars in your throat as you try to mentally prepare yourself for the torture that lies ahead.

"Remember, travel in public. The more people around you, the less chance he has to take a shot at you before you get there.". That definitely didn't aid in calming down your nerves, the idea of travelling through the packed New York City on public transport causing a knot to form in the pit of your stomach.

"The subway it is."

Tag-list:@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @simp4nat @natashadeservedmore @livingforwaddams @alexkolax @ssinfulprayers @wifeyjennaortega@thenextdawn @zhasmindoesntknow @faunusrubyrose @harleyspunchingbag @yourmamacom@rockwyn @androgynouscloudenemy@padf00ts-l0ver @wol-fica @captainbeat @sophiexoxo-lol@perfectartisanwerewolf @pedrosprincess @dark-hunter16 @daenerys713 @dksjskx @blazemaster4014 @l4venderia @marsyay78 @edearx0 @randomnessbecausewhynot

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #scream vi #scream 6 #scream #the quiet one #simp4wom3n

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marsosims · 5 months

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hi, hello! hope you have a wonderful day and lots of fun with the new pack! i was wondering how to decorate/build in the new world to make it realistic bc i want to lean into the whole SEA flair without making too sterotypical i hope you know what i mean lol so some help from someone who's filipino like yourself would mean lots for me!!

Before I answer this question, I'd just like to preface that I am NOT an expert and I'm just sharing my personal thoughts and ideas :)

marsosims' tips to decorating tomarang builds

Use references. I think this is probably the most important tip that I can tell you. Use references, you won't regret it! Whether it's from google earth, Pinterest, or even drawings - you have a TON of reference materials!

Here are some illustrations: Top image is a still from the movie, "Hayop Ka!", Bottom left from Arlo Jhan Bayot, Right from Albert Tan

Here are some pictures - these ones are more or less middle class, but some shared characteristics between most of them are bright walls (usually cement, wood, and the occasional fake brick wall), fenced in yards (if you could call them that), wrought iron, and most importantly, plants.

PLANTS. GO CRAZY. SEA countries are located in the tropics, which means that they have very diverse foliage... SO like go wild if you want to (especially if building in the more rural part of Tomarang). People will also have a lot of potted plants, like:

(Bougainvilleas are usually a favorite - idk if the sims has any like it?)

OPEN LAYOUT FLOORPLANS. Most houses are open concept, and hallways for residential buildings are pretty rare in my opinion.

Another thing to note are dirty kitchens, which are basically outside kitchens that you do all of your cooking so that the smell doesn't stick to your things (this is important because as I said - most houses are open concept). Cooking inside is also pretty unpleasant because SEA COUNTRIES ARE HOTTTT.

Use tiles. With interiors, I'd say that it usually varies but a staple in most homes are tiled floors, because they are cool (not in a fashion way and more a literal way) and are resistant to floods.

I almost never see people have wooden floors unless the house was an ancestral house or the house is on the cheaper side (but even then, I usually see cement or tiled floors). If you do see some wooden floors, my bet is that they're one of those cheap linoleum / vinyl ones (idk what they are exactly)

I also never see people use carpets or rugs - probably a bit too much of a hassle to deal with (but they do exist!).

As for walls, they're usually just left as cement or wood. Wallpapers weren't all that popular until recently during the pandemic when people got bored and started putting up wallpapers ksdhbfsd

Use wooden furniture where possible! Plus points if you use glass somehow. Most things are wooden, and usually do not match with each other. It actually drives me crazy at home because none of the wood tones match, but it's comforting in a way. You can see an example of this on the image above. If things weren't made of wood, they were usually plastic :)

Display those trophies / certificates! Filipinos are VERY proud of their achievements. Feel free to display those trophies, certificates, etc. front and center of your homes, where guests can see them.

These are all the things I can think of! I'm sorry it's a little rambly kscfksdfh I tried my best o7

If you have any questions, feel free to shoot them my way. ALSOO I'd just like to reiterate that these are just based on my personal experiences and thoughts and not everything I say may not necessarily be true for every SEA person (or even Filipino). OK BYE

#marso #a #asks #building tips?#decorating tips?#idk

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amberlynnmurdock · 2 months

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I Want You

Pairing: Ben Poindexter "Dex" x Reader

Summary: Dex comes home from a late shift at the FBI to find you sleeping on his side of the bed.

Genre: 18+ CONTENT. SMUT. This is literally pure smut lol. Read with caution and also wrap it before you tap it, this is FICTION lol.

A/N: IDK where this smut came from but this might be the dirtiest I've written LOL. Might be slightly out of character, but I imagine any "light-hearted" Dex I write is before the events of Season 3. There's also MILD angst and MILD fluff if you squint, but LOTS of smut LOL. Enjoy my Dex lovers, so glad I've found you all <3 also this is barely edited I literally just knocked this out

Words: 1.8k

Dex is working late tonight—later than usual. Later than he’d like to, knowing you were alone at his apartment, waiting for his arrival. He hoped tonight would’ve been an early night but as expected, to his dismay, the SWAT unit was called in for a job and there was no chance Dex would be able to get home to you before you fell asleep.

I’m sorry he texted you, the heavy feeling he always got when he knew he would be disappointing you They need us tonight.

It’s okay you replied, and Dex read it in your sing-song voice I’ll be here waiting. Wake me up for a kiss.

Dex’s mouth twitched in a smile as the elevator lifted him to his floor, where you were most definitely lying in his bed already, making a mess of his fitted sheets. The only clutter he allowed in his life was the mess made by you. He leaned against the wall of the elevator and sighed; he wouldn’t let his exhaustion get in the way of making sure he gave you a kiss goodnight.

His shoulders were sore from the job tonight, aches and pains all over his back. His bed was practically calling his name and you, the keeper of his comfort. When the elevator dinged, he sauntered to his apartment door and quietly opened it so as to not make any sound. He didn’t want the door opening to wake you—he wanted his lips to take care of that.

Dex places his keys carefully on the hook and shrugs his denim sherpa jacket off. He opens the door to his bedroom quietly and sighs in contentment as he sees you sleeping soundly. He rarely got good sleep, so it was satisfying to see you deeply in it. It helped him most of the time.

Not wanting to get in bed without cleaning himself of the night’s job, he stalks to the bathroom and shuts the door before turning the light on so it won’t wake you. After a five-minute hot shower and brushing his teeth, Dex throws on a thin white shirt and boxers and then opens the door again to find you sleeping soundly still.

He stays in the doorway, watching you sleep. He often did this for peace of mind. When his thoughts got too loud and he began to feel himself spiral, just your presence alone was enough to bring him down. Help him sleep. You always did. Your hair was sprawled on his pillow—you were sleeping on his side, as you always did when he came home late—and you held the covers close to your chest. You looked perfect. He almost didn’t want to wake you up and ruin this image of you, but he had to do what you requested.

Dex sits in the crook of space you left as you’re sleeping in a fetal position, legs close to your chest. The bed dips a little when he sits and he gently runs his fingers over the side of your face, caressing your skin carefully. It only takes him four times of doing this until you stir in your sleep.

“Dex,” your eyelids are heavy but you force them to open to see Dex’s soft expression looking down at you, a smile on his face. “You’re home.”

“I am,” Dex whispered. “You wanted me to wake you.”

“I know,” you reach up lazily and cup his cheek in the palm of your hand, thumb grazing just below his bottom lid. “Kiss me.”

Dex’s eyes are half closed as he leans down to meet your lips. When your lips finally touch, his eyes close, and the kiss consumes every fiber of his being. The noise that constantly buzzed in his head, for a moment, was silenced by your soft lips. His attention was drawn to your fingers twirling in his dirty blonde locks as you pulled him even closer. Dex opens his mouth and dashes his tongue on your bottom lip, a way to ask you to let him in. You open your mouth in return and let his tongue glide against yours as you breathe in his fresh scent.

“Come here,” you pull back and push the sheets off you for Dex to join.

“This is my side,” he jokes as he slides underneath, brings the covers over the both of you again and hovers his entire body over you. “Give it back.”

“Take it back,” you smirk, your haze of sleepiness fading as the weight of Dex on top of you energizes you. He’s just taken a shower—you can tell by the way his thin white shirt clings onto his hot, soft damp skin. His shirt is so thin you want to rip it apart to feel his warmth on yours. You just might by the way you’re gripping his collar.

Dex laughs, understanding your nudge. He pulls his shirt from the back and off him. It’s only then he realizes you’re already ahead of the game and completely naked in his bed.

“__…” your name falls from his lips as he feels your soft skin pressed into his bed. Dex runs his hands from your neck to your collarbone and stops there to kiss you between the crook of your shoulder. He leaves a trail of kisses along the length of your neck before kissing your lips again. If there’s anything he’s good at, it’s knowing exactly where to kiss you.

“Dex,” you sigh into his kisses and close your eyes. You find his strong hands and guide them to where you need to be touched most. You place the palms of his hands over your breasts and Dex gently kneads them as he pulls back from kissing you. It was a wonder how something so beautiful he was allowed to touch.

But something shifts in his demeanor. Something he knows you like. Without fail he kicks your legs apart so he’s fully over you now, pressing his hard cock between your legs. You take a shaky breath, feeling your arousal grow so much you need him sooner than later. You look up at Dex and he’s already staring down at you.

His eyes are as dark as the room but you can’t ignore the intense gaze he gives you—so intense you felt like he was pulling your soul out of your body and claiming it his. In a way, he already had it. You were all his. You swallow hard, never getting used to the way he looks at you like that, and reach up to grab him by his jaw to kiss you. Dex sucks on your lips and holds you by your waist. You find the band of his boxers and push them off.

“You want me?” That little voice of doubt Dex just can’t ignore comes through in this intimate moment, and he wants to kick himself for asking it. He asks as his lips trace the skin of your neck anyway, pausing to anticipate your reaction. You affirm him, like you always do.

“I want you, Dex,” you breathe, and Dex sighs in relief. He pulls back, a much softer gaze on you, but his eyes still so dark. “I love you.”

It’s those three words he pretends not to hear—pretends like they couldn’t save his life. But they do, they always do. And he’s brought back down to reality as he gently pushes your legs further. His cock is throbbing between his legs now but he won’t give either of you the sweet relief you need—not before he teases you just a bit.

Dex trails his fingers down your stomach and circles your clit gently with his thumb, watching your face for your reaction to his touch. Where do you like it? How does his thumb make you feel? A beautiful expression softly etches on your face that tells him you like what he’s doing. You want more.

Dex slides two fingers inside your warm wetness and it takes everything in him to bite back a moan. He clenches his jaw as he slowly pushes in and out with his fingers in your pussy, going deeper and deeper with each stroke. He curls his fingers to hit the spot you so desperately need to be touched. Goosebumps raise on his skin as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

“Dex,” you demand his name. “I want you.”

Dex slides his fingers out your pussy and cups the back of your neck with his hand to kiss you slowly—he needed this as much as you did. And without warning, Dex lines his cock with your warm pussy and slowly pushes himself inside you.

“Fuck,” you moan softly in his ear as his length stretches your tight pussy. Dex takes a deep breath as he settles inside you, caressing your neck and pushing even deeper. And then he starts to move slowly, pulling all the way out before harshly pushing back in. The bed begins to rock with every thrust he makes, every grunt he suppresses, and every moan you let out. You spread and wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him even deeper, feeling the tip of his cock touch your sweet spot inside. You’re completely soaking all over his hard cock, surely getting the bed wet. Dex had a way of fucking you so good it was hard to think of how to return the favor, but he loved to please you like this, he loved to be in charge of your pleasure. Dex pounds his cock into you slowly, feeling your tightness and wetness all over him, he focuses on your breathing to know when you’re about to come.

“__,” he whispers your name. “Say you want me.”

“I want you,” you whisper breathlessly, feeling yourself come all over his cock, the sounds of sex filling the space between you.

“Keep saying it,” Dex’s voice is hardly above a whisper as he feels himself almost come undone. His pushes his cock all the way inside you, earning a moan slip from your lips.

“I want you, Dex,” you say breathlessly, squeezing your pussy on his cock. “I want you. I want you. I want—“

Dex shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw as his final thrust coats your soft and warm pussy, filling you with his cum. He continues his pounding slowly with each last pump of cum he spills inside you and holds you close to his chest to keep you from shaking.

“It’s okay,” your chest is heaving, and your entire body is shaking. “I’m okay.”

Dex completely pulls out of you, and you feel the space he’s left—empty. Dex looks at you with concern, his heart pounding against his chest. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Dex,” you smile, pushing a sweaty strand of his hair back. “I’m more than okay.”

“Okay,” Dex nods, catching his breath finally.

When Dex gets up to fetch a towel from the bathroom, you wrap yourself in his sheets and claim his side of the bed as your own. When Dex comes back, he smiles to himself. He crawls into bed—into your side—and wraps his strong arms around you. He watches you fall asleep again and only lets himself nod off when he can’t fight sleep anymore.

#ben poindexter #benjamin poindexter #dex #ben poindexter x reader #benjamin poindexter x reader #bullseye #bullseye x reader #wilson bethel #wilson bethel x reader #daredevil #daredevil born again #bullseye smut #ben poindexter smut #benjamin poindexter smut

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little-cereal-draws · 8 months

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I transcribed Ballister's notes

Image 1.

Location Stables 2

locker

Blitz's stall

Weapon cart (this one has an asterisk and is circled)

Location Glorodome 3

stage

Noble boxes?

Image 2.

Hidden Tech?

Details

weight off?

no scar (I think this means the "B" on the hilt was wrong)

no visible accommodations

Sabotaged sword

Logistics

where?

* Who has the resources to create this (this one has an asterisk and is circled)

when was this imp. ???

Reason?

Image 3.

The note on the left is labeled Timeline. Some lines are circled, numbered. or asterisked. The note on the right has a lot of text, some of it crossed out, and a box at the bottom

Image 4.

A close up on the box at the bottom of the note from the last image. It says Location Institute 1. There are three bullet points under it but I can't read them

This is so interesting to me!!! I'm so happy that Blitzmeyer got a little shout out and the implication that he met her right before the knighting ceremony opens up so many possibilities. And the fact that he was considering that the blast came from the noble's boxes at one point really shows what he thinks of them (and possibly ambrosius' family by extension? maybe? for angst?) Idk there's just so many cool things here

pt 1, pt 2, pt 4, pt 5

#i'm back on my overanalyzing of details bs #i'm writing up a list of details i've noticed too but that will come at a later date #nimona #ballister boldheart #dr blitzmeyer #meredith blitzmeyer #nimona movie #nimona 2023

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gt-daboss · 4 months

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I would love to say this was a spur of the moment idea, but i have literally been thinking of drawing @clumsiestgiantess 's OC's since like, chapter 4 of their story idk i just-

Erica^

Alexis (twice!)^

I took some inspiration for their clothes from your reference sheet of them. once again I've had that page open for months now waiting for the time i would have the inspiration to draw them ahhhh!

Sorry if i got the proportions wrong, I'm not suuuper good at judging sizes (I think Erica is a little big in comparison to Alexis's finger in the first image for example) oh and also, here's the full page!

the first one I imagine happens sometime in -spoilers- season 2 when Alexis has regained trust with Erica and they are enjoying a moment together.

bottom left is Alexis returning to the otherworld and seeing how destroyed and desolate it has become since the four years she left, also maybe (definitely) wondering where and if Erica is okay.

The bottom middle was supposed to be a somber-ish take on Alexis, maybe sad or reflective, but honestly, it just looks like she's pissed off lmao

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forecast0ctopus · 1 year

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how do you use references when you draw fanart or figure out how to draw irl characters?? it's just that i've been looking through your art and i feel like you ability to capture a character's idk essence, in vibes + appearence, are just unmatched! they're all so dynamic and like them i just <33

aaa thanks so much!! im glad to hear that since i honestly dont watch a ton of live action? i generally have done a lot more fanart for animated things so thats nice to hear haha anyways though!! i have far too many words that may or may not make sense to say so i'll put how i use references and figure out live action characters below

the main rule i like to keep in my head is that i am drawing the character, not the actor, if that makes sense?

this is all taking arthur as an example, to show what kinds of things i look for!! if i were talking about merlin any other live action character like. bobby briggs or something all the details would be super different haha a way i like to familiarize myself with a live action character at first is tracing which i must preface by saying TRACING ISNT BAD!! its a tool and it just needs to be used correctly. tracing is a great way to figure out a method to drawing things, so its really valuable in studying. im not gonna address using tracing in finished artwork rn bc thats where it gets a little dicey and i would talk about it too much.

i dont really need to do this for arthur anymore but it was a fun exercise lmao

sorry the images are so crunchy i always forget i work on small canvases, anyways in capturing a likeness i like to emphasize and exaggerate a little which features make the character most recognizable to me.

he's got a sharp nose which is bumped at the bridge and a little bit upturned at the bottom. when he's smiling his eyes crinkle a lot and his cheek muscle becomes more pronounced and connects into the corner of his mouth

very square jaw. his brows are thicker near the center and don't have much of an arch. his cheeks are hollowed with neutral expression and the muscles on the sides of his mouth (depressor anguli oris, if i remember correctly lol) are obvious when the corners of his mouth are downturned

the corners of his mouth fold in a lot when he bares his teeth if hes angry or agitated, its a different type of fold when hes relaxed or smiling

his masseter is rather pronounced when he's talking or agitated, and i usually connect the line of it to the line that goes down from the inner corner of his eye. i forget what the word for it is rn but its different from eyebags (though i do like to draw eyebags)

but none of these details work if whatever hes doing in the drawing isnt in character, yknow? like he could look like arthur but he wouldnt really feel like arthur if hes not acting like arthur. idk it s hard for me to put to words im sure u get what i mean enough

body shape and language are also super important to think about, these are some things i keep in mind with arthur - hes shredded but not like marvel movie dehydrated shredded (good for him) - hes very broad and his shoulders slope down because of his trapezius muscles - he takes up a lot of space! he hardly ever curls up or sits with his feet up in his chair. even when hes sleeping hes pretty sprawled out - his "closed off" body language is crossing his arms or raising his left hand to twist his index finger ring with his thumb (worried/thinking gesture) - he moves with a lot of purpose usually and isnt often clumsy (unlike merlin lmao) - he moves his shoulders a lot when he walks (see top left image)

honestly think body language is just as important as facial features if not more, for the purpose of creating personality and character

i probably sound like i think way too much about this stuff which i. i kind of do but not in so many words i dont need this many words when its all in my brain. but yeah thats how i figure out how to draw a live action character i guess? anyways this was kind of a mess haha

#ask #anon #i worry a lot about my art not reading correctly as the characters im drawing so its really good to hear that its somewhat working haha #long post #long fucking post!!! god. sorry about that #how i draw

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limi-strology · 1 year

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Long astrology related rant ahead:

Topic: Leo placements and hair

Okay, so I'm a Leo rising and when I was younger my hair was really beautiful, like the curls that are usually seen in movies depicting royalty or something.

However, growing up, the curls kinda left but at least it was still wavy. Welp, until middle school because I kept straightening my hair. I would also frequently have my hair up in high ponytails (because of gym at school and sports later in the day), which I almost always tied too tightly.

Later on, as if frying my hair and forcing it in tight ponytails all the time wasn't already a problem, I would brush my hair too aggressively whenever I was in a hurry or angry at someone, so I basically pulled at it. And, to top it all off, due to high stress from high school finals (greek finals are a fucking nightmare, let me tell you), my hair started falling out like CRAZY.

I lost so much hair that year that I've since kept my hair around shoulder length until it heals a bit. I also use treatments, oils, take vitamins and try to let my hair air dry whenever possible, and thankfully my hair is slowly getting better (and because of the humidity where I live, the waves/curls are coming back as well!)

However, seeing all these posts about Leo placements having such amazing hair makes me a little self-conscious as my hair is pretty thin, sparse and quite fragile 🙃

I just feel kinda upset because all this aggression towards my hair started when I broke up with my ex, and I can't help but wonder if my hair would still be alright today had I never dated him (I straightened my hair a lot more while we were in a relationship).

It's annoying because I used to have long soft hair that started as dark brown at the roots and gradually got more blonde towards the end and I just fucking destroyed it 🥲 Idk, any other Leo risings with really thin hair understand me on this??

For reference, here's my hair through the past 5ish? years:

Top left: 2019 Top right: 2020

Bottom left: 2021 Bottom right: 2022

(Idk if it shows well, but in the last photo you can kinda see that there's little volume in my hair, it's kinda flat and it looks much thinner than the first two pics)

So, yeah, to my fellow Leo risings: Do you also sometimes get a little insecure about your hair? Have there been periods where your hair was a bit damaged? Do you dye/straighten/curl/tie it up a lot? Do you have a specific hair care routine you do?

Feel free to share your thoughts or any advice, I'm just wondering if there's more individuals who feel like they don't exactly match the typical image of their sign.

To anyone who read this entire thing, sorry for the long rant, I didn't realise how much I had to say on this 😅 Anyways, thanks for dealing with me, I hope you have a wonderful day! 😊🤍

#noni's thoughts #astrology rants #astro rants #astrology #rising signs #leo #leo rising #astro observations #astrology observations #long post

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mosssyyycat · 6 months

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Does the new warrior cats art look AI to anyone else?

Originally I just thought the artist was lazy or inexperienced, I was a little confused when some people pointed out that it looked AI generated, but after looking closer, I kind of believe it? I could be completely wrong, but I’ll give images as examples for why I believe this. I also don’t own the book yet, so I only have the images uploaded to the official website to use, and I’m unsure if there have been changes to the art since that.

Disclaimer

Some of this information I have I got from other people, I cannot confirm if it’s true, so please don’t take my word for some of this (for the things I’m unsure if it’s true or not I will link back to where I got the information when I can)

I love warriors, I love the stories, characters, unique wood building, all of it! I’m not hating on the books or authors in any way with this post, this Is just a speculation about the cover art. What’s inside the books is still great and i look forward to every book!

I first noticed the art looking AI on a post which mentioned the ableist choices the artist made, hiding cats Injuries behind plants and things like that.

Link to the post https://www.reddit.com/r/WarriorCats/comments/17blwe7/the_new_warrior_cats_ultimate_guide_art_is_hiding/

Some people pointed out that the artist seemed inexperienced in cats, and it’s possible that they were just unsure of how to draw the injuries, which I could believe. But I saw a comment on there saying this same artist did the covers for a book series they read and this person whitewashed the characters on the covers of the books. I don’t know anything of the series so I can’t confirm this, but the comments stating this were found on the post linked above. If this is true, I wouldn’t really trust this person to not decide it would be faster to AI generate their art and just go over it to make it look better.

For the same reason, unless it’s confirmed in some way, I don’t believe the warriors team made the choice to hide the characters disabilities, especially since the previous ultimate guide they did show their injuries. Why would they just suddenly change their mind? And I doubt the last book they did art for asked them to whitewash the characters either. I think it’s just this artist being not so good.

Also knowing the book had previously said Ivy was brown/red and Dove was yellow because who ever added their coat color just color picked from the art with extremely harsh lighting, it would make sense that they also missed some of the things like AI or hiding disabilities. It’s possible whoever was doing that part maybe didn’t really know the characters well enough to catch these things. (or else I don’t think they’d be calling Dove yellow and Ivy red haha)

Here’s the art I’ve seen that has me suspicious..

The first one I believe is Crag.

If you look at the bottom right of the cat, there’s a weird area that looks like his body got cut of and all they did to cover if was add three purple strokes. And his body is just a big blob..? Like, on the left it almost looks like the start of a leg but then it’s just a weird thing sticking out?? I don’t know, it just looks weird to me. You can also see at the bottom left of his body it gets cut off.

Second is Stormfur and Brook.

Brook’s body just melts into the ground, it looks like a badly taken photo or something, like the quality around her body is just really bad. Where are her legs??? Someone please help her find her legs. Stormfur, help her find her legs…

Third is Mudclaw. Not only does his left cheek look really weird, LOOK AT HIS TAIL???? I genuinely don’t understand how someone could draw it like that without going “hm.. that looks kinda weird.” It looks really AI generated. The bottom left corner the plants look really melty and weird… like how do you draw like that? Idk

He also doesn’t have legs, but a body that’s seems to melt together, with some weird looking shapes in it.

There’s also Half Moon’s eye looking really weird, Blackstar’s art… just look at the bushes.. it looks straight out of Dora? Like it’s not even realistic???? Harestar’s mouth looks like it’s covered in blood or something, honestly I don’t know what to say about it. I won’t link these ones but you can find them in the official warriors website, or in the book if you have it.

This art is pretty old, but Sol is known for his big ears, long muzzle, and short fur which is much longer around his neck and tail tip, making him resemble a lion, he has red/orange, white, and black patches. This guy did not do that.. at all. And notice how everything is SO RED you can’t see the real colors of anything, except those blades of grass at the front. That’s so ugly???? How did he think it looks good..?

Ending on a positiv note, Feathertail’s art is SO PRETTY!!! Same for Rootspring!! And what I assume is Ravenpaw and Barley is very cute! I have seen some other really pretty ones but I’m not sure who they are. I really hope the art isn’t AI generated. And though some of these look really bad, some of them are so pretty too! I’m not exactly sure what to think honestly. But I do slightly hope they get a new artist. But if they don’t, at least the books are still good! I’m not buying them for the cover anyway, so I guess in the end it doesn’t matter all that much. But still, I’m curious what other people think? Is this AI, laziness, simply the artist not being skilled enough with cats?

#warriors #erin hunter warriors #warrior cats

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elena-oc-blog · 6 months

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Hey remember when I drew the hydra brothers back in august and mentioned in the description that i would have their parents out soon too? Yeah sorry, they got stuck in art limbo as i was distracted with other things but now I have the hydra dads for you to see! I actually finished this like 2 days ago and I was going to wait with posting them until i finished the hydra mom piece too but I'm going through another *im tired all the time* period so thats not happening any time soon so here is hydra dad by himself or themselves i should say. I only drew their heads because I have mercy for myself and am not subjecting myself on drawing an anthro hydra with 5 heads. I do have bust sketches of them in my sketchbook but I still need to figure out how to fit their 5 necks and heads on one body properly so maybe thats a thing for the far future Anyway lore on these guys uh, Im a lil tired so let me just copy paste some miscelaneous lore I posted in my discord server and ill try to elaborate when i feel less shitty. I'll put it under a readmore so this post wont clog up your feed.

The Lièrna family gang is made up of Greek monsters: centaurs, satyrs, chimeras, minotaurs, griffins, some undercover hellhounds, etc.

Don't have a proper ref for this gang yet as I still need to fill their ranks

They originally lived in and operated from Athens in Greece but had to leave almost everything behind when the police started to catch on to them. They fled to the carribean island of Isla Dracon and settled in Auron City, soon recovering their wealth and businesses and becoming one the top dog gangs there and close to being in control of the city. That is until Thorn showed up a few years after..

The Lièrna family front is a luxury car business (building, selling, repairing) while their criminal business is car towing with a lot of extortion of the poorer part of the city's population where they basically steal cars and any personal belongings left in them from the poor population because they can't pay the fees. They then proceed to either resell these cars in one of their used car dealerships or destroy the cars to use for parts and scrap metal. They also loan out money under preditory rates and own some real estate that they rent out for high prices with bad service. So really their whole business is exploiting people, especially those less fortunate. They revel in this, thinking the poor deserve it for not working hard enough.

As for their relationship with Thorn, they hate Thorn but they act like good friends of his whenever they meet with him or are talking about him with people they don't know/people who like him. They don't want to stir trouble until they have a solid plan on how to overthrown him. Thorn as of now has no idea the hydras hate his guts and are plotting against him in secret together with Morrison and whatever other allies they gain.

Im not sure how old they are. I need to figure out my timeline better for that first. And maybe change how dragons age compared to other species idk But I would say they are between their late 40s and mid 50s

Also pecking order of the brothers from top to bottom is: Don, Alekos, Roland and Boris and at the very bottom is Kashew. Kashew is mute and also rather friendly which makes his brothers and especially Don regard him as a useless nobody. Kashew gets a lot of verbal abuse and sometimes also physical abuse from his brothers :( The only reason they don't physically abuse him as much as they mentally abuse him is because having a beaten up head would be bad for their business and image with the civilians of the city. They also cant get rid of him as that would comprimise their health and ability to fuse back together. Hydras can split up into individual smaller and less powerful dragons but unless all individuals are present, they can't fuse back together. And eventhough hydras in their fused natural state can regenerate their heads effortlessly and have an increased durability for injuries, in their seperate state they will die if decapitated and are also much more defenseless in general. While a fused hydra could take a vicious stabbing/beating and live, a split hydra individual is much more fragile and will easily bleed out and if they die, their siblings are doomed as well. Thus hydras tend to only split up when in the comfort of their home or when they take on a human disguise. It can also occur when there is an extreme disagreement between siblings and one or multiple forcibly split off through sheer willpower, causing them to fall apart into seperate entities. This is not preferable though. Anyway i think thats all the lore i have at the moment, i hope you enjoy the boys. Feel free to ask questions about them

#lierna patriarch #lore

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sim-bad · 5 days

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last summer I was at my local green space writing and playing music on my speakers among other sunbathers. at some point some angry guy stomped in the park & try agress me about using my speakers on some ‘why don’t u play it in ur earphones’ type shit and a nearby sunbather came to my defence and said he was enjoying my music and rallied the other bathers to agree that they were also enjoying my music to ward him away.

after that we got into a chat about some of the discography I was running. I was playing astrud gilberto, ziyad al rahbani, betty carter, mid-air thief, salami rj louis like real mellow summers day shit lmao. after the guy left we spoke he complimented my ear and asked me if I made music I told him I just listened but he said to me “u should play because u can hear and if u cannot hear u cannot play even if u were taught” anyway come to find he’s an immigrant from Japan to London, former band member for many years here and a mathematician and he was telling me about the mathematics behind musical theory, tempo and different progressions. we exchanged some artists and musicians and he gave me a name to search up in Bandcamp for his compositions but my adhd brain misplaced that paper and all I have are some other artists I had noted down as we spoke.

anyway before we go our separate ways he tells me to visit some cafe local to the park, two roads down from where I live. he says his friend owns the place if I say I know him I will get a discount. (cafe above) this is now one of my sacred local homesteads in ends. the guy who owns the cafe is a musician who makes a mean poached egg prosciutto olive oil fresh tomato spiel for me when I go. the framed images are exhibitions that he organises, so the art on the wall of the cafe is never the same. there’s also a board for anyone to add their flyers to. two acoustic guitars at the entrance and any kinda sweet wonderful person will rock up there and you’ll have a great conversation. any kinda background, builder, poet, musician, social workers, parents, old time friends. anytime I’ve gone I’ve randomly spoken to a stranger or a regular that’ll figuratively give me a handful of glitter to put in my mental pocket.

today I was explaining to some regulars, a duo of super dapper older English lads that I use noise cancelling headphones to help me filter out excessive sound that overstimulates me but I’m usually not actually listening to anything when I’m there. Mario plays a great selection so I usually tap in and chat for a while. they said they always knew I could hear them and they thought I was doing it for style (cute lol) the guys were super compassionate about my expression and were like ‘I’ve never heard of that before but I’m glad you do that to make yourself comfortable’. I gave another random customer a fit check. he came in and asked if his coat was too formal for the rest of the outfit he had on. it was a sort of navy lined jacket but he had well tailored corduroy bottoms some trainers and a brown and yellow addidas hoodie zipped up underneath. he had some sort of business casual meeting to attend I said the proportions of the lined coat matched his bottoms so he looked tidy and I appreciated the colour and texture combos. he said thanks for the review and left.

I forgot the guy at the park’s name. I’ve never seen him since, not at the park nor the cafe. I didn’t ask for contact details cause I just sort of intuitively thought I would likely see him local since we both lived in the area and it’s not that deep. I still think I probably will bump into him idk how or when but when I do I’ll thank him for introducing me to this place and give him my review of the music he put me on and carfet nobu and wata igarashi. i wrote the first edition of my newsletter in the park that day. i think i would share it with him too since the music inspired a lot of the expression. I felt too shy to share at the time despite him asking.

once upon a time my inner monologue would bark at me for speaking so much and perceived my curiosity and ability to engage as gullible and flighty. but man every fucking conversation every random interaction and exchange of resonance touches me and just gives me more glitter to put in my mental pocket. the juices of this life. the pure and innocent exchange with no expectation just absorbing what is good is something I value on a day to day basis. that conversation with that stranger that exchange of smile with a passerby that person who let u through the door - people you’ll never see again. or maybe will. who knows. thanks for the part u play in giving me a glimmer of vigor. in a life that is transient in essence larger concepts like joy, compassion and love are infinite.

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the-mother-of-lions · 1 year

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hi, your overlay tutorial is sooooo beautiful! I wonder if you could make tutorial for overlaying image and gif as seen in this Natasha edit /post/693119366952288256/pscentral-event-06-favorite it's sooo beautiful!

Hi there! I just want to make sure you know that I am not the same creator of that gifset, but I can definitely explain how this person made that gifset.

This is the Natasha gifset, as you can see it’s gorgeous.

Before I begin I want to start by saying it’s totally fine to take inspiration from other gifs, to see something that someone has done and replicate it in your own way. With giffing, at the end of the day, we’re all using the same source material, the same amount of scenes and minutes of screen time to create something so there are going to be similarities in gifs across the same fandom. However, it is never okay to steal someone’s gifs and repost them as your own, nor is it okay to directly and blatantly copy someone’s gifset frame for frame to post even if you make the gifs yourself. Copying to learn a technique is fine so long as that gifset stays in your drafts or stays in your groupchat.

It is always a good idea to give credit where credit is due when giffing, in that if you use a text post/tweet/a specific set of graphics or theme, to credit the person you got the idea from by linking back to where you got it.

I’m assuming you’re asking specifically about the third gif. The process is going to be similar to the one I detailed here, however the gif on the left has either a grayscale or black and white filter on it, or you can even open a Hue/Sat layer and take out as much saturation as you want. It all depends on the look you’re going for!

The gif on the right has cyan added to it, whether they did that with a brush or layers idk and I’m not going to try to recreate it exactly, so if you want to know for sure I recommend asking them. But I can show you a similar process with Photopea, which is what I’m assuming you’re wanting (although to be completely honest I primarily use Photoshop now😂😭)/

Lately in my own gifs I’ve been doing blend types other than Lighten (like Screen for example), and this kind of looks like that but I could be wrong! Again, it all just depends on what kind of look you want, the vibe or aesthetic you’re going for.

The tutorial I make for you will use Lucas from Stranger Things S4 because that is the only live action on my hard drive at the moment😂😭 I mainly gif anime now (anime sideblog: @icythot-bakubitch) and I could absolutely do a tutorial with it but it won’t come out the same as what you’re wanting to see.

This tutorial is made on the basis that you already know 1) how to make a gif 2) how to make overlays and 3) have a good sense of familiarity with photopea/photoshop.

If you don’t have those things, you’re welcome to look at my other tutorials:

Make A Gif | Anti-White Washing (BBC Merlin) (OFMD) | Overlays

Please remember that this gif is made with Photopea and not Photoshop, so there is going to be a deficit in quality compared to the set you’ve shown me. Your quality will come out much better if you’re able to use Photoshop.

Basically all I really did was add a Black and White layer to the bottom gif, making adjustments to keep as much quality as possible and adjusting the brightness to my taste. The original gif is already pretty dark, I probably should have picked something else but for a tutorial I’m not that pressed.

On the top gif, I used Selective Color and Hue/Sat to change the cyan of his background to purple.

Using a soft round brush I cleaned up their faces and got rid of any parts of the background that I felt was too distracting.

Attached below is a side by side of the original and recolor respectively, and then a screenshot of my layers.

Again, this is my way of doing things. It’s going to look different from someone else’s. Focus on finding a style that you like and that works for you. Just because a style of giffing is popular or something a lot of people are doing doesn’t mean that you have to do that.

I’m sure there are better or more efficient ways of doing things as well! And there isn’t one set way of doing things, this is not a be all end all of doing overlays or giffing.

If you have questions regarding the Natasha set more specifically, I highly recommend asking the creator personally. All I’m doing is explaining the recoloring process when it comes to overlay gifs as it applies to Photopea.

#stranger things #tutorial #photoshop tutorial #photopea #gif tutorial #lucas sinclair #liongifs #my tutorials #asks #anonymous

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hotsforharlow · 2 years

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hi,

what about one where jack and reader have been roped into doing a lie detector test that urban bought for fun. maybe it’s just reader, jack, urban and neelam in a hotel room and decide to set it up. urban asks reader and jack questions about one another since it’s just the 4 of them there. juicy, maybe ends in smut idk thank youuu love how u capture jacks personality so well <3

AN: Hi, I hope this is what you wanted xx

You didn’t know whose idea this had been, but you were too nervous to stop it now. The set up was full of jokes and you couldn’t help but shake your head as Jack tried to be comfortable with that body of his. “Does this even work?” You couldn’t help but ask and move the wires as you watched the paper move.

“Of course it does.” Urban hummed and you had to roll your eyes at him. “And you are letting him do this?” You asked Neelam. She only giggled and settled herself on the sofa as your heart began to speed up. Your eyes locked onto Jack who seemed to be enjoying this a little too much. Of course he was, you thought to yourself.

“Stop being a baby.” Urban hummed without any malice as he gently placed all the equipment on you. “You are doing it next.” You pout and try to settle yourself down. “Have you got something to hide?” Jack couldn’t help but tease. “Shut up Jack.” You mumbled, blushing madly as you ducked your head. “Okay, then, we’ll start off slow and easily.” Urban hummed mostly to himself. You began to relax at those words. “Y/N, do you think Jack is a good rapper?” Urban hummed teasingly as he lounged back into the chair. “Yes, of course.” You babbled out without thinking. Jack's soft smile warmed your heart.

“Ahh, you’ve got a fan.” Urban winked over at Jack who shook his head. “Do you think Y/N is pretty?” Urban continued. “Of course. Yes.” Jack’s answer tumbled from his mouth without a care in the world as you tried to stop yourself from blushing. You ducked your head down and hoped these questions would stay friendly. “Y/N, have you joined the mile high club?” Urban asked with a straight face as you continued to blush brightly. “No…” You answered truthfully, blushing even more as the paper moved and showed off your truthiness. “Have you Jack?” Urban turned to his friend; knowing full well the answer.

“Yes, of course.” He answered as confidently as ever and you hoped one day to be like that but you knew it was never going to happen. A spark of jealousy moved through you as images of him with another girl came over your mind. “How many boyfriends have you had, Y/N?” Urban hummed. “Oh..um, just a couple..” You babbled out, blushing even more as you looked anywhere but Jack. “A couple..just two then?” Urban prodded like the little bitch he could be and you could only nod your head. “That’s cute.” He hummed with Jack chuckling and enjoying finding out about you.

“And you, Jack?” Urban teased as he watched the lie detector move up and down. “Dude, you know I can’t count that many.” Jack hummed, without care. You chewed on your bottom lip and locked eyes with him for a quick moment. He winked at you and had you ducking your head once more. The session carried on; only becoming more and more spicier as the night progressed and you couldn’t help but get more and more aroused. “Right, then I think we’ve learnt a lot about each other.” Urban chuckled. You locked eyes with Jack once more before beginning to move the wires from you.

“Can’t believe we did that.” You mumbled mostly to yourself as you ran your fingers through your hair. “I enjoyed it.” Jack hummed, a smirk playing on his face as you shook your head. “Of course you did.” You giggled. “Well, I’m going to bed.” Neelan muttered with a soft yawn as she hugged you goodbye. “Me too.” Urban called, downing the last of the beer. You didn’t catch the wink he shot over to Jack as he pecked your cheek before leaving. “Are you going to bed too?” You softly asked Jack when Urban left the room. “Do you want me to?” Jack asked, looking you up and down in a not so subtle way.

“I mean, you can stay..if you want.” You whispered as he stepped closer and your own eyes began to look over him. “Yeah?” Jack hummed, his thumb moving to brush your cheek and you found yourself leaning in, “Yeah.” A moment passed before he began to lean in and you moved to meet his lips. You softly whimpered and your hand moved up his chest to clutch at the top he was wearing. Your eyes began to flutter as you tried to compose yourself. “Wanted to do that for ages.” Jack whispered against your lips. You blushed sweetly at his words and moved to duck your head down.

“Hey, don’t hide from me.” He cooed, softly cupping your face for a moment as you lost yourself in those blues of his. You didn’t waste any time leaning in for another kiss as you looped your arms around his neck. He gently backed you up against the wall and you wrapped your legs around his waist. His hands slowly moved up and under your top. Goosebumps spread across your soft skin at his touch. Those blues of his locked onto you once more, “Are you sure?” Jack softly asked, stroking your cheek. “Yes…” You whispered breathlessly before leaning in to hotly capture his lips once more.

#jack harlow x reader #requests

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und8e2ff · 2 years

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so... I called Seiya a fake and a fraud the other day and...

I might have been wrong?

Recapping with the images I used in the linked post...

him do his lil dance

This is what I got when I taped some paper on my monitor and traced the path of his arm movements

This is the Pegasus constellation

chile...

yall about to watch me lose 5 years of my life for the second time in 48 hours

how special does that make YOU feel?

okay, SO-

The Pegasus constellation in real life actually appears in the sky flipped both vertically and horizontally from the picture I used in the last post. That's how the Pegasus constellation appears behind Seiya.

but here (below) is how it appears in the sky in real life

Also, while reviewing the GIF specifically, I noticed that the Pegasus constellation behind Seiya when he's channeling his cosmo has extra stars for the back legs of the Pegasus.

In both images I've posted so far of the Pegasus constellation, those stars aren't there. At first, I thought they were extra stars to make the background more "balanced" with more stars to outline Seiya's silhouette and to further frame him as the focus of the shot.

so... that was f a l s e

The extra stars for the legs in that GIF/animation are actually the Andromeda constellation.

The Pegasus constellation is made of the Great Square of (the) Pegasus and a few more stars that make the two front legs and the head of the horse.

The Pegasus and Andromeda constellations share a star in the Great Square called Alpheratz. The Andromeda constellation, while being its own thing and not actually being part of the Pegasus constellation, looks like the back legs of the Pegasus.

This explains away the extra stars in the GIF as being accurate to astrology and not just artistic choice.

All of this is very interesting and has fuckall to do with the actual point I came here to address today.

sew...

I started to play around a bit with the pathing of Seiya's arm movements and see if there was any, and I mean ANY possible way it could really be matching up with the Pegasus constellation.

and honestly???

ye, it kinda works

First, let me clean up what I traced out yesterday.

Okay, so when I clean up the path and separate the two, this is what it looks like.

This is the exact path his arms move in and I've marked every place where his arms change trajectory/curve with numbers so you can have a better idea of the order he's hitting which points since there is quite a bit of overlap.

The Pegasus constellation has 15 stars but I don't think he's hitting like... every individual star? More like tracing over where each one roughly is?

this'll make more sense in a bit...

Alright, so-

Earlier I discussed the orientation/direction of the Pegasus constellation as it appears behind Seiya and how it will appear in most images when you look it up. The head is up top and to the left with the Great Square, it's body, to the bottom right.

But again, the way it appears in the sky in real life is flipped both vertically and horizontally with its head to the bottom right and Alpheratz, the farthest out corner of the body/Great Square connected to Andromeda (the hind legs), to the top left.

I've tried countless times to fit different images of the Pegasus constellation into the outline and while it never quite fits, I've realized that in spite of that, the path still kind of works.

sooooo . . .

I'm gonna try to get an image of the Pegasus constellation that includes the names of all the stars in it. This'll help me explain the path and how it hits/curves around or through each part of the constellation.

And then I'm going to show you what it looks like when you trace the path of each hand over the constellation.

Like I said earlier, if you draw out the path itself and then try to use a photoeditor to like, idk... 'superimpose' a stock image of the Pegasus constellation into it, it won't really fit like that. But I think I've found a way to make them align.

This is the best image I could find of the Pegasus constellation with almost all of the stars named.

Sadly, I couldn't find an image like this with the constellation facing the same way it does behind Seiya, but I'll mark the paths and do my best to explain.

ye, I think I'm about to hit the image limit

I think it's clear where Seiya's hands start. His left hand starts on the star Alpheratz and his right hand starts either on Baham or Enif, but I think it starts on Baham.

Actually, it might start at Homan.

I'll start with his left hand, though.

So, like I said earlier, Seiya's left hand starts on Alpheratz, which is way in the bottom right corner. From there it does a HUGE diagonal left upward curve to Enif. Enif is the furthest star in the upper left of the constellation, it's the Pegasus's nose.

And from Enif, it swerves really far back right again to Algenib. Algenib is the star above Alpheratz in the Great Square (the upper right corner). From Algenib it goes a little bit back left to Markab, the upper left corner of the Great Square. From Markab it goes down to Scheat, the lower left corner of the Great Square, and then upwards, diagonal and right back up to Algenib.

The final movement is a HUGE downwards crescent from Algenib that sweeps under Alpheratz to the left, through the legs of the Pegasus, and up, not quite to but very close, to Enif again.

Actually, on the first swing from Alpheratz to Enif, I think it might swing through the stars Matar and ι or Iota Pegasi which are the stars in the middle of the bottom and top leg respectively.

Alright, looked at it a little more and Seiya's right hand very likely starts at Homan. Homan is a star in the middle of the Pegasus's neck.

From Homan, Seiya's arm makes a pretty sharp crescent to the right, it doesn't go through anything, but when it comes back to the left, it passes through Baham, which is the top of the Pegasus's head. From Baham, he makes a massive, downward sweeping motion that I believe is going through the star at the tip of the top foot.

The Pegasus's feet are out in front of it with one leg positioned over the other.

I think that star is called Kappa Pegasi? In the picture, it just looks like κ which is probably supposed to be short for κ Peg. Kappa Pegasi is the second star after Sadalbari, which is the bent knee of the top leg of the Pegasus.

Both of the legs are coming out of Scheat at the lower left of the Great Square.

From there it continues to curve rightward and it goes by, quite possibly through, the tip of the bottom foot of the Pegasus. The star at the end of that leg is represented in the image as π, short for π Peg which is Pi Pegasi. From Pi Pegasi, it continues its loop and goes through Scheat where both legs start.

From Scheat it arcs up and to the left to Enif, the Pegasus's nose, and finally, from that point, it swings slightly downward and far right to the upper right corner of the Great Square, Algenib.

Edit - Honestly, that last arc was probably supposed to go just a bit lower and hit Sadalbari. I think that's the only major named star I haven't hit yet. but oh well

Actually...

Seiya might be crossing all of the major/named stars. oh wow...

The attention to detail is astounding, high key.

but bruh- I really went in on this lil boi the other day

I came for his stance. I came for his character; I deadass called him a liar at one point.

chile... I came for his eyesight

Marin was out there catchin strays-

okay, girlies. so i redid the math and the math IS mathin, but liek...

bitches cain't carry decimals

Hi there, this is your Captain bitches speaking~ We're almost off this flight ✈️🌠

chile... nah, Cause I dragged tf out that poor boi in my last post and I was wrong. Not just for draggin him and not mindin my business but because I was actually, factually wrong.

ima go on now and let him do his lil Disney Cosmo channel thang mid-fight and sit down someplace

im sorreh, mah boi...

but ye, Within 48 hours we learned net zero information in which the person that debunked me was like... future me.

Anyways...

Much love and thanks to anyone who reads this thing.

And a lil extra love and thanks to people who read the first post too~

💖 * 💖 * 💖 * 💖 * 💖

please go outside