#Fish was never here /j

[silusvesuius]

this tree from my new drawing looking goated afffffff 👑👑

[tobyneedssleep]

I just found out you can buy detailed 3d puzzle sets online. Where has this been my whole life. Why did I not think of this sooner. What the fuck.

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[suncoved]

STOP IT RAFE, YOU'RE BEING MEAN! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; bestfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary; rafe has a strict rule that if you ever leave anywhere, you tell him. and when you break that rule, he goes ballistic (bsf!rafe cameron x reader)

warnings ; angst! verbal fighting, angry!rafe, kinda mean rafe, theyre both annoyingly oblivious.. warning this did not turn out how i planned it to be but im also not mad at it, idkkkk

to say you were bored was an understatement.

it was a regular rowdy saturday night in the outerbanks, this nights party being at a random kooks house on the figure eight whose name you couldn't quite remember

you were nursing a forgotten red solo cup of punch in your hand, crowd-watching to pass the time.

it wasn't normal that rafe actually succeeded in convincing you to come to these things. because as much as you liked chatting with spoiled self-absorbed kooks over disgustingly sweet punch, you'd rather stay cuddled up in your fluffy pyjamas and watch sappy romcoms on rafe's couch.

but nevertheless, here you were. dreading every decision you had ever made up to that point as you watched rafe from across the room. a blonde kook girl climbing over him and straddling his hips, sitting on his lap as he smirked.

you knew you really had no right being mad at him because you weren’t dating.

but from the start of your more than 10 year friendship, rafe made it clear that you were and always will be his.

so why didn’t that rule go both ways?

with all the thoughts bouncing around in your head, you failed to hear a certain blonde pouges voice echo around you.

you snapped out of your state, consciousness returning to your mind as a hand was waved repeatedly in your face.

“hey! you there princess?” a smile adorned the boys face, a ratty snapback placed backwards on his blonde hair.

“yeah, jj. right here” you joked, smiling brightly back at him as you brought your cup up to your lips.

“thought we lost you there for a bit princess? what’d you doing standing here all alone?” jj asked, surprised to see your constant kook king shadow nowhere to be seen.

“just people watching, the usual. where’s kie?” you quickly changed the subject, wanting anything to get your mind off of rafe.

“around here somewhere i hope. gonna’ try to round everyone up to we can get outta here. early morning for us cut goers tomorrow, fish to catch and things to steal” you giggled at his joke, earning an even wider grin on his face.

you always liked jj. you thought he was funny, and he was the most loyal person to his friends that you knew. and despite his manic tendencies, you trusted him.

“have a nice night j. drive safe!” you said, watching him wink at you before he disappeared into the crowd.

with jj gone, you were left to your own thoughts agian, which was never a good thing.

you glanced over again at rafe sitting comfortably on the couch on the deck. the light from inside illuminating his face as he leaned over to the table, picking up a small bag of white powder and handing it to a random touran.

you bit your lip as you noticed the same blonde from before clinging to his side, rafe seeming unbothered but making no move to push her off.

god, you couldn’t even imagine how rafe would react if he saw you speaking to jj earlier. so why is it that he can literally let a girl dry hump him in the middle of a party and you shouldn’t care?

you didn’t know why you cared though, because rafe is you best friend, nothing more.

right?

you didn’t have time to think about that right now though, you just needed to get the fuck out of this party right now or you were gonna explode.

an idea clicked in your brain and jj dragged a drunk john b towards the entrance of the house, kiara and pope following quickly behind.

you decided that this was now or never, placing your red solo cup onto a random table as you walked towards them.

“hey jj!” you called out, his head immediately snapping towards you. “you think you could give me a ride home?”

it was nearly 30 minutes later that rafe noticed you were no longer in your spot in corner of the house. business was coming to a halt as he sold his last few grams of cocaine, a heavy wad of cash safely resting in his back pocket.

his eyes scanned the crowd for your face, but you were no where to be seen.

and rafe was starting to freak the fuck out.

he knew you wouldn’t go upstairs to any bedrooms, or go out for an impulse swim in the pool. and he knew most of all that you wouldn’t just leave without telling him, and the notification box in his voice remained empty from your contact.

he ran his hand roughly through his hair, pulling aggressively at the roots and cussing to himself frustrated.

his eyes widened as he saw your friend in the crowd, interrupting what ever useless conversation she was having, because until he knew you were safe, nothing was more important.

he asked rudely where you were, watching as her face morphed into shock that rafe was talking to her. because well, if it’s not plotting on the pouges or selling drugs, rafe doesn’t interact with anyone but you or his friends.

“i-i im not sure. i saw her leave like a bit less than half an hour ago. i thought she told you, she always does”

rafe clenched his jaw, hundreds and thousands of thoughts running through his head. “was she alone?”

“n-no. she was with that jj guy and his friends” your friend murmured, nervous she was ratting you out to the scariest guy in the whole of kildare.

it was safe to say that rafe was fucking pissed.

it took him less than a few seconds to put his keys into the ignition of his jeep and drive illegally fast to your house. you liked to piss him off often when you were in a mood, but never with your safety.

rafe never fucked with your safety, ever.

he murmured venomous cusses to himself and he walked towards your house, the pebbles from your mothers perfect drive way crunching under his feet as he speed to your door.

he made a beeline to the entrance of your home, the white arches welcoming and the doorway dimly lit by the porch lights.

he planted his feet straight on the 'welcome home' door mat, lifting his balled fist up to the door and sending booming knocks to the wood panel.

his knuckles were white as he clenched his fists so hard together there was sure to be crimson-red crescent indents from his fingernails. he was fuming.

the click of the lock releasing from the door snapped him out of his thoughts, the door handle turning and the lobby of the inside of your house quickly coming into view.

he locked eyes with your figure immediately, a pink fluffy towel in your hand as you dried your hair. you were only wearing a pair of long socks and rafes shirt which reached more than halfway down your thighs, your face bare of makeup.

you jumped as you saw the look on his face, an anger prevalent in his stare that you had never seen directed at you. fuck. you were in some deep shit.

you parted your lips to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. for the first time in your life, you were scared of rafe. not that he was going to harm you physically, no, never that.

but you knew how much he cared about you and your safety. you just wished he cared that much about your feelings. you wanted him to see that.

"rafe" you said, your voice coming out as a whisper as you watch the lines on his forehead crease together as thousands of thoughts ran through his head.

"what the fuck were you thinking?" he spat as he pushed you as softly as he could into the house so he could close the door, worried the cold of the night was going to make you shiver.

you didn't have time to answer before he started again, running a hand roughly through his hair as he huffed. "you just left? you fucking left a party at night without even texting me, and you let that fucking pouge drive you home!"

you rolled your eyes at the last statement, this was all about jj? "so that's all you care about? me going home with a boy i've known since third grade who just so happens to live on the cut? you don't give a shit about me, you just care about this stupid kook pouge rivalry!"

"don't say what you know isn't true ma. you know i care about you more than i care about myself." he stated, nearly all the anger in him draining out as he saw your eyes begin to fill with tears. he couldn't handle seeing you cry.

"how do i know you care about me rafe? because you don't seem to show it." you sighed pushing yourself as far away from him as you could, your back pushing up against the wall.

"don't fucking say to me y/n. i've loved you from the moment i met you." you finally stopped looking at the floor, lifting your chin so you made eye contact with him.

"stop it rafe, you're being mean" you whispered, mostly to yourself more than rafe. you couldn't listen to him say how much he loved and cared about you for one more second. not when you still had the picture of him being essentially dry-humped in the middle of a party by a girl you didn't even know.

"ma i love you. you know that. you're my world, my favourite girl. why are you fighting this?" rafe said, trying to hold you wrist in his hand before you quickly pulled it away.

"bec-because you can't just say all this then turn around and have make outs with other girls right in front of me. it-its not fair." you spoke, the tears finally making their way down your cheeks in steady streams.

rafe physically flinched at your statement, his palms getting sweaty and his heart rate increasing into rapid beats. was he actually going to admit his love for you right now, like this?

"what are you saying y/n?" he asked, his voice cracking as his face fell. his mind racing with how many outcomes could come out of this conversation.

"that i love you, you idiot!"

[honeylations]

KIM MINJEONG x FEM!READER

Prompt: you kept your pornstar job a secret from your curious roommate, but when an abrupt incident comes up a few minutes before filming, there was only one way to solve it

Warnings/Notes: pornstar reader, g!p Minjeong, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, dirty talking

“Jeongie~ I’m off to work now. There’s chicken in the fridge if you’re hungry”

Your roommate pauses the penguin documentary she’s watching on the big screen to sit up on the couch and pout. “You’re working again? It’s like you don’t want to spend time with me”

“Of course I want to spend time with you, Jeongie! But it’s important for me to work otherwise we wouldn’t be living in this amazing apartment!” You reasoned with jazz hands as a bonus.

“Oh speaking of apartment. I have my share for this week’s rent. Did you want me to send it through your bank details or cash?” Your adorable roommate asked with her phone ready in her hand but you waved it off.

“I’ll cover your rent this week. Don’t pay me back I swear to God”

“Again?! Y/n this is the 3rd week you’ve covered for me and I don’t feel nice about it”

You shrugged. “I just got a good pay”

“Right. A good pay. What job is this Y/n”

Checking the time on your watch, you pouted cutely at your roommate. “I’m gonna be late. See you later, love you!”

Minjeong sighed and sat back into the couch, very much lost in thought. What kind of high paying job were you exactly working at to be covering rent so easily?

“The hell do you mean Yunjin cancelled?!” You yelled at the director who was panicking just as much as you.

“Look, all she told me was that it was a personal emergency. We’ve tried calling Kazuha and Minji but both girls are busy with other schedules so unless you know someone that can fill in last minute, we’re postponing this until next week”

Just as the director started to walk away, a bulb flashed over your head. “W-Wait director-nim, I know someone…Give me a couple seconds to call her okay?”

“Make it quick Y/n. I’m booked today”

Fishing out your phone, you pressed on Minjeong’s contact and she answered quicker than expected. “J-Jeongie?”

“Hey Y/n, you never usually call during your shifts. Is everything okay?”

“Jeongie I really~ need your help with something but I can’t tell you what it is until you come here”

There was a short silence from the other line. “Uh…Okay? What’s your address?”

“I’ll message it after the call. Look your best”

Minjeong stared at her phone with confusion when you hung up. Look her best? Minjeong has little to no sense of fashion other than the millions of oversized flannels and cargo pants sitting in her closet.

Thankfully already showered, she simply put on a black and grey flannel with baggy jeans before checking the address you sent and driving her way over.

Moments later she was walking into the huge building, finding you on a set that looked like a bedroom, surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

“Y/n?” She questioned almost breathlessly once she realised you were only wearing a bathrobe.

“Jeongie! Thank you for coming. Now listen, I’ll cut this as short as I can because we don’t have much time, but I’m a pornstar, okay?”

“What?!”

“That’s why I’m loaded with money. The person that I was supposed to be filming with today cancelled on me and I couldn’t think of anyone else to replace her other than you”

Minjeong took a step back with wide eyes. “Nah uh, no way Y/n! What makes you think I’m good enough to film porn?!”

You quickly took her hands out of comfort. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot last second, but this is highly important to me Jeongie..” you pleaded and Minjeong couldn’t resist.

The taller girl stared into your eyes then the pout of your lips.

She let out a heavy sigh and squeezed your hands. “Fine. I’ll do it”

You squealed and jumped into a hug, peppering her face with kisses. “Thank you thank you thank you! You’re the best!”

“You owe me big time” Your roommate pointed a finger, making you giggle.

“Of course! Now head into that room with our staff. They’ll help you prepare”

In a blink of an eye, Minjeong was in her ‘costume’ (which was nothing but a black shirt and grey sweatpants) while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You wore a white camisole with no bra underneath and baby pink panties, standing in front of Minjeong with a big smile. “Hey you”

“I feel weird Y/n. I-I don’t know if I can do this anymore” She cutely mumbled, eyes darting across the room in fear.

Minjeong felt your small hands cup her face, forcing her to look at you. “Relax, baby. I’ll take good care of you I promise”

“W-What’s the storyline anyways”

“None actually. Just a wholesome home sex video”

“Whenever you’re ready Y/n” the director called out, making you nod.

Your hands rubbed gently at Minjeong’s nape and slowly going down to her shoulders for a reassuring squeeze.

“You can do whatever you want to me” you whispered against your friend’s lips and then closing the gap to get a proper taste.

You were surprised to feel Minjeong kiss back eagerly like an expert, even sliding her tongue in as she grabbed your hips and pulled you to sit on her lap.

For a couple minutes you two were sucking each others faces.

And the next minute you were sucking her surprisingly huge cock. She had your hair fisted in a make shift ponytail, throwing her head back when her tip rubbed at the back of your throat. “Fuck Y/n, I should’ve known you were a whore”

Oh? That was new.

Your so called innocent Minjeongie dirty talking? Your cunt clenched around nothing.

Minjeong forced you off her dick to pin you down on the bed, lightly pecking the hickies she had left around your neck and collarbones. “You got me so down bad, Y/n-ie. I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop having you like this”

Whimpering beneath her, you held onto her shoulders tightly. “Have me anytime you want Minjeongie”

“Ain’t that sweet of ya” She smirked as her eyes were fixed onto your glossy ones, confusing you slightly.

Then you felt the pleasurable stretch in your pussy when Minjeong’s cock welcomed itself inside, arching your back in the process. “What the fuck, Jeongie, you’re so big a-ahh!”

“The biggest you’ve ever had, darl?” Your roommate tilted her head, trying not to let your tightness get the best of her.

“Mhm the biggest!”

“Good. Then I’ll make sure your pussy is only made to take me”

You littered Minjeong’s back with scratches that started to bleed out, clearly seen from the camera crew which they zoomed in on. The pain didn’t bother Minjeong, not when she had started pounding into you mercilessly.

She licked her lips at your boobs bouncing with each thrust. She just couldn’t resist sucking on them like a baby, addicted to how sexy they looked when wet with her spit.

“Your pussy is sucking me in so fucking good, baby” Minjeong panted in your ear.

Then she felt a sudden warmth spray all over her lower body.

You were squirting while moaning Minjeong’s name, even reaching down to ferociously rub at your clit to ride out your mind blowing orgasm.

“F-Fuck that’s so hot, Y/n” Minjeong hissed, not planning to stop her hips even after you came.

“W-Wait Jeongie—AH!” You tried to stop her but she couldn’t care less about how sensitive you were.

She laid you on your stomach, bringing your ass up and going back to destroying your pussy, feeling herself go deeper with the new position.

“Fuck! Fuck Minjeong-ah! You’re gonna break me!” You sobbed into the pillow that you were drowning with drool.

Minjeong laid over your back and drilled impossibly deeper. “Fucking take it whore. I own this pussy now”

Then you felt a sudden sting on your shoulder blade, realising Minjeong was biting down into your skin. Not hard enough to bleed, but hard enough to leave a long lasting bruise.

“Y/n…hah Y/n, I’m gonna fucking cum…”

Your insides became hot from the cum she blew into your cunt and thankfully your roommate’s hips were coming to a stop.

“Shit…Fuck that was so good, Y/n. Thank you” Minjeong whispered in your ear, kissing it afterwards.

“CUT! This was probably the best one you’ve filmed Y/n! Great job!…Y/n?” The director called but was left with no answer.

Minjeong frowned and leaned further down to look at your face. “Y/n? He’s talking to you”

You were knocked out cold. Little snores and whimpers escaping your lips with Minjeong’s cock still inside your abused cunt. “Has this happened before?” Minjeong asked the staff, and they all shook their heads.

“No, never. You must’ve really fucked her good”

“O-Oh no, I’m sorry! W-What should I do?” Minjeong panicked and made sure she didn’t move so much as you slept below her.

“Wow, you’re very different to how you were on camera. I like it. Ever considered taking this as a full time job?”

Minjeong put a hand up, completely declining the offer. “Appreciate it, but I was only willing to do this for Y/n”

Director nodded and placed a finger on his chin. “Interesting. Hope Y/n brings you over more in the future. You two can rest there for a bit longer while we pack up”

The short hair girl nodded and pulled her cock out as slow and gently as she could to not wake you up. Then she laid you on her chest with the covers covering both bodies. “Can’t wait to do this with you again, Y/n” Minjeong smiled and kissed your head, letting the sleepiness take over her too.

[ghcstao3]

“you don’t smoke.”

it takes a lot to startle ghost these days, but then again, soap has always been the exception, hasn’t he?

“come again?”

“you don’t smoke,” says soap. “not anymore.”

ghost does his best to keep him breathing even. “yeah, well. things change, j—soap.”

things being the bullet in soap’s head. things being the memory loss, the losing johnny. things being the doctors telling ghost there's no guarantee that soap will remember anything; remember him, what they were to each other. yet here they stand—ghost trying for a smoke in one of his secret haunts (ha), and an amnesiac soap that should be in medical or under price's supervision but has instead found his way here.

old habits die hard, ghost supposes.

"what are you doing here anyway, sergeant? surely you have something more important than bein' up here."

in ghost's periphery, soap shrugs. the expression he wears is still infected with the blankness of unfamiliarity, but ghost would be stupid to think there isn't some reason as to why soap has somehow found himself here, in a location he surely couldn't remember, if he couldn't so much as recall ghost's name without a reminder.

"got sick of medical," soap replies plainly. "my feet led me here."

ghost hums, though he knows it isn't the full truth. he balances a cigarette between his lips, fishes his lighter from his pocket, and lights the smoke. soap says nothing.

he doesn't know what to make of anything, as soap allows him to indulge in silence, and he doesn't know whether or not he'd rather this be a one-off kind of thing. on one hand, this could mean that soap might start remembering other little things, might start picking up the pieces of his past, their past. but on the other, if this is only a one-time occurrence, it might leave ghost a little more heartbroken than he already is—which could be a good thing, if only so he might eventually, finally move on from what could never be, not ever again.

"you shouldn't smoke, lt," soap says quietly, the moment ghost flicks the butt of his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot.

ghost pauses, caught off guard by the nickname he'd yet to hear again since the incident. he feels soap's eyes on him, unwavering, oblivious.

the lieutenant clears his throat in an attempt to play off his surprise. "focus on your own issues first, soap."

ghost starts past him, just barely fighting the urge to clap the sergeant's shoulder as he passes. his chest feels tight as he leaves soap behind, breath caught in his throat as he tries not to look like he's running away.

he can't do this. he can't—he can't. can't bear to have soap so close yet so far from reach. can't bear to have these glimpses into the past taunting him as punishment for innumerable sins. ghost can't do this.

how he wishes for things to have gone differently. in which way, he still isn't sure, but he thinks that anything else would be less painful than this.

[iluvloganhowlett]

DATING LOGAN HOWLETT HCS ｡𖦹°‧

sfw headcannons of how i imagine it to be like dating logan howlett

warnings: tbh not any, j a lot of fluff

- it def took logan a while to open up to you, given his past, but once he did it was awesome

- once he got comfortable enough, he’d literally never stop talking, which is ironic considering how annoyed he gets whenever wade talks

- he’d always talk sm shit on scott to you, knowing you’d listen

^^ “has anyone ever brought to your attention how annoying scott is?” “yes baby, you have, every day.”

- he’s def a big cuddlebug behind closed doors ofc

- when you’re in public tho, it’s a diff story

- the most pda you’ll ever prob get is an arm around the shoulder or a ruffle of your hair

- maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll press his lips to your hair for a while, despite getting ridiculed by storm and the others

- though you’re also a mutant and can handle yourself, he can’t help but feel his stomach drop once a mission is over and you’re even slightly injured

^^ “y/n! y/n are you okay?” “logan im fine,” “you’re bleeding,” “barely!”

- when you guys fight or argue, he pretends to be mad at you to your face, but as soon as you run off he’s frantically asking around to see if anyone’s seen you

- he tries, he really does, but hes not very good at keeping track of anniversaries and things of that sort

- however your birthday is something he’ll never forget

- you guys def share a room at the school

^^ that being said, logan def has waited on your bed for you to get out of the shower, admire you, then make his way out

- you guys def argue a lot, but they’re not big arguments

^^ you’re both very stubborn people who always think they’re right, so when it comes to a disagreement between you two, things don’t always go down well

^^ “you sound fucking stupid, respectfully” “i hate you, logan!” “i love you too, doll.”

- logan, too, would do anything in this power to even get a small chuckle out of you—and everyone else notices too

- the switch in his demeanor after he puts you in a good mood is almost unmissable it’s crazy

- i might’ve already said this but he acts all cold hearted towards everyone but he just has a soft spot for you and he can’t control it

- not exactly sfw here but logan will talk dirty or make dirty jokes any chance he gets like a 15 year old boy

^^ “this missions gonna be long and it’s gonna be hard you guys,” storm begins as logan leans down slightly to whisper in your ear, “y’know what else is long and hard?” he asks, soon getting cut off by your elbow going straight to his gut

that’s all i could think of😔 hope u enjoyed

taglist!!

@velvrei @spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @zeeader @pink-jello-fish @twinky-wink @malfoys-demigod @seamlessepiphany @withafoll @lulawantmula

[pankowperfection]

His to Keep

Warnings: slightly dark JJ, branding, oral (f receiving), possessive JJ, 18+

A/N: haven't written anything in a while so please be nice. Unedited

You'd hurried to keep up with him as he ran away from the council meeting, the intent to cause some trouble clear in his eyes. You knew you shouldn't leave him alone which is why you found yourself standing idly by, watching in equal parts awe and horror as he took his rage out.

You'd never seen him like this, so reckless and angry. You hated to admit it but a very small part of you was extremely turned on at the sight of him losing control.

After what felt like hours you had finally convinced him to head to your secret hide out, the perfect spot to lay low until the heat died down.

He was pacing back and forth, clearly still extremely upset about what had gone down.

"I am just so sick of this shit y/n. I never get to keep anything, it all always manages to slip right through my fingers."

He still had that wild look in his eyes. Sweat coating his tan skin, hair perfectly messy. He'd honestly never looked sexier.

"That's not true J and you know it," you attempt to reason with him. "Just look. I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere."

He gives you a dark chuckle, shadows dancing in his blue eyes in a way that makes him look nothing like the care-free surfer boy you were used to dealing with.

"Right. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before you leave too. Everyone always does."

He turns his back to you, leaning into the window frame and watching for any signs of trouble below. The way his shirt is clinging to his muscular back has your thoughts racing, desperate to find a way to calm him down.

An idea starts to form in the back of your mind, the image of him with the flame from the lighter dancing in his eyes flickering through your head, reminding you of the heat that had flushed through your system while you watched him take his own twisted sense of justice.

"I'm not going anywhere JJ. Let me prove it to you."

You quickly walk over to him, fishing around in his pocket before finding the lighter. You can see the questions dancing through his mind, wondering what you could possibly be up to. You hold it up between the two of you, knowing what you need to do to prove your loyalty.

"Mark me. Brand me with your ring so that everyone knows that I belong to you. That you own me. Permanently."

His pupils dilate, the black almost overtaking the blue as he scans your face for any kind of uncertainty. When he doesn't find any you watch the hunger take over. His lips are on you in an instant, tongue tracing the seam of your lips before demanding entry as he walks you back to the couch.

He quickly comes down on top of you, one hand tangling in your hair to angle your head just how he wants. His mouth leaves a blazing path down the column of your throat, nipping and sucking deep bruises into your skin. You know your panties are ruined, a few kisses from JJ and you could already feel the band tightening in your core.

"Fuck J, feels so good. I need you."

You feel him smirk against your skin, making quick work of your flimsy crop top to continue his handiwork. Each breast gets equal attention, teasing licks and kisses over your nipples before he sucks harshly, bruises forming instantly from the intense pressure. The build up has you babbling nonsense, begging him to please do something.

"Such a good girl f'me y/n," he whispers into your ear, his ringed fingers slowly climbing up the sensitive skin over the inside of your thigh. The cool metal makes you shiver, goosebumps spreading as he starts to slide down your body. Your knees part for him on instinct, hips arching up in search of the friction you desperately need.

He peels your shorts and panties off in one smooth motion, settling onto his knees between your parted legs. His broad shoulders pin you in place, not a single chance of getting away which only makes you wetter. You're unable to look away as his mouth trails up higher and higher, his warm breath tickling your aching pussy.

Without breaking eye contact he slides his signature ring off his finger, holding it with the end of his shirt before holding it in the flame from the lighter. The sight itself is enough to have you clenching around nothing, the warm colors from the flames bathing his tan skin in an orange glow.

"Eyes on me sweetheart," he commands, leaning down to lick an agonizingly slow stripe from your hole to your clit. Your body trembles at the simple touch, bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your pussy.

He wastes no time getting to work, his skilled tongue knowing just how to drive you crazy. The flattened surface of his tongue flicking over your clit has your eyes threatening to roll, legs starting to shake with how close to your release you are already.

At the exact right moment he presses the hot metal into the skin of your inner thigh. His free hand joins the mix, two fingers roughly thrusting into you. The pleasure mixed with the pain sends you right over the edge, falling apart with a scream as you watch him brand you.

The way his eyes are glued to his mark on your skin is one of the hottest things you've ever seen. His breathing is almost as ragged as yours, the tent in his shorts a tell tale sign of just how much he enjoyed marking you as his. By the feral look in his eyes you knew the night was far from over, hoping you had enough energy to show him just how devoted you are to being his.

[netherfeildren]

Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is a long haul truck driver. One day he finds a pretty girl in a diner and decides he’d like to keep her. 

Murder and sex ensue!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Graphic depictions of violence; Murder; Blood; Gore; Threat of SA; Impotence; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Loss of virginity; Virginity kink; Breeding kink; Spit kink; Rough sex; Pussy slapping; Dark!Joel; Mean!Joel (also kinda crazy and pathetic); Obsessive behavior; Possessive behavior; Discussions of suicidal ideations; Unreliable narrators; Alcoholism; Consensual non consent kind of (But not previously discussed - they're both into it tho); Use of misogynistic language; Grief

A/N: Hi :) Another one just bc I have no self control. 

Parts of the narrative read a little disjointed and/or confusing. This is intentional. I was kind of trying something weird out here, I guess.

Word Count: 9.7K

Read on AO3

The first time Joel sees you, it’s a Thursday. His least hated day of the week, but not his favorite, for he doesn’t really have any favorite things anymore. Your eyes’d stunned him at that first look. They sparkled as if dusted with frost – speared him with an intensity that burned. 

But no… that was a lie, and Joel is trying not to be such a liar anymore. He does have one favorite thing now. This middle-of-nowhere diner, this place where’d he’d found you. 

The first time he’d actually talked to you, you’d interrupted his own stubborn, sour silence with a silence of your own. Different, agonizing, compared to your usual persistent fishing for his attention. 

“What’re you doin’ out here in this wasteland, sweetheart?” Because you look sweet as that cherry pie you’re always trying to push on him. 

“Been here my whole life.” It’s verging on evening, the sky gone to melancholy, and there’s a young girl with dark hair weeping on the shoulder of an older woman in the booth over. He wants to snap at her, demand to know what the fuck she could possibly have to cry over? He’s sure she mustn’t have a dead daughter like him, and so there really seems to be no reason for tears. 

“No plans to leave?”

You shake your head, hum a little, set the coffee pot down on the edge of the table to pop a hip out and think on your answer. “Guess you could say I’m a little bit weak or scared, don’t know.”

“Doubt that,” a surprised laugh forced out of him. Entirely improbable, he knows this just by looking at you. “You’ve got eyes that seem as if they’ve never held fear within them in your entire life.” And he makes you laugh at that, head thrown back, throat rippling. The sound like the tolling of the bell indicating the start of the rest of his life. 

When you’re done gifting him your laughter, you ask, “What about you? Why are you here?”

“My daughter died.” Plain. 

Your eyes seem to shutter or flicker, something like a chimera about them, “When?”

“Two years ago.” He watches the crying girl and the old woman get up to go. And then the two of you are alone. You move to sit in the booth across from him. He’d been coming in here to see you for more than half that time since, and now, the first time the two of you are having an actual conversation, and this is what he’s decided to open with. But really, it’s the only story he has to tell anymore. He watches you watch him for a long moment, as though you’re searching for something within him, or mulling over what it is you want to say to him, the shift of your jaw from side to side as you chew on your words. He feels easily frightened now – fragile – and yet vibrantly malignant, at the same time. A juxtaposition on two opposite ends of the spectrum of good and not so good, or perhaps, verging on very, terribly bad, in the grocery store line of human morality. Two Joel’s at the start and end of the queue who could not seem to come to terms with one another. Enemies – they were enemies of each other. A Joel who’d once had a daughter, and a Joel who now did not. A Joel who’d pulled a trigger at his own temple, and one who’d never even considered such a thing. He draws his finger along the line of scar tissue at his temple.

For a long time he’d wanted to tear a hole in his world and escape, but he was no master of inventiveness. On the contrary, he found his attempt rather miserly – had short changed himself at the last moment and flinched. But perhaps, it had been for this reason – for you, to find you. He wishes he could peer inside your mind, crack open your skull and read everything you’re hiding away from him inside there. A violent thought, but you make him feel slightly violent, or – no, that’s not it – for Joel is already a violent man. It’s more that you pull a specific hue of violence out of him, incite it, like he needs to move, to howl, to claw at something, at you, scream and scream and scream to keep your undivided attention on him forever. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say finally, voice quiet. “How old was she?”

His loss. That was a funny way of putting it. It had never felt like a loss. The word was too small. Four letters was not enough to describe what it really was. There was no word for what it felt like. An emaciation of his very self until he simply ceased to exist. Something that had sucked his soul, his heart, his brain out of his body, but they didnt feel lost. They felt destroyed, decimated, or like they had never existed. Sometimes the feeling left him confused, disoriented – this strange purgatory he’d been relegated to, it was like it had never happened in his mind sometimes, or like it had happened to a different man. Like that life with that beautiful little girl with the green eyes who’d had a father who loved her, who’d then died, had happened to someone else. Someone who wasn’t Joel. Like a war that had raged and raged for centuries, and now nothing was left in its wake. Only that terribly fraught reminder of a violence too grotesque for a human mind to conceive. 

How could he miss something, wish for something so, so, so fucking desperately he’d peel his very skin from his body himself to get it back, but also feel like it didn’t belong to him anymore? Like it had never happened to him, like he remembered it out of his own body? A dream that belonged to someone else, and Joel’d only been told of it second hand. His mind was fractured now, he knew this. He wasn't right – broken or glued together the wrong way. His bones didn’t fit in his joints the way they were supposed to anymore. He was all wrong and ugly and fucked. 

“She was twelve.”

“My whole family’s dead,” you say it almost casually, with a half shrug of your shoulders. “Is that why you started driving? To get away?”

He’s been a long haul truck driver for going on two years now. Started just after Sarah – needed to get away, to get lost. He didn’t enjoy it – he does not enjoy it. Not because the work is bad or boring or what have you, but because he doesn’t enjoy anything anymore. But it’s productive and pays well and… well, he does appreciate the solitude. There is that, at least. He’d been on the route from New Mexico to Washington for several months now, and it was fine. Occasionally, he’d head up to the Dakotas – not so fine, longer, harder trek, but he managed it. He preferred this one, preferred the darkness of the north west corner of the country. He never went further south than New Mexico, though. Absolutely never into Texas. He’d never go back there again. 

“Sure… to get away.” He couldn’t be there anymore afterwards, had nothing left. “My neighbor, Anna, she’s got a teenager, Ellie. Sweet kid. Weird kid,” he laughs fondly, remembering the two of them. “The kid was friends with my daughter, Sarah. And after everything– well, after everything, Anna made sure they both stuck around. Didn’t let me shut myself away the way I wanted to,” ill-shaven recluse, confused, fractured, “They’re good people. You’d like them, I think. They’re… they’re my friends.” They were another reason he kept doing the driving, he liked to send money back to Anna and Ellie. He knew they didn’t need it, didn’t want it, but he had to. He needed to feel like he was still taking care of someone, contributing to someone’s well being. It was just part of who he was. 

“I’m sure I would.”

He watches your silent enrapture as you listen to him tell you of his pseudo life. After a while he’d realized that was all he’d started doing, making his way back to you, to this diner where you work. A sad place for ugly men to stop in on a pause from their interminable journeys and lay eyes on an angel. He hadn’t even really realized that’s what he was purposely doing or that it’d become a pattern. He just needed something to see at the end of the tunnel, a light to look towards when he was lost in the darkness. That’s what you are, a single flickering light in the abyss of darkness he exists in now. 

You’re small – tiny compared to Joel’s own hulking size. He thinks he could break you, easily, if he isn’t careful, if he so felt like it. And you were – you are so fucking pretty. He thinks of you so often. Almost as often as he thinks of his dead daughter which might seem wrong or strange, but it’s really nothing more than the two opposite ends of a spectrum of perfect beauty that he’s known within his lifetime that now he cannot reach either end of. Sarah – dead, forever out of reach. And you. Too perfect for consideration, too beautiful and good for these monstrous hands of his. The thing he’s become in his grief is not worthy of a gorgeous creature like you. His existence post Sarah’s death had become some sort of apocalyptic dysphoria where the only monster here was Joel. But he does like to watch, and he does like to think of you. To come to your diner and sit and watch you serve coffee to your customers – the scum that muddles through here isn’t worthy of laying eyes on you – men like him. Sometimes, when he sits here silently, pretending to ignore you and not be entirely beguiled by you, he feels as if he has a purpose again, like the money for Anna and Ellie, getting to inconspicuously watch over you, make sure no one gives you a hard time gives him purpose. And when he goes, even though he never really wants to, he takes you with him in his mind through the long stretches of his hauls. When there are nothing but ghosts to keep him company. When thoughts of Sarah and that dead life become too overwhelming, he calls you to mind, plans his routes to make his way back to you. 

You’re also fucking persistent – not giving him the chance to wallow away in his silence and brooding. He was rude at first, gruff and unresponsive and wouldn’t ever acknowledge your queries of, How’s it going today, and, Oh, back again I see. Sometimes he wanted to snap and just spit the truth at you, ‘course, I’m fuckin’ back, I’m here to see you, I’m obsessed with you. And rounds and rounds of, Can I get you another cup of coffee? The same as usual? You’d memorized his order. Pestered and pestered and pestered for his name until he’d finally ceded it to you, and, How ‘bout some cherry pie this time? After a while you’d gotten sick of his recalcitrant bullshit and just dropped off the piece of pie, slipping it onto the edge of the table and sliding away without a word or a half look back at him. He’d eaten the whole damn thing, savored it, and caught your sassy, little smirk after he’d finished. He’d wanted to bend you over the counter and spank your ass until you cried after that. He bets you’d taste as sweet as that pie, that if he slapped your cunt enough times he could get it red as a cherry. He bets you’d like that – that you’d like it a little rough, a little dirty, a little mean. You might look like an angel, but Joel’s seen the way you look at him, the way you follow him with your eyes, leaning against the counter, chin cupped in your small palm watching him eat his eggs and drink his coffee. 

You want him. 

But Joel is frightened – frightened and cowardly and not right, and as much as you look like an angel, he also worries you might have the ability to entice him into very, very bad things – to provoke him into depravity, even. There is a part of him, large or small given the day and the mood and the weather that he walks in here on, that has the rotten half of his mind whispering at the not-so-rotten half that he wants to defile and debase you, and that he’s pretty sure you’d like it if he did. He wants to fuck you full of his come and then watch it leak out of your used, gaping hole. Then he wants to lick you clean, kiss it all better so that he can do it all over again.

The first few times he’d stopped at your diner, he’d pretended he hadn’t even noticed you, would lie to himself in his mind and tell himself that he had no interest in a little thing like you. He had no interest in women, in making connections, in having conversations. Occasionally… well– no, not occasionally. Twice, it had happened twice now, when the urge had struck, the itch had become too persistent, and his hand not enough, he’d gotten a hooker. The first time he’d shut down completely, lost his hard on and not been able to finish. The second time… he’d finished. He might’ve even made the woman come, he hadn’t bothered to ask, but he thought he might have. Then he’d gone back to his truck and cried great heaving sobs. Like he’d said… not right, he wasn’t right anymore. Couldn’t even fuck a whore without blubbering like a baby. He’d wondered if perhaps his grief had made him impotent. That’d be funny. That type of funny thing that is also a humiliation… you know the sort?

But after a while, the lie had become too much of a farce, even for his own mind. He knew, from that first moment he’d walked in, and you’d spun around, a bright smile and chirpy, little voice telling him to sit anywhere you’d like, be right with you, mister, that he’d taken notice. More than notice. He’d put you in his pocket that day and had carried you with him in some way since. Like a stone chosen off the beach, washed up by the tide and deposited in the sand just for him to come across, or maybe like a fucking infection, like the plague, for he did not want this. He did not want to think of you. He did not want to think of anyone or anything. He wanted to be alone and without anything or anyone for the rest of his life. If he did not have anyone, if he remained alone, then he could never again experience that loss which was not truly a loss, but something much worse and devastating, and even, perhaps, a little hilarious, in that way that a hilarious thing can also sometimes be humiliating and shameful… there it is. A loss that is not a loss for it is a thing so devastating it becomes something else entirely. A humiliation to one’s very existence, a decimation, emaciation, all the things, all the things, and nothing at the same time.

His mind was wont to ramblings, on occasion now. Perhaps, incoherence, was the better word. Anxiety, as well, panic, tears. Couldn’t even fuck a hooker without weeping, howling, a few sobs. 

He had wandered so far, and sometimes he thought, I want to go home, but of course, that home no longer existed. It had been put in the ground two years ago and lost forever. The dissatisfaction of constant ennui. He could, perhaps, return to the geographical place, but nothing familiar would remain. He couldn’t live with the memory, he couldn’t live away from it. It was like it had simply ceased to exist that day that she’d died, and every moment since that moment was just a series of moments filled with a yearning for some place that no longer existed. He didn’t think he’d ever again feel at home anywhere.

And yet…

He turns back to look at you. 

“How did they die? Your family.”

“Home invasion – murdered. He never found me, hid in the boiler closet.”

“Little rabbit.”

“Hmm,” a huff of a laugh, “Maybe. Someone once said I was lucky. Pretty fucked up, no?”

“Do you feel lucky?”

“Never. Angry – that I’d been left behind.”

“Yeah…”

“Alone.”

“Are you alone?”

You turn back to him. Inspect him. He watches the slant of your eyes take in his hair, his face, wrinkled, haggard, his chest, his arms – he feels a flush flare beneath his ribs, then back up to his eyes. He wonders if you’ve ever been fucked before. You’re young – but he can’t imagine how you wouldn’t have been. He thinks he’d do anything in this moment to get between your thighs, but also, he hopes you haven’t, hopes you could be all his, only his, his his. Mine. 

He hopes he won’t cry if he gets the chance. 

“Entirely,” you say finally. 

“I had– have– ” shakes his head, “I have, I guess, a brother. Tommy. But the last time I saw him… I was horrible.” They seldom saw each other now – lie – they never saw each other now. Truth, Joel. We’re telling the truth now. 

You laugh lightly, shrug, “Happens.”

“Sure…”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Ah, just couldn’t get a handle on myself after everything. Things got bad enough eventually, and we fought… a lot. Violently. I was violent. One morning I got out of hand, terrible – one of my biggest regrets. We hurt each other with our words and our fists, and in that way only two people who know each other too well can. He cracked my ribs, gave me half his orange in the evening, afterwards – said our apologies. He was gone the next day. Haven’t heard from him since. I just got to be too much for him,” he says again, needs to reiterate it, make sure you understand that he is too much and too dark, too unmanageable – ugly. That you should not be sat here with him. That he has a violence within him, and that you should probably run as fast and as far as you can, but that he cannot promise he will not follow. “I had…” he is ashamed of this part, surprising for he sometimes wonders if he still possesses the heart to feel shame, “I had a problem with drink for a while – not anymore, though,” he says quickly. “I promise, not anymore.” He should not be promising you anything. “I got control of it – knew it was making it all worse rather than better. Felt like I was trapped underwater with my damn ghosts – that … What's that thing called when – when sick people get like – like trapped inside themselves or somethin’? You ever heard’a that?”

-

“Locked-in syndrome.”

“Yeah– yeah. I read about that once or heard it somewhere – that’s what it felt like when I was drinkin’ – fuckin’ terrible. Let it go after a while… but by that time… Tommy was gone, done with me. I was – dunno… like some sort of demon or somethin’ – somethin’ bad.” He huffs a small, derisive laugh, looks at you with that ridiculously charming, crooked half smile. 

That laugh sparks a kindling of anger inside of you for him. This is a broken, angry, creature of a man, you think. Something fractured – not whole, and he must be handled with care and gentleness. “How could he just leave you?

“Didn't give him a choice. Sometimes people deserve to be left.”

“I wouldn’t have.” That sobers him, wipes the smile right off his handsome face. You think of the invisible giants hurting this man in some unimaginable fashion; of the endless tenderness coiled up inside of him and how the crushing of that tenderness – the death of it – has given way to what may be considered madness. Because after all these months of watching him, of him watching you, you can see it, recognize that tenderness for what it is, but also the madness, for it is impossible to ignore if you’re really looking. Soft marrow at the center of a hard man. 

“I did other things… worse things.”

“Try me.”

“I tried to kill myself.”

You whistle, long and low. You actually had not been expecting that one, at least, not the admittance of it, “You’re just full of truths,” for looking at him – the sort of man he’s built as, the thought that he could be felled by anything, even his own hand, is a little hard to believe. 

“Feels like a sort of confessional in this–”

“Shithole–”

“Diner–”

Your voices overlap. You both laugh. You think you quite like the sound of your voices intermingling one on top of the other. 

“What happened?”

“Flinched–”

“I flinch all the time.”

“Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

You hum, tilt your head side to side on your neck as if you’re letting the thought slide from ear to ear within your skull. “Perhaps only the peripheral idea of it, but never with much imagination or dedication. I don’t think I have that much to kill myself over, you know?”

“Your family?”

“Not really – it’s sort of become just this… this thing that happened once. I don’t feel much ownership over it anymore. Don’t know why, exactly.”

“Sure, that’s how I feel about it sometimes too. That belongs to a different man now – like– like some actor or a facsimile, and I just look in on it as if from a distance. Enjoy the sight of someone else's suffering…” He shakes his head, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, no, I understand. Something to do in the way that a tragedy can be compelling to watch. You can let go, let go of your awareness of yourself and experience it in a way you’d never do so in the present moment.”

“A dissociation.”

“Yes. Why would you want to go and relive the basest parts of yourself all alone, over and over again? Not likely.”

“But it was me.”

“A dissociation,” you repeat, smile. 

“Yeah,” he pauses, turns the coffee cup round and round with the slow spin of his wrist as if to dissolve the remains of the grounds you know the shitty machine has left deposited at the bottom. There is a small dusting of golden brown hair covering his wrist and disappearing up his forearm beneath his flannel. You want to taste it, follow the trail to places unknown. “Not so well adjusted, us two,” And he laughs then. A real laugh. He lets you have a real laugh of his, and it is powerful – special. 

“Well… no.” Of course not. “I don’t think either of us could ever claim that.”

“Bet you’ve never been bad a single day in your life, have you?”

You cock your head, let your eyes slide from him to peer out the dark window. His lonely semi is parked under the single flare of light out there. The evening has sunk into a deep blue, the hue of mourning, of melancholy, and the pavement is wet with evening rainfall.

You'd heard that some trucks had spaces behind the seats where truckers could put a bed, have a place to rest. You wonder if he’ll take you back there and fuck you in his little bunk. And honesty is a fickle thing when discussing a topic like this, isn't it? There’s a depravity about him, and you can’t tell if the truth or the lie would placate him – incite him – more. To be similar in such a way as that which he’s imagining. A little bit of both, then. After all, intent holds weight – imagination, desire, it has a mass to it that can, if enough pressure is exerted upon it, be transformed into something else. 

“Not yet,” you tell him, sliding your gaze back to meet his, “Haven’t had a chance – but there’s still time.”

-

“What would you like to do?” He wants to take a bite out of that soft flesh you’re encased in, draw blood.

“Something depraved?” You’re taunting him – trying to provoke. It makes him slightly angry, but also hard. You should know what it is you’re toying with here. 

He frowns at you, at the lilting song of your words trying to beguile him into doing whatever it is you think you want him to do to you. “What is it that you think you want here? You don’t know what I was, how I lived. Shouldn’t be sat here with me, little girl,” he scoffs. “I was– was not– I don’t fucking know, not a man. I’m not, I’m not. Not a person anymore, just this thing that continues to exist. I should not have been expected to survive. This should mean something to you too. You also have no one. You’re alone too. You’re alone in the world. You know what it feels like to only live in the winter.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, and then you say: “I think I’ve come to quite like the winter.” And at that he knows he’s taking you for himself, whether you agree in the end or not. You’re going to be his. 

But he knows he must also let this roiling anger, this depraved hunger settle before he lays hands on you. Like this, in this state, he’d be too rough, break you, nothing compunctious about him or his jaggedness. He excuses himself for a smoke, your only response simply more of that inciting silence – more thoughts of cracked skulls and a cherry red cunt and tears after failed trysts with someone who doesn’t even know his name. He’s fucking embarrassing. What would Tommy say if he knew Joel couldn’t even get it up for a paid fuck anymore? He’d laugh in his face, never let him live it down. He misses his brother very much. He misses lots of things. 

He’s sucking on his Red under the awning of the diner’s entrance, imagining what it’ll be like to suck on your little clit, when he hears them. 

“She’s usually out about midnight. We’ll snag her then.” Grating, guttural voice.

“But I get to fuck ‘er first. This was my idea so I go first.”

“Yeah, whatever. S’only happenin’ ‘cause of me. Too fuckin’ stupid to see the plan through after all these months of watchin’ ‘er.”

“Fuck off.” Silence, and then almost with giddy elation: “We gonna kill her too?” Something cold and terrifying settles within Joel. 

A beat, “Should we?���

“Dunno, man. Might be fun, huh? Never done it before.”

“She’s fuckin’ pretty,” the voice draws the vowel out in a high pitched, sacharine whine. “Got the face of an angel.” Joel’s angel, his, his, only his.

He’s got his Bowie in a sheath on the back of his belt. Perhaps, this would be a useful exercise in release. After he’s dispelled his excess energy he can come back and touch you, take you. 

“Can’t wait to taste that cunt.” His cunt.

“Seen her tits, man? Fucking round and bouncy. Wanna make ‘em bleed.” And there’s only one avenue of consequence after that. After all, this is not the first time Joel’s done this. 

His most well kept secret.

Sometimes, when the itch cannot be eased, abated, by his hand or a fuck or a drink or any of the other readily available vices, he turns to this. Only when the straits were dire. Only when he saw no other recourse. Only after his daughter was dead and in the ground and his brother gone away from him

. 

But sometimes… sometimes it’s just fun. Sometimes it’s useful for a man to do that thing that he really feels he wants to do, if only to enjoy himself, if only to let go of some of that suffocating tension. If only to keep vermin like this away from an angel like you. 

“We’ll chill in the woods for a while, wait the little thing out, yeah?” Joel edges his way towards the edge of the building closer to them, peeks a lone eye around the corner. Two men, middle aged. Not a problem. Not for a man like him. 

He waits for them to make their way to the edge of the tree-line, watches them disappear into the gloom. He looks back into the diner through the murky windows. The warm glow of the overhead lamps washing you in a hue of golden light that brings out all the warm goodness in you he’ll take for himself once he’s snuffed out this issue. 

No one’s going to touch you but him. No one’s going to hurt you but him. 

As he rounds the corner of the diner there’s a piece of metal pipe propped up against the building by the dumpsters. Very nice. 

He goes after them. 

At the edge of the tree-line, under a swaying, low hanging branch, there is a tiny unfledged bird, helplessly twitching its way towards death in a puddle. He pauses to watch its struggle, gathers his skin about him, tightens his seams – prepares to gorge. He watches the inch by inch pilgrimage towards its last breath, then stillness. He feels so much older than his years, like he’s lived a thousand terrible years, watched a thousand terrible deaths. But there is a buoyancy about him, as well. Filled with a saccharine sweet fizz of sticky anticipation. He’s going to taste your cunt after this is done.

 He moves into the gloom. He’s going to kill them for you, and his cock is hard at the thought.

Stepping beneath the canopy of the trees, into that cold, damp darkness, he sees the absolute truth of the world. On the heels of two men who’d do you harm, he knows that he’d failed to save someone he cared about once, he’d not be bested by failure a second time. Darkness implacable, the crushing black vacuum of their overheard words buzzing in his head like flies, of the harm they’d do you. Two hunted animals moving away from a creature much darker than they could even imagine, scurrying on borrowed time. What most moves him is that the things they’d do to you are not so dissimilar to the things he plans to do to you, as well. The only difference being that after he’s done defiling you, he’ll keep you for himself, with all the care and gentleness a little thing like you so deserves. 

-

You press your ear to the cracked open door leading to the back of the building. It’s not the first time those two’ve talked their filth regarding you. The murdering is new, though. You’d not thought they were smart or inventive enough to come up with an actual kill plot. Rape enough of a hardball for minds as shallow and small as those two’ve got. 

You’d never really considered them much of a threat. Or maybe you’d just never really cared enough to pay them much attention. But as you watch the broad, rippling expanse of Joel’s muscled back stalk after them, his pause at the tree-line to look down at something on the ground, you think he must be more in the vein of taking a stupid man’s shit talk to heart than you’ve ever been. 

He has a thick, forearms-length of steel pipe gripped in his huge fist, and there’s a wicked looking knife strapped to his belt on the back of his hip. 

Interesting. 

You look back at the empty diner, the lonely parking lot beyond the glass of the windows, only Joel’s semi still taking up residence on the wet pavement. You turn back to follow after the three men. 

One you want, two you’re interested to see what fate awaits them.

For some reason, when you step outside, you’re expecting there to be snow on the ground, but there is none.  

You move across the pavement towards the forest-line, and the pilgrimage towards the verdant darkness feels very much like your one-way ticket out of this forlornness you’ve been trapped in your whole life. You’ve been stuck in this small town for so long, for too long. One man had already tried to forcibly evict you, had taken your entire family with him, maybe this one, maybe Joel, would do so in a way you’d more likely enjoy. 

There’s been a steady, faint drizzle all day long, and the puddles of rain look like holes in the dark pavement, apertures into some other realm that glide past underground. You wonder if you stepped through if you’d disappear below into some other place. You wonder if he’d be able to find you even in that unknown other. 

You cross the line into darkness. 

The familiar terror of silence – you don’t seem to find it here. There is only the sound of your rushing blood, the cadence of his voice rumbling through your psyche, firing your neurons up into a frenzy. There is a twisting heat low in your pelvis, dampness between your thighs. What’s he going to do? Why’s he going to do it?Is it for me? Is it for me? It’s for you.

You let out a low whistle between your teeth and move beyond the trees. There is a giddiness about the darkness of the wood – the motley of shadows, the aroma of mushroom rot. 

The familiar terror of silence. Perhaps, that is what they are experiencing now. The great horror of being set upon by a beast more terrifying than anything they could have ever conjured up on their own. 

That infinite tenderness from before, that acute madness – it coalesces in the gap in the trees as you come upon the three men. 

Joel has already started on the first. He murders almost tenderly. With great care, but infused with an aroma of agitated frenzy that seems flavored in the same notes of erotic buzzing that hums beneath your own skin. There is blood and viscera splattered on his face and clothes, in his hair. That great hunting knife embedded in the throat of the first man. The body lays facing you now, eyes open, shocked at his own death. Funny. Perhaps, that’s how they would have liked you to have ended up once they were through with you. 

Oh, how the tune changes when the monster is on your side. 

What are you? Be a creature. Be a creature. Be a creature!

You take Joel in. Thick, massive frame. You love his hair, it was one of the first things you’d noticed, thick dark curls streaked with the silver veins of his age and experience. Something that promised of care and knowledge and patience. His patchy beard with the heart shaped gap in it, you’re going to write your name into that space. His powerful arms, muscles coiled tight, his shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders as he brings the steel pipe up above his head, pauses to look down at his next victim. 

“We won’t bother her anymore, never again – p– please, please, I swear,” the man on the ground begs and cries. There are tears and snot bubbling down his ruddy, pocketed face. 

Joel is silent and terrifying and glorious above him, and then a small nod: “That’s alright… I believe you.” The metal comes down in a whistling arc, makes contact. 

Flesh and blood splatter, the sound of it is pulpy and wet and vindicating. He starts with the man’s knees, then his head, caved in like the shell of an egg, the yolk spilling out like vermilion drool. 

He heaves silently above the man that would have done you harm. Makes the threat go away. 

You step forward, cunt pulsing and wet and eager for him. When he’s gotten his fill of bludgeoning he turns slowly back towards you, as if he’d known the entire time that you’d been stood there watching. 

And the look on his face, it makes something electrifying and sticky buzz up your spine and ooze down your veins. You shift back on your heels

He shakes his head, his eyes are huge, pupils blown wide. “Don’t run,” he says slowly. If you hadn’t just watched him murder two men in cold blood – no, in your defense, he saved you, he protected you, fizzy heart full of satisfaction – you’d say he almost looks a little doe eyed. 

A hollow pounding begins in his heart, as if it had remained silent for the past two years and was only now taking notice of its own silence. His cock, hard enough to burst, angry and throbbing beneath the confines of his blood soaked jeans. Fuck this scum laying on the ground beside him, look at what he has infront of him. Nothing else matters but you. A goddamned angel. Damned for he’s found you now and nothing good can come of this. He takes a step towards you, and you match him with one backwards, away from him, his blood starts to howl in his veins. Different to the humming frenzy that had filled him as he did his murdering. This is hot and viscous and ravenous, and he knows he’ll get to keep his catch once he’s gorged himself on it. He knows he’ll get to keep you once he’s caught you. 

You take two more nervous little, quick steps away from him. Your eyes are slightly manic, face flushed, frame jittery, excited. A rabbit that knows it’s about to be caught. He watches the pause of your limbs as they fill with coiled energy, getting ready to make the bound and leap towards escape. He lunges, goes in for the kill, teeth bared, talons  brandished. 

Faster than you can even comprehend, he lunges, takes you to the ground with one massive, powerful shoulder to the vulnerable, soft of your belly, one huge paw cradled at the back of your skull to protect you from the hard ground. Your spine hits the cold, wet earth, the breath knocked out of you. You think you let out an animal noise, high pitched and supplicant. A thing that knows it’s been caught and is soon to be devoured. Your limbs scramble against the dirt, heels digging into the ground for purchase, you feel the loss of one of your shoes, as you try to get away or to crawl closer, who can be sure. A spider caught in the web or a larger, hungrier arachnid. He sets the huge heaviness of his muscular weight over your much smaller frame, one strong hand caged around the column of your throat, the other pushing your chest into the earth as he shoves his hips into the cradle of your own, forcing your thighs apart and your skirt to pool at your waist. You feel the stretch of the center plaque of your tights as his wide breadth settles between your legs, making room to take you for himself. You bring your own hands up to the wrist holding your throat and dig your nails into the skin there. You can feel the light smattering of hair covering his forearm beneath your soft palms, the cold, wet dirt beneath you, the searing stretch of the inner muscles of your thighs spread wide for him, the damp of the air surrounding the two of you. He leans forwards, pressing you down into the ground, and you have the fleeting thought that you want to transfuse yourself into the earth, into him. 

He pauses then to look down at you, appreciating the gloriousness of his catch. “Caught ya.” And he’s filled with an exuberance, a sort of victory. Look at what he’s snared – all for himself. 

You try and struggle again, if only to see the flare of annoyance in his eyes. It makes your cunt tight and achy. Even more than it already is. There’s a part of you that thinks you want him slightly angry – rough or mean. That you might like it even more if it hurts. Be kind enough to be cruel about it, you want to beg him. He leans forward to press his nose to your cheek, drags the cold vermillioned flush of it along your jaw, down the line of your throat, bites harsh and painful at your collarbone then over the peak of your breast. 

“Are you a virgin?” He whispers into your skin. It sounds very much like a threat. 

“Yes.”

“Saved this cunt all for me.” And it is not a question. Yes, you moan anyways. Let him know. Let him know that this defiling is a gift you’re granting him. He sits up on his haunches between your thighs, his hands sliding down to press on your lower belly and digs his fingers into the center of your tights and pulls, ripping a hold in them for his pillaging. You try and press your knees shut at the feel of the frigid air on your sensitive inner thighs, dig your nails into the ground above your head to try and drag yourself away from him. 

He digs his own fingers harshly into your flesh, his nails biting painfully into the soft skin of your thighs and ass and brings you back towards him. There’ll be streaks of pain left in his wake after this. Bad little rabbit. He smacks the inside of your thigh, watches the smooth flesh ripple for him. You let out a warbled, angry screech, little nails still trying to claw yourself away from him. He laughs then, a little mean, condescending. “Fight harder, little baby. This is pretty pathetic.” He rips your thighs apart, keep your fuckin’ legs open for me, his hands slick with the blood of his victims slide up the back of your thighs, anchoring his palms beneath the damp creases of your knees to press you open and wide for him, slaps your cunt, hard, over the soaking gusset of your panties. 

“Who the fuck’re you wearin’ this tiny little thong for?” he growls. It’s white lace, with a sweet, little pink bow adorning the front. “Me? Wrapped yourself up all nice and pretty for me?” Your little foot sneaks up under his armpit and tries to push with, what he’s sure is all your valiant might, at his chest, trying to unseat him from his conquering position above you, but he takes your ankle in a vice like grip, bites harshly into the meat of your calf so that an animal squeal of pain is clawed out of your throat at the same time that he slots his fingers under the damp center of your panties. “Sing as loud as you want, sweetheart. No one’s gonna hear you out here.” He can feel the soaking wet seam of your cunt against the backs of his knuckles, and he rips them clean off you. The sound of the last remaining barrier of protection of your cunt against his ravaging being decimated has you going shock still – prey that knows it’s caught and has decided to give up. Good, this is how he wants you. Your big, wet eyes look up at him as he flings the lace towards the still steaming dead bodies. That’s all they’ll get of you. The rest is only his. Mine, mine, fucking mine. 

You let your arms go limp above your head, soft and pliant and ready for ravaging, melting into the earth.

He presses your knees back and up, letting the red blossom of your wet cunt bloom for him. It’s slick and swollen, and he knows when he shoves his cock inside it’ll be burning hot. “Look at this gorgeous virgin pussy, baby. All for me. Only for me…” he murmurs, hypnotized, mesmerized. He drags the back of his knuckles over your slit, uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart, admires the swollen nub of your clit. You’re just as hungry for him as he is for you. Messy, eager little whore. He moves to undo his belt and free his aching length. Huge and brutish, thick veins pulsing just beneath the thin skin. He’s going to split you in half, break you, mold you in his image. 

He spits right onto your soaked folds, watches the thick glob of saliva slide down to mingle with your own leaking slick. He’s not even going to make you come first. Little virgin cunt and he’s not going to even bother getting you ready – just gonna shove the whole, unforgiving length of himself inside of you. Force you to take it. He fists his thick fist around himself, jacks his cock once, twice, squeezing at the bulbous head so that a trickle of precum seeps out of the slit. He presses his head to your clit, slides down to give you a small threat of pressure at your opening. When he looks back up at your face your eyes flutter shut, a look of pure contented submission washing over the gorgeous planes of you. 

“Not gonna be gentle, baby. Don’t got it in me.” He notches the fat head at the slick mouth of your entrance and crams his cock inside of you in one go, meets that thin barrier that says you still belong to yourself and rips through it. Mine now. No reprieve, no respite. And God, the feel of it, cleaved in half, scorching hot, filled to the brim and never deep enough. He is a rabid, snarling beast of a man as he hits the very end of you, grinds his cockhead at the mouth of your womb. You let out a warbled, pained moan, little fingers coming up to claw at his throat and chest with kitten-strength, down to dig into his thick thighs as he pins you down, and you tilt your hips to let him in deeper or escape him, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. He pulls his hips back and forces himself back in, too thick cock wedged into the too tight space. “Christ, goddamn tight fuckin’ pussy – made for me,” he grits through bared teeth.

He fucks you raw and cruel, and he needs you to just lay limp and still and take it.

And you do. And he does not cry this time. 

He sets a brutal pace, throbs deep in your belly at every pause as he grinds at your cervix. It must be painful for you, perhaps, but the flush in your cheeks, the fever in your eyes, the ripple of your cunt around his driving length tells him you also like it. “What a good girl, taking my big cock,” he coos. You preen, tilt your hips this time in supplication he’s sure, hitch your feet higher along his sides. There are tears running back down your temples and into your hairline. His cock makes you cry. If he could, he’d split your throat and drink, he would. But he cannot, so he’ll split your cunt instead. He thrusts into the hilt, complete negligence for care, for gentleness lost in the dark wood, for the desperate necessity of feeling your virgins blood coating his cock. Your protestations lost to the louder song for more, for harder, for deeper

Joel, Joel, Joel. 

He’s going to listen to you sing his name for the rest of his life. 

He feels unhinged, a thread picked at too many times, spun loose, unraveled and frayed. That edge that separates good and evil – his bloody fingers clamp down hard on the edge of your jaw, forces you to open for him, and he spits into your mouth – direct, dirty … warm. “Lemme see…” he rumbles, and you stick your tongue out for his inspection. Once he nods, pleased and smug and conquering, you close and rub the slick of his saliva onto the roof of your mouth with your tongue, savor the taste of him. This was the taste that you’d longed for… that which teaches you what that professed edge really is. Is he good, is he evil – he’d just killed two men, you’d watched him, cunt wet at the sight of it. Albeit to protect you… sure – but does it even matter? You swallow his spit down. Probably not. 

He is huge and life altering inside of you. Your virginity scoured away on his invading length. 

He leans forward, hand clamped around your jaw to pierce you with his manic gaze, like his cock pierces your cunt. He smells like the forest and sweat and power. “Little fuckin’ tease,” he grits, “Bringing me cherry pie like that all the time – fuckin’ provoking me. You just wanted me to pop your cherry for you. Didn’t you, little girl?” All you can do is nod dumbly and take what he gives you. He hooks one of your knees over his elbow, the other propped over his shoulder, foot bobbing limply at each slam of his hips. He has you bent entirely in half, cunt splayed wide open for him to fuck down into the deep, devastating end of you. Your vision goes blurry, black stars streaking across the back of your eyelids. All you see is him. Perhaps he’s all that exists now. Maybe you’re just as dead as the two bodies laying beside the two of you. You wonder peripherally what the sight of the four of you must look like. Joel’s hulking form fucking you like an animal into the dirt. You open your eyes to look up at him, there’s blood splatter across his face, in his hair. His skin is burning hot against yours. You think that perhaps you’ll have scorch marks in the shape of his fingers in your skin after he’s done with you. Two dead, brutalized bodies cooling beside the place where the two of you are fucking. 

“Can feel ya tightening up, baby. Gonna come all over my cock.”

He does something to change the angle, and it fucking hurts. “Too much,” you beg, try to push him back weakly, but your cunt pulls sharp and tight, and then your muscles are rippling around him, womb contracting painfully as your orgasms blinds you with its sudden intensity. 

“Don’t care,” he growls back. “Do not fucking push me away.” No, he must not care. Prey doesn’t decide how it’s felled, after all. 

He pulls out and back then, suddenly, slaps your cunt harshly, once, twice. You mewl, high and shocked, writhing around in the dirt. He grabs you by the hips and flips you so fast you’re left disoriented, pulling your ass up, up, up. 

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he croons, bends to bite down on the meat of your asscheek, and then notches back at your gaping, fluttering hole, orgasm still running through you, and pushes back in. You’re soaking wet, slick and fucked open by him and the taking is much easier this time. You feel his thumb press down on your asshole, “Gonna take this too. Gonna have every part of you, every piece. Gonna swallow you whole.” All you do is arch your back further, cheek smushed into the dirt, fingers digging into the cool earth for purchase, for salvation.

The sight of you stretched around his thick base, so slick he feels you dripping down his balls and further below, into the bloody earth. There’s a red tinge of your own blood coating his skin, and he’s going to come. He’s going to fill you up with his spend and fuck it deep into you until it takes. Until no matter how far you want to run, he’ll be with you, always. He lets his head fall back on his neck and stares up at the dark canopy of the trees, groans low and deep.“You’re gonna be my little hole now,” he promises, presses one large palm into the small of your back to deepen the angle and fuck down into you. “Gonna take you with me and fill you up whenever I feel like it. My gorgeous little cumslut.” The ramming of his hips starts to grow sloppy and stuttered, close to the edge now. Victory is so, so near. 

You start to claw at the dirt and wiggle again. Little knees chafed raw and scrambling against the hard ground trying to get away. He slaps your ass hard, hopes there’ll be the print of his hand to appreciate later. 

“Not inside, not inside – not – no birth control,” you stutter, beg.

“I’m not fuckin’ pulling out.” He twists a cruel and unyielding hand into the back of your hair and presses your face harshly into the ground. Your eyes pinch and tears seep and mingle into the blood and dirt beneath you. “Gonna pump you raw and full. You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ anymore, baby. Gonna take care of you,” he grits and you press yourself harder back into him. There is an existential seesaw inside of you – a volleying of your wants – you want him to hurt you, to force you, to take care of you and keep you, all at the same time.

“Promise – promise me you won’t leave me,” you cry and beg because really, that’s all you want. All you’ve ever wanted. For someone to stay, for someone to never leave, no matter what.

“I promise – fuckin’ swear.” And you go loose and passive again at that – his to do with as he will. Nothing else really matters after all that.

He senses the change. The loosening of your muscles into capitulation. He stops his thrusting and grinds, strums at your clit. “Oh fuck, you want me to fill you up? And what happens if I do? What happens if it takes? Want me to get you fuckin’ pregnant?” Starts to fuck into you again, “I think you do.”

Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care.

“You’re mine. Fucking mine.” He says it again and again and again, yes, yes, yes, lets himself fall forward, anchored above you with one strong arm as he presses as deep as he can physically go and starts to fill your pulsing cunt with his come, the heat of his spend inciting you to roll into one more throbbing orgasm. He brings his face down close to yours, open your eyes, little thing, lemme see you. The fluttering of your lashes, sweaty, dirt-streaked face, and you are seraphic, the wet crimson heat of your blood pounding beneath the delicate membrane of your skin. Gorgeous, perfect, conquered and his. 

“Fucked full’a me now,” he whispers, presses a soft kiss to the tender skin of your eyelid. You nuzzle into him, and then look up at him with the warmest, most vibrant gaze he’s ever seen. Fucking pleased and sated. 

“They wanted me, but only you get to have me now,” you whisper. “How does that make you feel?” Provoking, provoking again. 

“Like I fucking own you.” He grinds his still spitting cock further, feels the pull of your muscles milk him deeper. 

He lets his weight fall partially over you, too heavy for the full mass of himself. You are, after all, a delicate thing, and he must remember to handle you with care, occasionally. He feels the pulsing and quivering of your cunt around his softening cock, and the two of you settle to lay there in the dirt, bodies still dead, virginity scoured and stolen, and stare at each other. 

“Have you ever been in love?” you whisper, dragging the tip of one little finger, whisper soft, over the arch of his brow, the slope of his nose.

“I feel a little in love with ya right now,” he confesses, and you press that finger against the seam of his mouth, begging for entrance, and then inside, against the flat of his tongue to inspect the wet gleam of it. It’ll be inside of you soon enough, you should take a look at that which you’ll be writhing against in due time. 

“Good. That was my plan all along.” Smug, conniving little creature. 

-

Once it’s full dark, he packs you into his truck, buckles your seatbelt for you, tucks a blanket around your dirty knees and drives off as if he hadn’t just murdered two men and taken your virginity with their blood still hot on his skin. He goes for miles and miles, eventually finds a dark, secluded spot to park the truck for the night. He takes you into the back bunk and fucks you like you’d wanted him to, on your side, one leg slung over his shoulder, hand gripping the lush of your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock, watches your ass bounce against his thrusts. A demanded play with it, lemme see ya push it back in, as he watches himself drip out of your messy hole. Eats your cunt until you cry. Afterwards, the two of you lay, naked and damp, facing each other, tracing the lines of one another in the quiet dark. 

Sometimes he’s worried he’s blood hungry – or pain hungry. Starving for something he doesn’t have a name for. But he thinks that, perhaps, he can use your name to fill in the blank space now. He’d always felt as if his devotion was a punishment to the receiver. After all, everyone Joel has ever loved has left him. But as he looks at you, there’s something in your eyes that tells him that perhaps, you’ll remain. Perhaps, he can compel you to, force you to. Perhaps, he can anchor you to himself, and in turn, give you everything. 

“Are you a ghost?” he asks.

“No. Are you?”

“Sometimes I think I am.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re like a fuckin’ angel or somethin’. What were you doin’ out here in this wasteland?” He asks you again.

“Maybe I was waiting for you.” This answer he likes.

He’s quiet for a long time after that – taking you in, cataloging you, memorizing you. His fingers ghosting over your face, your hair, strumming the fan of your lashes. Later he asks: How do you remember the memory of someone else? How do you keep them when they’ve gone somewhere entirely unreachable?

“Because you love them,” you tell him.

“That’s enough?”

“Of course. Will you ever forget that you loved her?”

“Never.”

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[thefandomenchantress]

DRDT Character Popularity Poll Results

The results have been tallied! It's finally time to find out who the most popular DRDT Character really is! (...According to this specific format on this specific website).

For those unaware, this poll was conducted by asking people to write down their top 5 favorite DRDT characters in no particular order. Each time that character's name was written, it counted as one vote towards them. And, without further ado, these were the results!

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18th Place: Elliot Cuevas/Felicity Giles/Unnamed Classmate

Elliot, Felicity, and Unnamed Classmate managed to receive exactly 1 vote each, putting them in last place. I can't say I'm too surprised, since there are so many excellent characters in the main cast to choose from. Still, Felicity, a character mentioned only in an ask game, managing to tie a character with a whole-ass MV dedicated to them as well as a character featured in two bonus episodes, is pretty impressive! So props to her!

(Someone wrote 'Relaxation Room Fish' in one of their slots, which I considered including to be funny, but I decided not to. One day the minnows will get the bonus episode they deserve).

17th Place: Mai Akasaki

Mai managed a whole 5 votes. I was a little surprised by that, since she only really has a hypothetical personality, but hooray for Mai! She's the most popular non-main cast member. I can totally see why people would be intrigued by the mystery surrounding her.

16th Place: MonoTV

MonoTV, self-proclaimed most popular DRDT character, is the least popular main cast member. How sad. With only 6 votes, it barely outranks Mai, and ties with her if you count Unnamed Classmate and Mai to be the same person. While it's silly emoticons and lore implications won a few people's hearts, it still can't compete with the human main cast members.

15th Place: Hu Jing

...I doubt many people are surprised by this. While Hu may have been one of the characters helped most by my decision to make people write down their top five characters instead of only their favorite, she still couldn't gather enough votes to get out of last place within the (human) main cast members.

Hu gathered 26 votes. While that came pretty close to 14th place's number, she ended up here. Like I said earlier, this isn't surprising. Hu's behavior is supposed to be flawed, but unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be the kind of behavior that most people enjoy watching as much as the more cartoonish character's antics. Still, she has her fans (including me, in case you couldn't tell haha).

Well, if there's one thing we can all agree on, it's that Hu should definitely slap the shit out of David next chapter. /j

14th Place: Min Jeung

Min barely managed to beat out Hu for 14th place with 28 votes. Her low placement, sadly, also isn't a surprise.

Min died in chapter one, and her screentime being limited definitely hurts her here. Not only did she have only a few mentions in chapter 2, but she also didn't haunt the narrative quite like Xander did. Xander managed to leave quite an impact on both David and Teruko. And to put it bluntly, Xander is a conventionally attractive male character with a ton of screentime during his time alive. With the way fandom is, he was almost definitely going to have more staying power than a female culprit, especially one with as little screentime as Min.

That doesn't mean she has no fans, though! There's a ton of cool Min content on this website, and she is one of few characters I have never seen anyone say they vehemently dislike. And how could they? She's such a charming little bookworm.

13th Place: Arturo Giles

Arturo received 33 votes. His relatively low placement isn't exactly something I didn't see coming, seeing as he spent all of chapter 2 stalking J and being generally pretty creepy.

That's not to say he's devoid of charm, of course. His backstory was also expanded on, and I don't think we'll ever forget "Shut your whore mouth!!!!". Arturo's a pretty interesting character, but until we see his full potential in chapter 3, this position in the ranking is pretty understandable. At least Aceturo was confirmed canon in the last five minutes of chapter 2 (/j).

12th Place: Levi Fontana

Oh, Levi. Such an interesting little guy who may or may not have committed multiple felonies.

Levi received 41 votes, beating out Arturo by a good margin. He seems to have gained a little popularity after his backstory was expanded on at the end of chapter 2, and I'm sure we're all excited to see where his character goes in chapter 3! Well, if he survives, but I refuse to admit him not surviving is a legitimate possibility haha.

Overall a decent showing, about what I expected for him! Our next character, however...

11th Place: Xander Matthews/Nico Hakobyan

Attentive readers may have noticed that, despite there being 16 main cast members not including MonoTV, there were only 15 slots when we started ranking them.

And that's because, against all odds, Nico and Xander managed to tie each other at 44 votes each, 3 votes above Levi.

Not only am I a little disappointed I managed to get a tie in these results, but I'm also rather surprised! I was always under the impression Xander was a rather popular character, so I was fully prepared for him to break the top ten. Seeing him underperform like this wasn't what I expected. I suppose the popularity of Xanvid may have always been what carried Xander's popularity, not Xander himself. After all, one of the few things keeping Xander relevant right now in canon is David.

As for Nico, they performed closer to my expectations. I was prepared for them to be somewhere in the middle ground when it came to popularity. I suppose them being alive longer than Xander was evened out by them almost committing murder...Except Xander also did that, but that's a whole other can of worms. A shame neither they nor Xander can make it to the top ten, but maybe next time.

10th Place: J Moreno

Woohoo, J makes it to the top ten! She got a total of 47 votes, and was one of the hardest to count since she has so many name variations haha.

J managed a pretty good showing. With more backstory details and her based-ness during the trial, I'm not surprised she was able to score a top ten spot. As someone who thinks non-violent tsunderes are very fun and amusing, I totally get the appeal.

9th Place: Eden Tobisa

Eden managed to also make it into the top ten with 49 votes, beating J by only 2 votes.

I'll be honest, I'm pretty impressed with Eden. I think she probably benefitted from the top five rule, since she got a lot of points from the 2nd to 5th slots. While the first slot didn't have to be your favorite character, most people probably did put their favorite there. So even if she isn't always people's most favorite, how could they possibly dislike such a sweet character?

8th Place: Arei Nageishi

Next up, Arei Nageishi, the Ultimate Bowler with 63 votes. That's quite a gap between her and Eden. But they still ended up next to each other, which can only mean one thing: Areden is canon /j.

Arei doing well is something I expected, since she's a bit of a wild card. If you like jerk characters, she's got you covered. If you like nice characters, she tried so hard to be good at the end. If you like crying, she died before she could achieve her dreams. Truly a character that pleases everyone, haha.

7th Place: David Chiem

...Holy shit. Seriously? Only 7th place? He barely made it into the top half of the main cast? Damn.

David got 64 votes, only beating Arei by one measly vote. Gotta say, David barely getting to the top half of the main cast in this list surprises me. I mean, he's so popular, right?!? Everyone was so obsessed with him right after chapter 2 ended! Who knows, maybe the hype died down a bit after people got used to his new act--I mean totally 100% real personality reveal.

6th Place: Rose Lacroix

After David shit-talked Rose, I'm sure we're all very amused to see her beating him, haha.

Rose gathered 66 votes, scoring 6th place by only 2 votes. Rather impressive, I didn't expect to see her up so high, but I'm pleased! After her little angsty speech during the second trial, I have to say I'm more endeared to her as well, so it's nice to see her defy my expectations. But then again, she's yet another character I've never seen a single person say they particularly dislike, so maybe I should've expected this.

5th Place: Whit Young

Whit makes it to the top five! Yay! He got here with 69 votes, a number I'm sure he'd have at least one joke about.

This is pretty expected, since I think most people are aware Whit is decently popular. A seemingly happy jokester who's secretly depressed is an archetype that usually endears a lot of people, in my experience.

Though I would like to give a shout-out to the person who wrote: "1. Whit, 2. Whit (mastermind version), 3. Whit (traitor version), 4. Whit (psychotic kanade version), 5. Whit (pinkie pie version)". I considered counting it as only 1 vote, since voting for the same character five times is against the rules, but I decided it was too funny to not count and counted it as 5 instead. So If you want to get technical, Whit is technically only 6th, without me breaking the rules. Sorry Rose.

4th Place: Charles Cuevas

See, my intervention allowed Whit to be next to Charles, it was meant to be. /j

Charles got 71 votes. I expected him to do well, but almost on the podium of top three? Wow! Congratulations, Charles. Like I said with Arei, people who like jerk characters and those who like nice characters are both appeased by characters like this, so it makes sense that he's rather popular. Especially since he has a bunch of cute sprites.

3rd Place: Veronika Grebenshchikova

Our top three begins with...Veronika, who got 72 votes! She barely managed to get past Charles by a singular vote!

I'm impressed with Veronika! I knew she was popular, but not top three popular! I suppose she is basically every Danganronpa fan to the extreme, so it makes sense most people like her at least a little bit. Not only does she have a super awesome design, but an interesting dynamic with many cast members as well.

2nd Place: Ace Markey

HOLY SHIT???? SECOND?!?!

Ace received a total of 77 votes, beating Veronika by a solid number, though not a crazy amount. And I'm...Super impressed with this! I knew more people started to like Ace after he died, but second? Wow! I guess I can never claim he's not one of the top three most popular characters ever again, haha.

Though...Since I hosted this poll, and I'm an Ace Markey-centric account, I should recognize Ace probably had a liiiiittle bit of an unfair advantage, since many of the people guaranteed to see the post the poll was in had to like him at least a little. Whoops! If a completely neutral party hosted this poll, maybe he would've ended up losing to Veronika or Charles, but I suppose we'll never know.

Anyways, Ace probably benefitted the least from this format, since he took an early lead in the first slot only to get closer to the others as time went on. A stark contrast from our champion, the most well-liked DRDT character...

1st Place: Teruko Tawaki

Congratulations, Teruko! She won by a HUGE landslide, getting a whopping 104 votes and blowing everyone else out of the water!

Teruko started out well, but not super well during the first slot, only to consistently get high numbers all the way through the 2nd to 5th slots. She was probably the character who benefitted the most from my top five system. While she may not be everyone's favorite, a lot of people still really like her! Making her the most well-liked, popular DRDT Character!

Since you see so many people saying that Teruko is hated on too much, it's nice to see her being able to pull out a victory on this one! There were 185 voters, which means more than half of the people who participated wrote down Teruko as one of their top five favorites. Her luck truly pulled through on this one!

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And that's the end! Sorry this took so long, schoolwork has been mean to me lately. That's the reason I haven't posted in general that much either. But the results are finally complete! I hope you enjoyed this little experiment, and one of your top five did well!

[ravenna-reid]

CRIMSON RED

Jason Todd x Pain Inflictor Reader

TW: nothing crazy, just swearing and mentions of violence

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All they called you was Crimson.

Maybe because of your signature lipstick and that lace that was always in your hair.

Or maybe because of the blood you drew out of your targets without so much as raising a finger.

A telekinetic pain inflictor. The worst kind of metahuman.

But Red Hood had no reason to worry about you just yet. You tended to keep a low profile and there were bigger fish to fry. And if he was being honest, the sound of you and your abilities were kind of terrifying.

Jason's little mission all went wrong though, given his intel was missing key information. Now he was bound to a chair in a warehouse with a dripping roof. And that dripping eerily echoed as he sat and waited. Desperately keeping his fears and demons at bay.

Being tied to a chair. The looming threat of torture. It all hit a little too close to home.

Two-Face eventually sauntered into view, the rest of the warehouse behind and beside him concealed in shadows. Jason had to grimace every time he saw his face.

"You ugly bastard." Jason retorted, masking his fear with snarky insults and sarcasm. "Gotten work done recently?" He nodded towards Harvey's face with his head.

"Son of a bitch." Two-Face's face contorted with rage. "I would watch my mouth if I were you. You're finally gonna die tonight, and this time you won't be coming back."

Jason swallowed hard, pissed off that he didn't have his helmet to hide the fear-inducing anticipation on his pale face.

"But we'll let the coin decide how this is gonna play out."

So Harvey went on with his odd ritual and flipped his coin. It landed on the tarnish side, and Jason had no idea what that meant. Suddenly, Two-Face was calling out to someone behind him. Someone hidden deep within the darkness of the abandoned warehouse. Jason waited and waited, sweat dripping down the side of his face.

He expected a gruesome looking thug or some other high profile villain. Maybe Penguin, or even Harley.

The sound of heeled boots slowly echoed through out his bleak surroundings, accompanied by a laugh like velvet. You soon came into view.

Crimson mask concealing the top half of your face, the colour matching that string of lace that sat comfortably in your hair. Your usual deep red outfit hugged your body, similar to Catwoman's except for the fact that it wasn't a whole bodysuit. And of course, your stark, scarlet lips were contorted into a sinister smile.

He'd seen you around. But seeing you this close in person was a different story. Jason's breath hitched once you were right in front of him. Truthfully, he never intended to meet you. And now it was so much worse given you would be the one torturing him tonight.

Fuck this mission really went south.

"Here, the coin says you get to toy with him tonight." Two-Face said with a dismissive wave of his hand and scoff as he turned his back. "I have a deal I need to be making soon."

Jason watched as he left, muscles stiff with frustration and venom in his eyes. This was the deal Jason was supposed to be preventing.

As Jason's eyes lingered on Two-Face, your eyes were focused on him. His ivory skin and deep, jet black hair. The aggravated expression painted across his face. That muscular figure.

And that odd looking J scar on the side of his face.

"Red Hood..." Your voice lingered and shivers suddenly went down Jason's arms. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Can't say I feel the same way." He responded harshly, avoiding eye contact and instead trying to devise an escape plan. Which would, most likely, be futile and stupid.

"Mmm, mean. It's not like you're a saint Red." You calmly pointed out, voice smooth like wine.

And then he looked up at you. "Oh, really? You're one to talk? Ms snaps someones bones and crushes their lungs with a blink of an eye."

Finally making contact, you saw the confliction swirling in those eyes, and for some odd reason something tightened your throat.

Jason didn't miss the subtle furrow of your brows as you neared him. Slowly circling him like a predator.

"Deciding what bone you're going to break first?"

You scoffed, but it was more like a laugh. As you walked behind Jason he began to feel his skin crawl, his heart beat faster. He wished you were standing in front of him again. Staring down at him the way you were.

As you went around him, you noticed the back of his shirt was slightly tugged down, revealing slithers of iridescent scars. Many, many scars.

"What are you doing?" He snapped, but you remained silent until you faced him again. And this time all you did was stare back at him, mind deep in thought. Something stirred deep in your chest. Regret? Sympathy?

"You're just a kid." The words left your mouth in a gentle whisper as you realised he was probably no older than you.

So no, he wasn't a kid. But he wasn't old enough to have his body broken by you. Sure, you butchered people with your mind all the time. But they were criminals. Enemies. Scum. They always had it coming. But him? Red Hood?

You just couldn't do it. It was ridiculous, you knew that. But you couldn't. You wondered where Two-Face was and how he'd react to your odd decision. But hell, you didn't care about ignoring Two-Face's order. Rules and regulations never stopped you before, and what was he going to do?

Jason initially wanted to get even more mad about that statement. Insulted that you just called him a boy when he was in his 20's. But he kept to himself, continuing to watch you closely.

"So what are you gonna do now huh? Cause this game is getting a little boring Crimson."

His attitude made you smirk a little. You suddenly slipped a red-blade dagger from your belt. Jason frowned, wondering why you wouldn't just use you powers, when you cut the zip ties and rope keeping him bound.

Now he was glancing up at you, eyes wide with confusion and suspicion.

"You gonna go or did you actually want me to hurt you?" You asked, brows raised. But already knowing the answer, you were turning to leave.

"Why are you doing this?" He sounded like he was accusing you of something. You turned to look back over your shoulder.

The sympathy was back, but also a few other feelings. Butterflies in your stomach and what not. Shit he was handsome.

"I don't know," you shrugged. "You're kinda cute."

He scoffed before grabbing his helmet from the floor. "Spare me."

Suddenly a sharp pain began in his knees before they turned into brittle leaves. He dropped down onto them and stayed there as the pain began to subside. Then he shot a glare up at you. You were already standing before Jason and looking down at him, that smug smile on your pretty face.

"Mm," You hummed, eyes dancing across his features as you took him in. "Very cute."

Then you turned to leave, and Jason was left blushing and speechless.

Part 2

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[lover-girl-estxx]

Not my gif

Season 4 episode 10 spoilers (haven't finished this season)

this is Angst Angst Angst

| 3rd Person POV |

Y/n didn't even know what day it was, she been in her and jjs bed- well I guess just her bed now. Since they got back from Morocco, her mind couldn't wrap around the fact that her boyfriend since freshman year was gone. I mean he has to come back right? She thought everyone came back, Big John, ward, John b and Sarah they all came back.

She laid there for days just thinking about everything, thinking that when JJ looked to her on that island and asked "you wanna just stay here and never leave? Surf all day, catch fish, hook up whenever sounds good to me" with a big smile across his face she brushed him off but now she'd take it all back and say "yeah Jay let's stay here forever".

"she's been in there for 4 days we have to do something" John B said "what can we do?" Kie said "something" Sarah added "I'll make her food okay?" Pope said standing up. "Hey Y/n" he said softly peeking his head in the door, She wrapped up in JJs hoodie zoning out but reruns of they're favorite shows played. She slightly looked over at him "I brought you some food" he set it on her nightstand "you need anything else?" He added she shook her head, his hand went over the handle "thanks Pope" she whispered "yeah".

It turned dark out and it dead silent in the house now, she put her shoes on and grabbed her backpack. And slipped out the window of the room. She finally got to the liquor store "two 5th of you cheapest vodka please" she said and put a leader of Coke "ID" the woman asked Y/n pulled out her fake ID and handed it to her.

Now that was her thing crying and drinking the thought of him away. The times she would get up it would be to look at something else of jjs. This time she looked out her window, John B stood in front of a tree out front JJ Maybank craved into it she took her bottle and went outside. "hey y/n" she stood next to him "hey.." he looked down to see that bottle in her hand and the smell coming off her breath "how many have you gone through?" she shrugged he took the bottle from her softly "you shouldn't be doing that its a waste" "it makes me feel okay" "does it make you forget he's dead?" her eyes opened "no but I think I should punish myself a little for leaving him there alone" "JJ would understand why we left him okay? he wouldn't want you to punish yourself you gotta stop" he wrapped his arm around her "yeah I know I just- I don't know".

Y/n thought instead of dying for herself she was gonna live for JJ. The next day they took notice that Y/n was moving around cleaning her room, they went in not saying anything just helping her. they'd find things of JJs and set it aside slowly building a corner of all his stuff for her to look at through the day.

Y/n found herself every morning on the water surf for him, swimming for him and boating for him.

| 6 Years Later |

"this was your Uncle JJs board when he was you age" Y/n said pulling the board of of the surf shed her God son standing next to her "I don't know if I can use it, it's a lot bigger than mine" "you'll do great! grab the towels bubba" he hopped in the truck while Y/n loaded they're boards.

Y/n was sat straight on her board he was laying on his board "okay Jay this one coming is yours" she helped turn his board around, he went and stood up "YES JJ!" she yelled and clapped. she rode in "good job!" she smiled and gave him a high five "thanks" he smiled back.

"Uncle JJ surf like all the time?" he asked strawberries covered his face "yeah even one time him and your dad went surfing in a hurricane it was dumb but they loved it" "sounds fun" "no JJ never do that" "I think I like the beach as much as Uncle J" she smiled and felt tears raise in her eyes "I think you do to" she ruffled his hair making him giggle.

[bleue-flora]

***UPDATE***

I did some snooping of my own as well as had people find or rule some out (I’ll probably continue to update this as we go on so to check the updated list return to the original post instead of the reblogs)

Alright, by popular demand here it is. There are likely things on here that may not exist yet because the map is from before the finales or don't exist at all or aren’t on this map (these items will be marked DNE - does not exist). I don't know, but that's part of the fun I suppose. :) Feel free to leave the answers in my asks, tag me, or just use the tag: #dsmp scavenger hunt so I can find your posts. <3 Good Luck!

DSMP Scavenger Hunt

Places

1. Staged Duo Island [related post]

✔️2a. Map #1 - Found ✔️2b. Map #4 from Dream’s wall in his bedroom cell [related post] (hopefully they are oriented right, I based it on the other wall maps’ orientation) - Found

2b. is Sam's Base at -3803 70 -3926 [post] (seems the map was oriented wrong oops, my bad... apparently it was right on his wall)

2a. has been determined by @sumwan to be a map of a more completed version of Sam’s handmade retirement island [post] (which is not actually shown in its completion on the dsmp map we were given, but is another mystery solved nonetheless :D)

✖️3. Quackity's storage room (what is in the chests?) [clip] - DNE

Given the look of this room and the presumed general area based off of the stream, I searched everywhere and am going to say this no longer exists and must have be changed since April 2021, perhaps it was part of a Las Nevadas building during construction… so no new torture method lore I guess :[

4. Quackity’s birthday poster (does it really say he’s 28? Or that his birthday is on December 28?)

5. Dream’s house (does he actually have one that’s not the prison or his old secret base)

✖️6a. Revival Book Lab [clip] - DNE ✖️6b. Punz's secret underground room - DNE

6b. The finale secret room has been confirmed to not have been built yet [post]

6a. It is a general consensus at this point that because Punz's tower does not appear the same as in the video that the video was filmed on a different map so there is no lab.

✖️7. Dream’s bed for respawning in the disc confrontation (it had to be close for him to get there so fast [related post]) - DNE [post]

8. Warden’s prison stasis chamber on the outside [clip]

9. Does Quackity have an in Minecraft calendar? (that Dream mentions [clip] & is shown in vod)

10. Did they make a replica of the cell for the scrapped lore and just never filmed it?

Items

✔️11. Books Dream gave to Techno in prison (are they all empty?) - Found

No, the one labeled Dream says “dear technoblade” and the others also have things in them, not necessarily super notable but not nothing [post].

➖12. Dream’s letter to Techno - Maybe?

There is a world in which it could perhaps be the Dream book with “dear technoblade” in it [post] because that is what the scene ends on [clip].

13. Revival Book

14. Are there multiple Enderboo prison waivers for multiple visits?

➖15. The OG pink bed (shown in old enderchest [from this post] but not later) - Unfindable

So there are actually a shit ton of pink beds on the server a result of Eret’s ‘you matter <3’ pink wool no doubt. So I think this will be pretty impossible, unless we find something that seems like Dream’s house which has a pink bed.

✔️16. Does Dream have any named possessions? - Yes

A fish named J DAWG, good on Sneapeekay for giving Dream a pet, our boy has an attachment now :) [post]

17. Dreamrider [clip]

18a. Dream’s blue shield 18b. Smile shield from staged finale

Enchantments

19. Enchantments of Quackity’s netherite low durability axe

20. Enchantments of Quackity’s diamond sword

21. Enchantments of Quackity’s diamond pickaxe

✔️22. Dream’s armor enchantments after prison (how does it compare to Nightmare?) - Found

Pretty comparable as far as main enchants go, but definitely missing the extra frills [post] (thank you to @sumwan for finding Nightmare)

Questions

✔️23. Would Techno and Dream have been able to escape from under the cell? [clip] - I think EVENTUALLY Yes

I’m gonna probably do a separate post about it

✔️24. Is the End completely untouched? [related post] - Yes

@blockgamepirate has made the observation that no End file exist so presumably they never went to the end before the finale.

✔️25. Are the cow and sheep still at the disc confrontation vault? - No

Just For Fun - Where are these?

✔️26. KSI portraits from sex class (are there any still around?) - Yes

I do not have the plugin but all maps seem to still be in the school.

27. DEFINITELY NOT PENIS

✔️28. Dream’s Diary - Found

It was still in the cell.... [post]

29. “thanks for visiting” prison book

30. The :) book Sapnap gives to Ranboo from Dream in prison

31. Sam’s book that says "I am not an idiot "over and over

32. The L’manberg photo from the finale [clip]

✔️33. Are there any Tales of the SMP sets? - Yes

@feyscape has found the City of Mizu at 13979 70 12937 [post]

@feyscape’s website notes that The Town That Never Was is at 843 97 -296 [link]

✔️34. Egg - Found

Oddly, near Bad and Skeppy's mansion and the prison, not the banquet room, at 325 11 -884 [post]

35. Bones and Skeppy’s house (in Egg Finale) [clip]

✔️36. Antarctica Tommy got teleported to when he was banned on his first day [related post] - Found

@feyscape website coordinates at 2000 64 2500 [link]

37. The ocean monuments missing elder guardians (for prison build)?

38a. Fundy's house in mesa 38b. Fundy’s nightmare set in mesa biome [clip]

✔️39. Dream’s parrot’s grave [Dream's parrot] - Found

@oduvany has found it at 237 2309 [post]

Helpful Resources

@sumwan’s post [here] tells how to access inventories

And @seriousbusiness4130 left some helpful replies on my post about finding the loaded chunks of a map:

@feyscape has set up a helpful coordinates archive [here]

[norrizzandpia]

Can you write something based on the photo of oscar and lily dressed as fred and daphne from scooby doo , but reader instead of lily obvs

I would send the photo , but I think you have allow asks with media turned off

I loved this and i coupled it with this ask (here is the pic this is relating to)

I’ll Be The Fred To Your Daphne (OP81)

Summary: He’ll always be the Fred to her Daphne, the peanut butter to her pb and j, and the salt to her pepper.

Warnings: ive never wrote anything more fluffy

“What do you want to be for Lando’s Halloween party?” Y/n asked on a slow Sunday morning as the couple lay around on the couch, Peaky Blinders playing in the background.

Oscar’s face popped up, confusion etched into his features, “Are we supposed to be dressing up?”

Scoffing, Y/n laughed at her boyfriend’s obliviousness, “Yes, Osc. It’s a costume party.”

Shifting around, he propped himself up as he stared down at her, “But, I thought people didn’t really pay attention to that?”

“Oh, baby,” She giggled, “Yes, people pay attention to that, especially at a Formula 1 Driver’s party.”

“Oh,” His eyes traveled down to his lap, almost in disappointment at his mistake, “Okay, well, what do you want to be?”

Allowing her hands to graze against his cheek, Y/n lightly smiled, “That’s what I was asking you.”

Again, the revelation hit him as his brain finally caught up with the conversation, “I’m not sure. Do you have any ideas?”

Her grin was sheepish and shy as she fished for her phone, the device being lost in the heap of blankets, “How about this?”

The TikTok that played immediately after her last words showed a collage of photos flying by, all suggesting a couple being Daphne and Fred for Halloween. Purples, oranges, and whites flashed as Oscar’s face broke out into the same grin, “I love it.”

Y/n’s eyebrows shot up as her eyes twinkled, “Really?!”

His face softened, his eyes swimming with adoration, “Of course. Where do we start?”

—

With her figure-hugging purple dress and his orange tie, the two were ready for Lando’s party. Stepping out of their apartment and into Oscar’s McLaren, their smiles never faltered, only getting bigger when they turned and were reminded of their coordinating outfits.

“Hey, you made it!” Lando’s voice shouted over the loud speakers as they stepped through the threshold of his house.

Y/n smiled as Lando and Oscar went in for a hug, pulling back for Lando to greet her as well. His eyes wandered down their frames as he took in their costume, and lit up when he realized what they were.

“Fred and Daphne?! Aw, cute! Oscar’s in love!” He teased as he poked at his teammate’s sides.

Oscar tried to dodge all he could, but the giggling ensuing from both his and Lando’s mouths distracted him from getting away. After a few seconds, Oscar backed away and put his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay! Stop, mate, stop. Please.”

Lando’s hand waved around as if it would explain away his actions, before he was winking at Y/n, his face speaking volumes to his knowledge of in love Oscar was for her, and leaving.

—

Throughout the night, Oscar and Y/n were adored by the attendees of the party. Everyone’s straight faces broke out into smiles as soon as the couple came into sight.

It was safe to say, they were the popular topic of conversation for the night.

The same thing happened with the internet the next day. Photos of the costumes practically broke the internet as everyone discussed how cute the private couple had been. With his green tie and her stuffed animal, fans continuously talked about their iconic choice of costume.

As weeks went on, fans began to recover from the cute pictures. That was, however, until videos of Oscar on the Australian Track accidentally knocking the cute, little stuffed animal out of his backpack. It had been slung over one shoulder when Lando ran into him, the British boy trying desperately to avoid an older man who was asking for his signature, and the toy flopped onto the ground. The two had stood there, animal on the floor between them, staring down at it as Lando tried to process his friend carrying around a child’s toy and Oscar’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

It had been swiped from the ground by Oscar when it sunk in that his secret had been revealed. Truth be told, he had been carrying the stuffed animal around since his and Y/n’s Halloween appearance, but he had kept it locked away in his carry-on, not his backpack. The only reason why it had taken a spot in his bag for the Australian track was because he had missed Y/n more than usual and he knew any moment he could take to look at it would be needed. Thus, making him understand that putting it in his backpack would allow for quicker, easier access.

However, as Lando’s laughing echoed in his ear, he knew he had made a grave mistake.

—

Teasing and jokes ensued, obviously, after every angle possible from Scooby-Doo-gate surfaced online. Even Y/n wouldn’t let Oscar live it down, the poor girl having looked for the stuffed animal for weeks after Oscar had stolen it from her. Her friends had sent her videos and pictures the moment they woke up and saw them, the girls having grown tired of Y/n complaining about losing it.

“Looks like you never lost it after all.” Her friends had texted her, followed by an overwhelming amount of heart and sparkle emojis.

“Boy is so whipped COME ON.” They continued, determined to not let her live it down.

The best part, however, was the fact that, when he came home, her friends took it upon themselves to make fun of him.

“Where’s the stuffed animal, Oscar?” She had tried, but Oscar was quick to say, “You’re lucky I love her.”

Laughing, her best friend had looked him dead in the eyes and countered, “Yeah, we know you love her by the stuffed dog you can’t sleep without at night now.”

[jerreeeeeee]

Balance fic recs

some of my favorite balance fics. various ages, popularities, and lengths. i’ve been wanting to do a rec list for a while!

caramel by nevereverever

The first time Taako is left alone, it isn't pretty. But their lives are stuck in a loop and people come back and die again and again and he wonders if there will ever be a time when he doesn't have to fear being left alone.

2.7k, Taako & Lup Lup dies one cycle and then, years later, she dies again. But she always comes back. Hurt/comfort of the best kind.

Warmth by noxic

"It was a well-known fact among the residents of the Starblaster that Lup, Barry, and Taako slept in the same bed more often than not. It was one of those things that they just did without really talking about it."

2.1k, Barry & Lup & Taako The BLT fic of all time. Quality platonic adult sleepovers.

Taako the Matchmaker by @fantasysamsclub

In which Taako tries to set up his sister. Events take place during Stolen Century.

11.1k, Blupjeans & Taako Taako tries to set up blupjeans. Miscommunication ensues. Very sweet and funny.

red fishing line by @anistarrose

A routine performance of Sizzle it Up goes nightmarishly wrong, and at Lup’s bedside, Taako feels helpless. And when a red-robed guest appears before him, Taako doesn’t know how or what to feel at all.

3k, Barry & Lup & Taako Also the BLT fic of all time. Excellent subtle Taako characterization, and my favorite depiction of the familiarity-but-not of being voidfished. Warning for major character death.

Sunny-Side Up by @barry-j-blupjeans

And the world? The world loved Taako. For once in his gods-damned life, people loved him. They didn’t care about all the flaws, they didn’t care where he came from or who he was before. They loved his food and they loved him. No one would ever quite be at Taako’s level and that was something he thrived on. There would never be anyone who could measure up. Taako deserved this happiness. He worked for it. He wasted his fucking life away for it.

5.7k, Taako A wonderful character study, revolving around the role food plays in Taako's life. Fairly minor but impactful characters like Sazed and Taako's aunt are utilized in a very meaningful way. So well-written and warm. Warning for brief suicidal ideation.

On the Deck of the Starblaster by @papergardener

“What the… what are you all doing? We have work to do!” It’s a justified reaction, Lucretia thinks, to finding your entire crew literally lazing about on deck not an hour into this new cycle. “This one's on me,” Taako says. “It’s a new trend I like to call: taking a fucking break.” Cycle Nintey-Five. Everyone’s maybe not doing so good and could use a little warmth.

6.5k, Lucretia & Taako Near the end of the century, Lucretia is feeling rough. Taako pulls her out of her funk and initiates a much needed rest. Fantastic characterization, of Lucretia as a whole, and the loyal, warm side of Taako. Warning for mentions of a suicide attempt and suicidal ideation.

leaving, as an injustice by @anistarrose

When Mavis is eight, she starts finding her Dad asleep on the couch in the morning. Sometimes, he’s even all the way out on their tiny patio, with his head slumped onto a pillow atop the chess table, and bags beneath his eyes. In one of their following games, he tells her about tactical retreats.

4.7k, Mavis & Merle A study of Mavis and her relationship to Merle. Incredibly insightful into criminally underrated characters. Excellent Merle characterization.

Permission by vaguenotion

She’d been doing this on and off for the last hour, as if daring the men to catch up to them. Daring them to fight her. Every time seemed like a final stand. Here is where I will meet them, her shoulders said, hiked up around her ears. Here is where I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done. But then Taako would grab her hand, and she would turn and see the bruising on his throat, the blood drying on his brow, the tear in his shirt. And she would grip his hand in hers and together they would keep running.

12.6k, Taako & Lup My favorite depiction of the twins as children, both in character and realistic. Beautifully atmospheric, with so many small details that make the setting feel so real. Warning for assault and harm to children.

Come Hell or High Water by @nillial

“Taako,” Hurley asks, “where’s your magic umbrella?” Taako looks behind him. He had tossed the Umbrastaff in the path of a neighboring vehicle, which was beginning to catch up to them. He sees them now, far in the distance, and he sees his Umbrastaff, too, lying dangerously close to its wheels. As if on cue, he watches the tires crush it to pieces. “Whoops,” he says. - Lup is trapped. And then she isn’t. --- In which Taako breaks his umbrella during the Petals to the Metal race, unknowingly freeing Lup, who is almost immediately captured by Kravitz. After becoming a member of the Raven Queen's retinue with Kravitz as her trainer, she has two missions: 1) find her family, and 2) ruin Kravitz's afterlife. A story about enemies becoming friends and lost families finding their way back to one another.

197k (currently), Lup & Kravitz Incredible characterization. I love the way Lup is written. Hilarious shenanigans, sweet friendship-building, and terribly sad sometimes, because it dives deep into the reality of Lup existing in a world that's forgotten her.

Very cold water on a very hot day by @keplercryptids

Sometimes a family is a nerd who can't swim and the crunchy-haired watersport inventor who teaches him how. Surfer lingo required.

3.1k, Barry & Taako Deep dive into the beach year. Excellently in character, well-written dialogue, and a beautiful depiction of their growing friendship.

Children of Atlas by @papergardener

They’ve survived the apocalypse and now as far as they know, they’re the only ones left. Perhaps it was inevitable that they’d consider… repopulation. Lucretia writes up a weekly schedule to try and address that. Absolutely no one is happy with this.

76k (currently), IPRE crew The premise for this one is incredibly offputting, but I'm so glad I gave it a chance. The characterization and quality of writing is absolutely wonderful. I also love the attention to detail of the realistic difficulty of just surviving. Fantastically atmospheric, this fic dives deep into the uncertainty and fear of the first cycle, when the crew are all strangers, and the love that turns them into a family. Warning for extensive discussion of sexual assault.

Emissary Davenport by DragonWrites

A series of stories where Captain Davenport is secretly an emissary of Garl Glittergold, Gnomish god of pranks. And when you're a serious-minded captain on a mission to save all of reality, having a cheerful trickster god as your unexpected patron can get a little strange...

300k, Davenport A series of four works set in an AU where Davenport is an emissary to the leader of the gnomish pantheon. My absolute favorite depiction of Davenport, ever. The first three works are explorations of Davenport as a character and the relationships between people and gods in a DnD world. The last, Lost Gods, is the best fanfiction I've ever read. I can't express how good it is. The attention to detail among myriad plot threads, the building of themes, the characterization across just about every single character in Balance, all come together to create 223k words of a genuine masterpiece.

[lovelyjj]

maybe a mix of “i’m just afraid” and “tell me the truth”? 🫶

avoidance

jj maybank x reader

wc: 1.4k

a/n: I lowkey hate this.

You and JJ were the best of friends. You did everything together. He was your person you told everything to. He was your partner in crime. There were no secrets between the two of you.

You and JJ were on the couch that was on John B’s porch, enjoying the rain. The rain was blanketing the outer banks in water, soaking the grass and trees.

“I love the rain,” you stated.

“Really why?” JJ asked.

“I don’t know it makes me feel less alone, like the sky is crying with me.”

“That’s a really good reason,” JJ replied.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“You want to dance?” JJ asked with a goofy grin on his face.

“In the rain?” You questioned surprised.

“In the rain,” JJ confirmed.

“Ok.”

JJ got up and reached his hand out for you to take, which you gladly accepted. The two of you went out on the grass and JJ held onto one hand. Then he put one hand on your waist and you put the hand not holding his, on his shoulder.

You guys danced and he spun you around and you got soaking wet. You were having a lot of fun though. You were having a blast and so was JJ.

When you were finished JJ ushered you inside as you giggled.

You both changed into dry clothes and afterwards JJ had an idea.

“Let’s make some hot chocolate,” JJ announced.

“Yes please,” you answered.

JJ whipped up two mugs of cocoa and you both sipped yours quietly.

“Tastes good,” you whispered.

“Wanna watch a movie?” you asked JJ.

“Sure,” JJ replied.

You both settled into John B’s living room and put on spider-man. You ended up falling asleep on the pullout couch.

——————

A couple days later you were all going out on the boat. The day was bright and sunny perfect for going out on the water.

JJ was looking at you in your bikini top. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at his best friend like that but he couldn’t help it. You looked hot and JJ could hardly look away from your chest.

You were oblivious to JJ’s ogling. You were happy to be on the boat with your friends.

“I can’t believe the weather is so nice,” you spoke.

“Yeah it’s perfect,” Pope responded.

“I thought it would be windy out here on the water,” JJ said removing his attention from your breasts.

“Hope we can catch some fish,” John B announced.

“Should be able to,” JJ commented.

While the boys were fishing, you Kiara and Sarah were on your phones. You were looking through your photos and you noticed how many you had of you and JJ.

There was one of you two at the beach with the waves in the background and a pretty sunset.

“Can I post this J?” you asked.

“Let me see it.”

You handed your phone to JJ and he took it. He scanned the image and smiled a genuine smile.

“Yeah that’s a good one. Go ahead fire away.”

You gave him a smile and decided to post the picture.

After a while you got a few comments. One was from Sarah that said, “Goals.”

You ignored it because you didn’t want to draw attention to it. The last thing you needed was people assuming your in a relationship with JJ cause your not. Your just friends and that’s all you ever will be.

—————

You were spending more and more time with JJ. Sometimes with the other pogues and sometimes just the two of you.

You were starting to catch feelings for him. You didn’t know how or why but being around him brought out the best in you. You started to fall in love with your best friend. You were scared you’ve never felt this way before. And what if he doesn’t love you back.

You decided to go to Kiara and ask for her help. She was working at the wreck, so you made your way over there.

“Hey Kie, I need your help,” you hesitated.

“Yeah sure y/n whatever you need,” Kiara replied.

“Here let’s sit down,” Kiara said as she directed you to a small table by the window.

You sat across from her and she gave you a kind smile with kind eyes.

“What’s up,” Kiara started.

“Well um I’ve sorta had these feelings for a certain someone and I’m not sure what to do about it. I just know I don’t want to tell them,” you began.

“Why don’t you want to tell them,” Kiara asked.

“I’m just afraid,” you bit your lip.

“What do you have to be afraid of?”

“Well first of all he could not feel the same way. He could reject me. He could laugh in my face. The list goes on,” you threw your hands up in the air.

“JJ wouldn’t do that,” Kiara raised a brow.

“How do you know it’s JJ?” You asked.

“Oh come on, who else would it be.”

“You’ve got a point.” you laughed.

“Speak of the devil,” Kiara whispered as you turned to the sound of the door opening.

JJ sauntered in to the wreck, Pope, John B and Sarah following suit.

“The gangs all here,” Kiara exclaimed.

“I need to go,” you whispered to Kiara.

“What why?”

“I just need to, ok!”

You slipped out the back door leaving the rest of the crew utterly confused.

—————

You have been avoiding JJ. It’s not that you wanted to, you hated the distance between you and not seeing him but you didn’t know how to act around him anymore.

You were getting worried because you thought JJ was on to you. Now JJ was getting worried because he hasn’t seen you in a while. He figured that you were mad at him. He hated it.

When the pogues would hang out all together you would not be there. You would miss the activities they had planned.

It was getting harder and harder hiding your feelings from JJ. You would always blush or your heart would beat really fast. So your only option you decided was to stop hanging out with him.

JJ was confused because of your absence. He was going to get to the bottom of this. He was determined.

He assumed you would be at your house. So that’s where he showed up. He knocked on your door a few times and after a few minutes you came to the door. You were shocked to see JJ standing there.

You wanted to run back to your room and hide. You were embarrassed by your actions. Just all of a sudden ghosting him. He didn’t deserve that.

“Hey um so I miss you. A lot. And I think we need to talk,” JJ scratched the back of his neck.

“Sure.”

You stepped outside and closed the door behind you.

“I need to know why your avoiding me,” JJ insisted.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“y/n.”

“Ok ok I’ve been avoiding you because I didn’t want to see you.” You nervously crossed your arms and looked down.

JJ wasn’t buying it. “No. Tell me the truth.”

As you looked into JJ’s pleading blue eyes you felt your stomach flip. You couldn’t lie to him even if you tried.

“Fine. You want the truth? The truth is I’m in love with you. And I don’t know how to act around you anymore. I assumed you didn’t feel the same way so to save myself the rejection, I avoided you.”

“You thought I wouldn’t feel the same way?” JJ questioned.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” JJ confessed.

“Really?”

JJ nodded his head.

“I can’t believe you did all that.” JJ said surprised.

You took a step closer to JJ and he took your face in his hands.

“Come here,” JJ whined.

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You leaned in and JJ placed lips on yours. Instantly you felt electrifying sparks shoot trough you. Your stomach erupted with butterflies. The kiss was gentle and delicate. JJ was excited and you were giddy.

Your lips were crushing together and moving against each other. JJ was feeling warm all over. Your hands were resting on JJ’s shoulders. One of JJ’s hand rested on your jaw and one hand snaked lower to your butt squeezing lightly. This caused you to gasp, allowing JJ’s tongue to slide into your mouth.

After making out you pulled away breathless. You wore a big smile and JJ laughed.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” JJ broke the silence.

“I’ve missed you too,” you responded.

“Will you be mine?” JJ asked.

“Yes, I’ll be yours,” you exclaimed.

JJ picked you up and spun you around, your laughter mixing together to create a sense of harmony and happiness. Since you and JJ were best of friends your romantic relationship will only flourish because you loved each other wholeheartedly.