#I'll be floating to and from work for real

[belethlegwen]

AND THEN SHE DID IT AGAIN ;-;

I can't keep waking up to lovely comments and reblogs and FANART LIKE THIS, I swear to God it'll put me in hospital ;---;

This is a shot from the latest chapter of The Rescue, which you can find: HERE

And it is art done by the incredible @hollewdz who you can find on Twitter: HERE [18+, Mature-rated, Minors DNI]

The way this woman draws size though, for real; the perspectives are incredible and it feels so incredibly natural with the poses and the way the interactions go. DID I MENTION SHE DOES ANIMATION????? Absolute superstar, please go give her so much love because my heart can only give so much in appreciation of all of this, on top of how amazing she is in general.

I will be continuing to scream for a long long time so if you go outside wherever you are and just hear a persistent, high-pitched noise for no reason, it is me. Definitely not tinnitus.

[dvchvnde]

PRAIRIE WOLF | prologue

domestic violence, abuse (not Price). unexpected pregnancy. implied age gap.

MASTERLIST. AO3

He's a regular at the diner you work at.

Sits in the same spot, orders the same thing. Doesn't say much, but—according to Elliot—he never does. English, too. A foreigner. But here longer than you've been. Grown roots. Stretched his legs.

He owns a cabin in the woods that be built with his bare hands, and does odd jobs around town wherever he's needed. Mostly carpentry. Woodwork. Only forty, Elliot says, and already semi-retired. Military grunt, though (and in a terrible, exaggerated cockney accent, he adds) back home.

Running from something, he surmises, and you try not to feel flayed under his heavy, pointed stare, offering little more than a shrug you hope is more blase than you feel and a flat, aren't we all? so what makes his marathon so special?

Comes by at five in the morning, fours hours into a twelve hour shift. Likes, what he calls, an English Breakfast.

He isn't like some of the men who show up after midnight, or in the early hours. Blue collar works hungry for more than rubbery pancakes and coffee. The ones who ignore the split in your lip, hidden under a thick coat of lipstick, the puffiness of your eye. Whispering oil-slick charm at quarter to three in the morning when the pregnancy test you stole from the dollarrama is still buried under bloodied toilet paper in the motel you've converted into a temporary home.

Price—John Price—stares at the mess of your pretty face and meets the ugliness head-on, eyes narrowed into something that might be suspicion. Askance. Wariness. Some amalgamation of what the fuck happened to you and don't bring that mess over to my table.

Quiet. In theory.

You've heard him talk—this low, growling thing; the misfire of an engine, a rumble that reminds you of the old Plymouth Fury your dad had. Dangerous. Men like him usually are.

Little girl fantasies spun into real life. Duct tape. Magnets to girls like you with all the broken pieces, fragile parts. And with the bruises bubbling under your skin—burst blood vessels, fist-sized—and the—

The kid, you suppose. Baby. You can't afford to get wrapped up into something like that no matter how many times you catch him staring.

Watching.

The other server always handles his order when he arrives. Since starting work here four months ago, you maybe had all of a single conversation when you floated through the diner in search of something to do.

more coffee? a glance. a grunt. yeah, love. I'll have some more.

So you ignore it. Him. Keep your head down and pour cup after cup to the other regulars who congregate and pretend you aren't living in a motel to escape a man who seems to prefer you bruised up and bloody. Who—

Knocked you up.

Your hand goes there. To your belly. Nauseous, suddenly, with the thought of it. This.

When you glance up, unease prickling across your nape, you catch him staring at you. At the hand still splayed over your stomach. Something frisson across his expression—whiplike: ripples over a lake—but it's too fast, fleeting, for you to catch. Tucked back inside the folds of his patented frown, the ever present crease between his thick, umbre brows.

John lifts his eyes from your ringless hand, the swollen index finger from when you made the mistake of pointing to the door, trying to stand firm with your luggage hidden in the bushes, and meets your gaze. Stares at you head-on. Implacable as always. Blank.

But—and it's so silly, really—for a moment, you thought it was hunger. Something heavy and dark. Possessive.

Then his head dips. A shallow nod. John looks away, eyes slanting towards the window as if he didn't have to tear his gaze away from your belly. From you.

Your heart is in your throat. This too thick, fragile thing thudding against your jugular. Hard to breathe, hard to swallow around it. In the way—

Outside, tires squeal against the pavement.

John tenses. A shadow falling over his brow, a tug on his lips hidden under thick, wry curls.

You don't know what it is until the familiar gurgle of an engine cuts through the silent diner.

He looks back at you as a door slams. A shout erupts.

Fear is a thick, oily sludge filling your lungs. Tarlike. Sticky molasses. It burns, corrosive, and eats away at your tissue until a hole forms, letting spill out inside of you. To your belly where it hardens into a ferric ball of panic.

You thought you had time. One last shift. Collect your paycheck and then run—

But he found you.

He bellows out your name, angry and a little slurred. Drunk. High. Like the passive, maltreated dog he turned you into, you follow the sound, cowing a little when you see him stumble into the diner, face collapsed into fury.

There's a clatter. The hollow echo of wood hitting linoleum. Screams, his yells. It's all muted in your head. Panic throbbing against your ears, stuffing them full of cotton.

His bruised, marled fist reaches for you—

But John gets there first. His broad stretch of his back filling your vision as he pushes himself into the empty space between you and this man, hands raised, catching his mangled fist in one and grabbing a handful of his shirt, tugging him closer. It's all raw, untameable anger as he huffs into the man's face, grinding the words out on a rough, animalistic snarl—

"Touch her again, and it'll be the last thing you ever fuckin' do."

Stress like this ain't good for the baby, the paramedic tells you, brown eyes dampening with a thick ring of sympathy as she turns over your wrist, and dabs cool, wet cotton over the welts on your skin.

She's pushing for you to press charges. Keeps swiping at your skin to unveil more of your hidden hurts to the police officer that holds an old kodak in his hands and snaps, snaps, snaps at every weakness, each vulnerability she offers up.

It'd be the smart thing to do. He's already being booked on assault, threats. Battery for hitting John on the shoulder, the only place he could reach, with the shovel left by the cooks to scrape the snow away from the spot they usually gather around to smoke. No one brings up the fact that John was choking the life out of him at the time, and the bruises around his neck—ugly red fingerprints—are easily ignored.

Adding domestic violence to the list of charges, she mutters, will keep him locked up. Away from you. Can file for a restraining order, the cop adds, scratching the back of his neck as the camera sits, poised and intrusive, in his other hand.

The problem is that you've been through this before.

Like mother, like daughter.

The knife twists a little deeper. Gouges out another pound of flesh lost to a broken home. Another cog in a ruinous system. Poor kid, below the poverty line, with a dad who sold drugs and mother who did them. Dime a dozen.

And with that comes the knowledge that his sentence will be lighter than they're alluding to—if he has one at all. Upstanding citizen before he got shackled in with the wrong crowd, the runaway. Trouble who breezed through and picked the son of an attorney in the big city some three hours away from this town, this dilapidated diner. Sinking claws in.

My son never drank or did drugs before, your honour—

He'll get off with a slap on the wrist because he's never been in trouble before.

Your dad, too—in jail for the weekend when your mother relented to the impassioned beseeches given to her by rookie cops who just wanted that arrest notch on their belt. Saw a judge on Monday. Prison too crowded for such a paltry offense.

The hurt, after, was always worse than what he went to jail for.

So. No. You won't press charges even though you know you should. It'll take too long and you don't plan on staying much longer. Not with your luggage packed in the trunk. The cheque shoved clumsily into your hands when the manager came out to make a fuss, angling a purpling finger in your direction—nothin' but trouble since the day you were hired—only to be stopped by the wall that is John Price, a snarl pulling up at his lips as he barked call the fuckin' police and, low, as if he didn't want you to hear, adding: you ever point your finger at her again like that, and I'll hang you from the goddamn rafters.

You're not sure why he's still here, standing watch. On guard. His bloodied, bruised hands shoved into his armpits as he paces back and forth like a caged tiger unaware the door has been open the whole time. Stalking. Taking measured, meaningful steps towards anyone who tries to come over—badge or not. Barking out orders. Lancing people with his glare when they tread too closely.

Good fucking samaritan, you think, eyes riveted on the blood drying over the gravel. Your head looping, weaving in arching circles as you try to contend with the fact that it somehow isn't yours, but his.

Maybe that's why he stays. Obligation. Civic duty. It makes you snort, and the paramedic glances at you sharply, assessing in that too thick, too kind, way of hers.

"You doin' okay, mama?"

And you wish she wouldn't call you that. Make it real. Mama. Your idea of motherhood, of mothers and moms and mamas, is a woman slumped on the couch, passed out after staying up all night talking to ghosts. Nails caked with the dust of percocets and restoril and oxycodone (oxycotton, she's always called it). Popping mouthful of pills in the morning, afternoon, evening, and night. An assortment to keep her functional—and asleep.

Nodding off in the middle of conversations. Or fighting it to stay high. Irritated and combative whenever she ran out, supply gone dry.

Toxic.

Neglectful—at best.

You can't think about what you'll end up doing to this kid with her blood in your veins. Her ghosts in your head.

John moves. A shadow in the corner of your eye. "'bout enough of that, don't you think?"

She backs up, startled by the aggression in his voice. "I just—"

You think you hate them both. "I'm fine."

She looks back at you, searching. Wanting that assurance, but whatever she's looking to find, it isn't there. You won't give it, and eventually she nods. Peels back. "Okay. If you feel any soreness at all, if anything changes, come to the hospital."

The nod is for her benefit only, and she takes it with a deep inhale.

It thins out after that. The cop and his camera leave, too, after making you take the paperwork needed to file charges. If you change your mind. His number in smeared blue ink on the back. The paramedics go after another futile round of are you sure you don't want to get checked out at the hospital that's decline with a shake of your head.

It's just you and Price now. Your beatup Saturn three spots away from his truck—an old Ford you hadn't been expecting a man like him to drive, with his thick Levi jacket and his steel-toed boots. Standing there with an armful of paper that's going to go in the trash, you're not sure what to do. How to untangle yourself from the claws of this vicious bear that seems content to loom over you like an unasked for cloud, glaring down at you from the bridge of his nose. Expression pinched, like he's displeased. Mad.

You've had enough of angry men, though, and you turn, offering a hollow smile that works it's way around your mouth like a grimace. "Guess I should head home—"

"Running, mm?"

You blink. "Sorry?"

He leans down, all grit and blunt teeth. "That your plan? Runnin' away from all'a this? Find another town. Another motel."

Another man.

He doesn't say it, but it's there. The implication. The idea. It rankles down your spine, a whitehot ooze of shame. Of anger.

"You don't know me," you spit, all anger and indignation. Embarrassment so sharp, it cuts. "You don't know anything about me."

He rocks back on his heel, mouth flattening into an even line. "No, I don't. But I know your type."

"You—"

The indignity is increased tenfold when he meets your ire with an impassive stare, so firm in his assessment of you that he doesn't even bulk when you glare at him. When you rage in quiet fury, shoulders shaking.

"You'll run," he continues, bulling over the vitriol that stutters out in broken squeals of anger. "You'll find a new place. And it'll be fine for a little while but then you'll end up in the same situation because that's all you know, isn't it? S'why you're not pressing charges. Why you got your bag in your back seat. The slightest pressure and you bolt—straight into the same predicament you're in now."

"It's not my fault—"

"No," he grinds the word, firm and sure, and it snatches you by the throat because no one has ever agreed with you on that. It's not your fault. It's just—

"—all you know."

"What am I supposed to do differently, huh? Stay and press charges that won't stick? Wait for him to get out, frothing at the mouth for revenge? Yeah, right," you scoff, rolling your eyes up towards the stale sky. "End up as another statistic? Or—"

Like your mother. It quiets you. Snuffs the flames. All you feel is scraped raw. Hollowed out. Empty and hitting and—

"So you'll just run your whole life? Until it catches up to you, mm? What happens when someone finds you in a place you can't run? When you're all alone, and cornered?"

It tastes like defeat. Resignation. "You think I haven't thought of that before?"

From the corner of your eye, you see him shrug. "Got yourself into a little mess, but it ain't the end of the world. Jus' got to fix it. Can't do that when you run."

"And what's your solution? Find another job, hope that his charges stick? He—"

Drained you financially. Beat you bloody.

You shake your head. "The best thing to do is to leave. I'll be smarter, I'll—"

He scoffs. You ignore it, hands shaking.

"I can't. I just—I can't."

"Come stay with me," he says. Just like that. Stay with me. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Come stay with me. "Got a spare room."

"I don't even know you—"

"People rent to strangers all the time."

"I don't have a job. Money. I can't pay you—"

"Been needin' a receptionist for some time. Pay is fair. Hourly."

You blink, eyes hot. Wet. You feel the sharp edge of hope digging in, that deadly, terrible thing that only ever falls apart when you finally relax.

"Just like that?"

He nods, sharp and firm. "Jus' like that."

"I have a kid," you blurt out, panicked. This conversation is getting away from you. Slipping through your fingers. And the worst is that it sounds so good. Too good. "I'm—I'm pregnant," you add like he doesn't already know. Hadn't heard you mutter it to the paramedic hours ago.

The look he levels you with is an incendiary thing. You feel it in your chest. Deadcentre. "I know," he rasps, head bending down closer to you. "Doesn't change anythin'."

"How could it not?"

"How should it?" He counters.

"In a few months, when the baby is here—"

"I won't change my mind."

"You say that now," you breathe, pulse thudding in your ears. "But when it's screaming in the middle of the night, and—"

His hand reaches out slowly, like he's trying not to startle a horse. Fingers grazing your arm, warm and rough, before closing around your wrist. The one that's bruised and sore. Swollen in his hand. Its done with measured purpose, confidence, that the panic doesn't have time to surge. Instincts too incipient to keep up with the sure, steady way he winds around you.

With his hand on your wrist, fingers folding over the hurt—hiding them—he leans down, thumb stroking along your skittish, unraveling pulse, and makes you meet his stare. Open, maybe, for the first time since you met him. All raw want, naked truth. The bare, fractured look is enough to steal the air in your lungs, snuffing out the innate protests that spume whenever someone offers any sort of help or charity. The no crushed under his heel.

"m'a man of my word," he low, drawing the words out. "I'll be there for the cryin' and the dirty diapers and the sleepless nights."

"And when I can't work for you?"

His lips quirk. "I offer better MAT leave than most places. Reckon you could even do the bloody job from bed."

"Price, that's—this is insane—"

"John," he grunts, giving another shrug before peeling away from you. "Savin' me the trouble of talking to these idiots. Ain't nothin' crazy about that."

"I could be a horrible person. A murderer. Rob you blind, and leave you with you nothing."

It has the opposite effect of scaring him off. If anything, he looks amused. Squares his shoulders, stands to his full—intimidating, impressive—height. Stares down at you with a brow quirked and strange gleam in his eyes.

"Think I can handle myself, love. And if you wanna rob me, bite the hand, so to speak, then I promise you, you won't like the consequences."

You swallow. His tone sparks against your sense of self-preservation, and you fight the urge to take a step back. To put distance between yourself and this grizzly-like man with blunt teeth and sharp claws.

He senses your hesitation. Must because he quiets, shoulders sinking. Hand warm on your skin, giving a slight squeeze before he lets go. You ignore the urge to chase that heat again, and hide a shiver behind a shift.

"How 'bout a test ride, mm? A trial. Stay for a few weeks and then decide if you still want to leave."

Too good to be true. You know this deep down in your marrow. Every instinct inside of you rebelling against this, screaming trap, it's a trap. But there's a truth to what he says, and maybe if you weren't pregnant, you would have flipped him off and ran because men like him aren't kind to girls like you unless they have a reason to be.

You're just not sure what he has to gain in all of this. Why he put himself between you and harm without so much as a sparing glance. Stayed, too, and barked at everyone who got too close. A thunderous shadow full of teeth.

And maybe it's that. The blood concealing into a thick, pulpy plum over the split of his knuckles, the blood on the gravel that isn't yours, the goosebumps rising over the spot he touched, colder than the rest of your skin, that makes you quieten under his heavy stare. Softening into something agreeable. Unreasonable. Instincts shoved into a box.

So you nod and let him place his hand over the small of your back, guiding you to his truck with a firm nudge. Say anything when he helps you in, hands fastening the seatbelt with a clipped I'll be back when he finishes, keeping his wary eyes on you even as he moves quickly towards your car, grabbing your suitcase from the back. Promises to get your car later, too. Bring it back to his house.

And yours, too, he adds, glancing your way after he tosses the suitcase in the backseat, searching for something you're not sure he'll find. So you look away, staring at the dust on the dashboard as he rounds the truck, and slips into the front seat. It smells like him. Fresh leather and the wild. Cedar and moss. Tobacco. Something heady. Masculine. Soaked sage. Loam. Gasoline.

You lean back on the headrest, breathing it in. Trying not to think.

You'll keep your luggage packed. The keys in the ignition. When whatever it is he's planning comes to the forefront, you'll be ready to run.

But right now—

You just want to sleep. Your jaw aches. Your wrist. There's a knot in your stomach—not good for the baby—and it thickens each time you look at his bloodied knuckles curled loosely over the steering wheel, the other on the stick. Close enough that you can feel the heat bleeding into your knee. All fire and spite, and—

Touch her again, and it'll be the last thing you ever fuckin' do.

"Get some rest," he grunts, eyes slanting towards you in a brief, heavy flick. "I'll stop and get some food soon, too, but it's a two hour drive to mine. And you look dead on your feet, sweetheart."

Love. Sweetheart. I won't change my mind.

You swallow down the protest that swells, the lingering residuum of self-preservation that won't let you bear your neck just yet, and offer a slow nod, blaming the easy submission on fatigue. These aches and pains that weep, tender to the touch.

Your eyes slip shut against your better judgement, the warm interior of the truck, his smell, bleeding a sense of soporific comfort you can't remember the last time you ever felt. Just a quick nap, you think. Long enough to rest your eyes—

It's swallowed under the deluge of exhaustion that rushes through when your shoulders drop, lax. He mutters something, but it's awash under the seafoam that fills your ears, lapping waves dragging you further and further away from shore. Something that sounds like girl good but you can't be sure. Hypnagogia is a terrible a thing that likes to spin dreams, play pretend in the cradle of your subconsciousness until the lines between reality and fantasy blur. Ignoring it is easier than admitting that it floods you with a warmth so deep, sweat gathers along your hairline. Feverish and sickly sweet.

Fingers dance along the edge of your brow, rough and coarse, and it's a devastating thing, isn't it? All this tenderness along the broken edges of yourself, nails grazing the fractures like they can be fixed, pushed back into place, and not as if they're about to shatter. It makes you want to lash out even though you can't feel your body anymore, stuck between worlds of wake and rest. Later, maybe, when the phantom press doesn't feel so sweet you'll snap—broken jaw and brittle teeth—at his hand until he remembers to never touch you again. A risk he won't take.

But with the knot in your belly, a baby there, too, and a body more contusion than flesh, you let it happen. Mewl, maybe, a quiet little slip of a thing, and curve into the palm resting over your cheek. Small and docile, leaching comfort as fast as you can before you remember yourself.

in the moonglade, you murmur thank you and swallow down a rough, painful sound when he scoffs under his breath, and says ain't got nothin' to thank me for, sweetheart.

[dreamsteddie]

There is an AITA out there that I can't find but it's been haunting me for weeks with visions of semi-angsty Steddie that I need to release onto the world. (If anyone happens to know what I'm talking about hit me up and I'll link it)

Edit: @jazzathebunny found the original AITA from Reddit linked Here for anyone who wants to read it. I'm definitely not doing exactly the same premise but this was my jumping off point 😊

Part Two! ------

Modern AU, Eddie and the guys are a moderately successful local band in the Chicago area playing gigs on the weekends and doing small tours whenever they all have the time. Gareth and Jeff are both in college while Eddie and Freak are both working part-time at a game store. Eddie managed to lock down that assistant manager position that lets him work 30 hours a week with weekends off for gigs. All in all, it's a pretty sweet deal and they can't complain.

Eddie had sworn off dating after a small handful of disastrous relationship attempts in their first year in the city. He dismisses any advances from people who attend their shows and tries not to think about how much he wants to make a genuine connection with someone and have something real. He's been burned one too many times to try and make something with someone he met in a bar or at work.

He knows the guys talk about it behind his back sometimes, he catches Jeff and Gareth fervently whispering to each other and stopping when they catch him entering the room one time too many to not suspect they're talking about him and he can't think of anything else going on in his life that they would feel the need to whisper about.

The fervent conversations take a slight uptick one day and about a week and a half after they do, Gareth hits him up and tells him he wants to set Eddie up with a guy from one of his classes. At first, Eddie is skeptical and cites all the reasons why he doesn't want to try with anyone right now but eventually, Jeff jumps in to plea the case and Freak jumps in on top of that and under the combined weight of his best friends he agrees to meet up with this Steve guy.

The guys set up the whole thing and before Eddie knows it it's Saturday night and he's wearing his best black jeans and a gray button-down, untucked, to go on an honest to God blind date like his life is some low-budget romcom.

Steve is not at all what Eddie thought he would be. Not the kind of guy he thought his friends would pick out for him given they know he usually goes for other alternatives like himself. Steve, who is shyly waving him over and getting out of his seat to great him, is the very epitome of prep. Well-fitted polo, light blue chinos, and what Eddie assumes this guy thinks are casual loafers. He's handsome to be sure, a 12/10 at least with perfect hair and defined biceps but Eddie is fairly sure he's being punked.

But, Eddie doesn't want to be rude so he goes to meet Steve at the table, confirming just in case that he's actually here to meet with a guy named Eddie. Steve gives him a bit of a confused look, saying that Gareth showed him a couple pictures of Eddie before he agreed to meet and figured he'd done the same for Eddie off Steve's Instagram. Gareth had, in fact, not done anything of the sort but they both dismiss it and get on with their date.

In all honesty, Eddie is expecting it to be a complete wash, but it turns out that even if Steve is not at all what Eddie would have previously said what his type, Steve is damn near perfect. He's funny, kind, a little bitchy, and even though he proves himself to be every bit the sports nerd he looks like he doesn't turn his nose up at Eddie's own much more classically nerdy interests. By the end of the date, Eddie has a new type and that type is Steve Harrington. He's quick to lock down a second date for the next weekend which Steve happily agrees to. They exchange numbers and Steve gives Eddie a chaste kiss on the cheek that has him floating all the way home.

Steve texted him that next morning letting him now he had a great time and is really looking forward to their next date and Eddie thinks this might be the start of something big for him. When he gets to practice he's clearly still floating on cloud nine and in his own little world designing their marriage invitations and matching tombstones so he doesn't notice the sly grins on his bandmates' faces.

"So...how'd it go last night? Everything you dreamed it would be?" Gareth asks, a strange glint in his eyes that Eddie doesn't clock.

Eddie goes on and on about how nice Steve was and how he might be The One, thanking Gareth profusely. Freak looks pleased for him, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder in congratulations but when Eddie finally tunes back into the real world he's greeted by Gareth's livid expression and Jeff's overly concerned one.

He asks the guys what the fuck is up and it turns out that Gareth and Jeff set this whole thing up as a prank of sorts. Eddie was never supposed to hit it off with Steve who Gareth selected specifically because he's a "totally brain-dead prep" and as far away as someone could get from Eddie's previous relationships. He was supposed to be someone Eddie could go on a date with and not form a connection with without getting completely burned at the end like all his previous relationships in the hopes of getting him out of his slump.

Jeff was in on it as well. He wanted to get Eddie back out there, so when Gareth presented the plan he sat in on a couple of Gareth's general credit business class sessions to help pick the guy out.

After Jeff and Gareth finish explaining he does a complete 180 and just...leaves. In any other situation, he would be raging and verbally tearing his friends a new asshole but instead, he completely disengages and walks out the garage door, ignoring his friends' shouts to come back.

He goes back home, socked and hurt and so very confused about how the hell he found himself in this position when his phone lights up.

New Message: Steve H.

Fuck.

-------

Part two coming soon??? Maybe???? We'll see.

[satoruan]

YOUR BIGGEST FAN — GETO SUGURU

✧･. on vacation with your family, you discover that your biggest fan may not be a mystery after fall.

( TW ) f!reader. camgirl!reader. stepbrother!Geto (in a plot device way, no nii-chan and stuff.) unprotected sex. cream pie. phone sex. squirting. fingering. mutual masturbation. cunnilingus. deception. mentions of bullying. misunderstandings. hurt/comfort. explicit content.  

word count - > 6.6k

authors note. can you see I wasn’t creative with the username? I have a love-hate relationship with this fic because I feel like it goes from 0 to 100 real quick lmfao. This is heavily inspired by the book Eyes on Me! 

“I bet you look handsome.” You smile at the black screen with the default profile picture floating in the middle. 

‘Nah.’ User @Sssman72  types into the chat the takes up the left half of your computer. 

“Stop! Don’t say think bad things about yourself,” You laugh, making sure your tits jiggle in the flimsy red lingerie you're wearing. “I know your handsome baby.” You reassure your favorite client. The man who alone gives you 50% of your income. He’s the one who bought you this pretty lingerie set you're wearing.  

‘You look tired babydoll...how was today?’ He types. 

“I’m fine, I promise, just had a long day, was on a few other private chats with some other customers the entire day.” You confess. In all honesty after this call you were planning to pass out and try to get a few hours of sleep before you had to fly out to your family's vacation home. Today on your live stream, you told your followers you were going on vacation for the next two weeks and wouldn't be online. You didn't plan to get on a call with @Sssman72 but he had texted you as you were getting ready to go to bed that he had a bad day and wanted to see you. Before you had a chance to protest, he spent you 500 and said it would only be 30 minutes. You gave in because first he was your biggest supporter and you wanted to be there for him in some way with all the money and gifts, he sends you and second, you didn’t mind chatting with him, you thought he was the sweetest and you struck lucky the day he joined one of your lives.  

‘I’ll let you go then, I want you to get some rest before your flight, sorry for keeping you up beautiful just needed to vent about my ass job.’ 

“I’m always here for you handsome, I'll make sure to send you those pictures you requested through the week.” 

‘Make sure you enjoy your break babydoll, don’t gotta worry about me. Goodnight.’ 

You say your goodbyes and end up falling asleep in the lingerie bought you as soon as you shut your laptop. 

— 

“How’s college y/n?” Your stepfather asks when you slide into the back seat of the car. Your mother fitting the last of your luggage into the trunk.  

“it’s fine, some of my classes are difficult but nothing I can't manage.” You answer as you buckle in. 

“Oh yeah? Thats good. You mom tells me you started a job a few months ago, how's that working out for you?”  

You tense under the small blanket you’ve thrown over yourself. 

“u-uhm yeah its good—yeah it’s been fun.” 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I don't remember what you mother told me you did again.” He chuckles. 

“Uhm—I'm a bartender, m-my friend works there and got me a position.” You tell him the lie you've rehearsed hundreds of times. You start to sweat under the blanket. Did he buy it? What if he and your mom found out what you did? Are they planning to ambush you when you get to the house? They're going to make you drop out and chain you up in the basement when they find out. You throw the blanket off, suddenly too hot and alert. Guess that nap you were planning on taking during the drive wasn’t happening. 

“Oh, that’s fun sweetheart, I remember I bartended awhile when I was in college, got fired for stealing the alcohol though,” He laughs at the memory before turning to look at you. “You wouldn’t do that though, you’re a good girl.” 

You nod, thankful that your mom decided now to take your stepdad's attention away and get in the car. 

“Alrighty were good to!” She cheers. Your stepdad turns back around in his seat before starting the car. 

“Finally, thought we were going to get a fine parked here another minute.” 

“Oh, shut up! Y/n are you excited to go back to the vacation house? You haven’t been in years!” You mom asks as you guys pull out of the airport.  

“Yeah, I can’t wait to, I missed the hiking trails and the waterfalls. None of that in the big city.” You answer truthfully. You did miss the silence of the secluded house you vacationed at every summer since your mom married your stepdad. It was the company that you hated. As if your mom heard your thought, she says something that makes your heart drop. 

“Suguru feels the same way, we didn't even have to blackmail him to come! That boy...” 

“Suguru is coming?” You scream.  

“Coming? Sweetie, he’s already arrived this morning. I’m so excited were all together as a family again.” 

“Are you fucking serious mom? Turn the car around and bring me back to the airport!” You screech. You were not going to spend the next week with your bully of a stepbrother.  

“Y/n!” You mom gasps. 

“Sweetheart, he’s changed.” Your stepdad tells you as if that's going to make it better. 

“That’s what he wants you to think! He’s the worst human being on planet earth, please don’t make me spend the next few weeks with him, please mom,” you lean over the consul. “Please dad.” You pout at your stepfather. You know he gets weak whenever you call him dad. 

“Sweetheart...” 

“No! You aren’t sweet talking your way out of this, he’s changed. He isn't the same teenager with a chip on his shoulder, he’s matured. He even told me the reason he’s coming is to apologize and bond with you y/n.” 

“He’s lying mom! He doesn't care about me; I wouldn't be surprised if he told you that just so he could drown me in the lake. You guys own the land so nobody would find my body!” You start to tear up. You were going to jump out of the car if your parents didn't turn back around. Your stepbrother was your biggest tormentor since the day you met him. From picking on you at home to getting the girls to bully you at school. He made your life hell for four years. The day you left for college you screamed how much you hated him and told your parents that the four of you would only be in the same room again when you lay in a casket. 

“Oh, don’t cry sweetheart. Your mother is right, he’s changed, I wouldn’t have allowed him around you if he hadn’t. Give us a week and if you want to leave, I promise I'll drive you back to the airport and you’ll never have to see him again, please?” 

“No.” You cross your arms and look out the window despite knowing that they’ve won. You can’t jump out of the car now that you are on the highway, and you didn’t bring your own car to drive yourself back to the airport. 

“We’ll give you the master suite, the whole attic floor to yourself.” They bargain. You act like you’re thinking of accepting the offer. With the master suite taking up the entire third floor you could lock yourself up there and ignore Suguru. You could also film videos and even go live because the room is soundproof. You perk up at that. You could just spend your vacation on stream and chatting with @Sssman72. He’s somehow always free for you and told you that if you get bored you could call him. He’ll make up for your stepbrother’s awful behavior. 

“Fine, I’ll take the master suite.” 

— 

“Okay that's the last of your luggage, we’ll be having dinner in a few hours on the dock.” 

“Kay, thanks.”  You watch your stepdad shut the door. Once he does you release the tension in your shoulders. You lock the door before running to throw yourself onto the huge king bed. You sink down. You didn’t see Suguru when you arrived, you mom told you he was probably in town. You hope he stayed in town for the next two weeks.  

After laying it bed thinking about how much you hate Suguru with a passion you pull out your phone and open the porn app. You click on messages and open your chat with @Sssman72. 

‘Hey...I know I told you I was on vacation but I already wanna go home. You don't have to answer lol.’ You send. He immediately starts typing.  

‘Of course, I'll answer you babydoll. What’s wrong?’  Your face heats at the pet names. You wish you knew what he looked like, all he told you about himself was that he was in his twenties and worked for his father's company. You want to know more, what he looks like, what he sounds like. If the messages he sends make you sweat, you wonder what’ll happen if he spoke to them to you. In your head he’s a handsome bachelor who just so happened to find you and deem you worthy of his time and money but hell, he could be lying. He could be some old rich man in his eighties who likes young girls like all the rest of your viewers. The romantic part of you ignores that and is convinced he is who he says he is and that one day you’re going to meet in person and fall in and have a bunch of his babies. 

‘You know that stepbrother I told you about?’ 

“Mm, that asshole who bullied you?’ 

‘Yep, that asshole. Anyways I bet you won't guess who's here on vacation with me?’ 

‘Are you serious?’ 

‘Dead serious...my parents didn’t tell me until I was already trapped and now, I have to spend my vacation away with a man who hates me for no reason.’ 

‘Wow that’s crazy lol. Did your parents tell you why he chose to vacation with you if he doesn’t like you?’ 

‘Apparently he’s here to make amends...he’s probably here to kill me so he gets all the inheritance.’ 

‘Well, what if he’s really there to make amends baby?’ 

‘You should've heard the groan I just let out. I can’t believe you’re on his side babe. When I tell you that he too evil for that I mean it.’ 

‘Hey, you know I'm always on your side babydoll, I'm just giving you a man’s perspective on it. Maybe he realized he’s fucked up and he feels back so he wants to apologize for all the wrong he caused you’ 

‘Yea well from a women's perspective he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself!’ 

‘Don’t say the baby...hypothetically what would he have to do to get you to forgive him?’ 

‘Hypothetically he's going to have to get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness every time he sees me until I deem, he's forgiven. And he’s also gonna have to send every dollar in his bank account to me AND be my slave for the rest of his life...hypothetically.’ 

‘Lol you never know babydoll, he just might be willing to do anything for your forgiveness. I know I would.’ 

‘That’s because you’re perfect and care about my feelings...now I'm gonna go get some sleep before having to eat with the devil. Pray he doesn’t poison me and I survive the night.’ 

— 

You sit at the dinning room table waiting for Suguru. Of course, he’s late, he doesn’t care about anyone's time but his. You say so to your parents. 

“Y/n stop being so harsh and give him a chance please.” You roll your eyes and go back to scrolling on social media.  

“Sorry I'm late.” You jump at the deep voice before whipping your head to the left where your stepbrother stands looking so...so different. 

“Suguru! No need to apologize! Come sit.” Your mother points to the empty seat opposite you. Suguru glances at you and smiles before walking to the seat. You gasp. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile at you or anyone else. Actually, you know he hasn’t smiled at anyone, he was know for being so stoic. You watch intensely as he pulls out the chair and sits. He looks like a different man, his hair is long, down past his shoulders, the black shirt he's wearing stretches around a huge chest. He looks like he spends half his day in the gym. And those eyes—those eyes that always had heavy eyebags and glared at everyone that looked his way, look at you with gentle look you can’t place. They even crease with the smile that he’s wearing. Your eyes widen, he has a fucking dimple. He looks like a gentleman, he looks handsome. You can't stop staring at his smile. 

“Y/n? You alright?” You Stepdad breaks through the haze you were in. You look at your parents and back to Suguru who all have concerned expressions on their faces.  You feel your entire body heat in embarrassment.  

‘Uhm—yea I'm fine.” You look at your parents, refusing to look back at that smile.  Suguru has different plans. 

“Hey y/n, it’s been a long time yeah?” Suguru says in that deep voice that has your heart beating faster.  Out the corner of your eye you watch as Suguru reaches over the food, holding his hand out. Does he really think you’re about to give him a damn handshake?  

...Are you seriously thinking about shaking that huge hand? No, you won’t. 

You purse your lips and cross your arms over your chest. You swear you see him glance down at your cleavage but the next second, he's holding eye contact. You blink and look away with a ‘hmm’. He lowers his hand.  

“Alright guys let's eat, okay?” You mom breaks the tension. Everyone grabs their share, and you eat in silence for a while, nobody brave enough to speak and you simmering with anger at Suguru. You throw glare at him every time you look up from your plate which happens more times than you’d admit.  

“You got something there.” Suguru points the sharp end of the fork at you. 

“What?” You ask. 

“There,” He grabs his napkin and starts to reach for you. You tense suddenly locked in place. Suguru brings the napkin to the corner of your mouth and wipes it. “There you go.” 

You stare at him like he's grown three heads. Maybe he’s dying and wants to make amends? Why else would he be treating you like this. Maybe someone took over his body? That has to be it. 

“Uh thanks?” You mummer, unsure what to say. 

“You're welcome little sis.” You choke on your spit. What the hell did he just call you!? He must be messing with you; you’re suddenly filled with rage. You glare at him, hoping he disintegrates with the sheer force of your stare. 

“You’ve grown up.” Suguru says after another blinking contest, you lost. 

“Yea, have you?” You snarl. He stops smiling. 

“I have,” he says seriously, setting his fork down. “I want to talk about—” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Please—” 

“No!” You slam your hand on the table, and he goes silent. You’re overcome with guilt before you remember that he bullied you for a year, that he told the entire school to bully you after he graduated. Fuck him. 

— 

You slam the door the door of your room speed walking to the bathroom. You strip your clothes before turning on the tub. You finally breathe when you settle into the scolding hot water. You needed to wash his gaze, his touch, off your body. The entire dinner after your conversation was awkward, your parents didn't really speak, and you refused to glance back up at Suguru who wouldn't stop staring.  

You hated him. You hated him. You—you can’t bring yourself to hate him. For some unknown reason you can’t bring yourself to hate him despite everything he's put you through. Why? You shake your head. You don’t want to think of Suguru while you're trying to relax. You phone dings. You pick up and a smile replaces your frown. @Sssman72. 

‘How are you babydoll, you alive?’ 

‘Yes, wish I wasn’t though.’ 

‘Why what happened during dinner?’ You sigh and send him voice message detailing everything that happened. 

‘Oh wow.’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘You gonna give him a chance to explain?’ 

‘I don’t know I don’t want to but also, I want to hear his explanation...can we call I really don't want to type all of this out?’  

‘Course, give me a second. I'll call you.’ You wait a few minutes before you hear the familiar ring. 

“Hi handsome.” you smile at the blank profile. Right now, you’d do anything to see him, to hear him comfort you, to be in his arms. He could be the ugliest man in the world, you wouldn’t care. 

‘HI beautiful. Talk to me.’ He types into the chat box. 

“I don't know. like I said I want to hear him out but also, I don't want to hear it because what it it’s bad, what if it doesn’t excuse it? But also, what if it does and I feel like shit for being mean back—it's just so stressful.” 

‘I know babydoll. I wish I could be there right now and hold you. I would do anything to take that hurt away. I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.’ 

“Stop, don’t apologize you didn’t do anything. If anything, I should apologize for using you as a therapist when you paid to see me naked.” You laugh. 

‘Beautiful girl—I would rather pay to hear all your problems and be able to comfort you than see you naked again.’ 

“Wow you don’t want to see me naked, I'm hurt. Just kidding, thank you for saying that handsome.” You feel your heart skip a beat at his message. Maybe you can convince him to turn his camera on tonight. 

“I kinda wanna take my mind off everything right now.” You murmur into the phone before turning on your camera. You hold it above you and smile so he can see everything.  

‘So, fucking beautiful, prettiest girl in the world. You gonna give me a show?’ 

“hm,” You use your free hand to tap your chin. “Only if you do something for me.” 

‘And what is that?’ 

‘Can you turn your camera on? And before you say no, you don’ have to show your face—maybe you can just show your dick or something else. We can masturbate on the phone, please handsome please.” You whine giving him your best puppy face. You watch as the chat bubbles disappear and reappear. You’re about to back out but all the sudden you’re looking at a dim lit room and a huge cock between a big hand. Your eyes widen and the sight. 

"Y-you probably won’t be able to type and jack off at the same time” You suck in a breath. Please turn your audio on please... 

‘I’m gonna turn my audio on but I won’t talk, okay? Think you can get off on my moans babydoll?’  

You nod. 

‘Good girl now show me that pretty pussy, make it squirt for me.’ 

You lift yourself up to sit on the corner of the tub, propping one leg on tub and spreading the other that rests in the water. You flip the camera so your mystery man can watch you finger yourself. You hear him groan and spit onto his hand. 

You moan softly at the sound, teasing your entrance. You wish he was talking to through it, but you’ll settle for this for now. One day... 

“Mmm, wish you were the one fingering me right now,” You circle your clit before gliding your fingers out your cunt. 

“Wish you were here, holding me n' fucking me.” You curl your fingers into your g-spot and moan. You look back at your phone, watching your stranger play with the tip of his long cock. It looks so big compared to his hand, you know you’ll struggle to take it. Your pussy clenches around your small fingers that do close to nothing compared to your dildos at home.  

“Wan’ your cock in me so bad, it looks so big you’ll have to force me to take it, you’ll have to hold me down and make me take it.” You cry out. You watch as he squeezes his hand up and down his cock. It looks painful. He grunts louder. 

“M’gonna cum for you handsome, m’gonna give you what you want and make a mess,” You speed up your fingers to match how fast he slides his fist up and his cock. You moan louder, thankful that you got the suite and aren’t in the room next to your stepbrothers, how embarrassing it would be if he could hear you pleasuring yourself.  

You clench harder around your fingers. Your stranger starts to grunt and groan louder. You shiver at his deep voice on the edge of cumming. 

“Please please let me cum please! Can I come for you please?” You cry, your pussy starts to squelch, spurts of liquid coming out. 

“Yes, cum for me.” Your mystery man groans in an all too familiar voice but before you have time to think about it, you’re squirting, the grip on your phone loosening and falling into the water. 

“N-no!” 

— 

“Yes, this phone is done for, your mother and I are heading into town we can try to find a company that sells phone, but you know how small towns like this are.” You stepdad stares at your phone that’s been sitting in a container full of rice since last night.  

“Fuck, I need it for work! What am I going to do?” You look up at him in distress. 

“What do you need your phone for bartending?” He looks down at you incredulously. 

“My boss is sending me some important email and I didn't bring my computer.” You lie. 

“Well, you can use Suguru’s laptop, I saw him using it this morning in the sitting room. Think he left it there before he went on his run.” Your stepdad points down the hall as your mother rounds the corner.  

“Ready to go honey?” She asks your stepdad. 

“Coming! Use Suguru laptop to check your email, if we come back and you haven’t got the email you can use my phone. Bye! Have fun and be nice!” Your stepdad waves before following your mother. You wave back. 

 Of course, you had to use Suguru’s laptop. Maybe you can just log in, tell your stranger that you’re okay and that you won’t be able to contact him until you get a new phone and then delete the history before Suguru comes back from his run. It’ll only take a few minutes...you hope he doesn’t a password.  

You run to the sitting room, but you don’t see a laptop anywhere. Dammit, he always has to make things hard for you. You walk up the round staircase and down the hall until you're standing in front of Suguru’s room. You look around, as if Suguru's gonna pop up out of nowhere and attack you from going into his room. You shake the thought off and open his door. You stop and stare at the bed, you feel like you've seen that duvet. You chalk it up to a bunch of man having the same bedding before turning to scan the room for a laptop. You quickly spot the laptop on his desk and run to it. You sigh in relief when it opens to the last tab he had opened. Thank you Suguru for not caring about who gets into your shit. You click new tab and start to type in the name of the website you use before you freeze.  

You only need to type in three letters before the website popped up in top hits. You stop breathing. No... He couldn’t know what you do. Is that why he came here? Was he going to expose you to your parents? Was he acting nice to butter you up before crushing you? Your vision starts to blur. All boys watch porn, maybe he just happens to watch porn on the same website you film on. You can block your account from him so that he never finds you. You swallow before clicking the tab. You shakily move they pointer over to the search bar before you spot something in the left corner that makes you dizzy.  

Right where the username of the viewer is supposed to be is the username @Sssman72. Your heart stops and you feel wetness hit your hands. This can’t be real. You move to chat and cry out when you see your username. The last text he sent was asking what happened. No—this is a dream; you’re going to wake up and this is going to be a bad nightmare. You refuse to believe the man you’ve been slowly falling in love with over the last six months is your stepbrother, your bully. The man you confessed all your darkest secrets is the man who never showed you an ounce of kindness. Is this a part of his master plan? Is he going to blackmail you and hold all the nudes you’ve sent him and all the secrets you’ve told him over your head. You’re going to become his slave, doing whatever he wants of you until you die. You curl into yourself and cry harder at the thought.  

“Y/n? What are you do—” Suguru stops when he sees what's on the screen. “Let me explain please baby.” He reaches out to touch your shoulder. You flinch away from his touch.  

“D-don’t call me that,” You sob staring at him with such heartbreak in your eyes he wants to drop and beg for your forgiveness. “You-you, it was you the whole time.” Your voice breaks. 

Suguru nods slowly trying to reach out for you again. You take a few steps away. “Was this some masterplan to hold me under your thumb for the rest of my life!?” You scream at him. 

He’s grateful your parents went out of town; this would be an absolute shitshow if they were here.  

“No babydoll—” 

“I said don’t call me that you asshole! Stop pretending. I hate you Suguru! You win okay, you win!” You tell him before you run out of his room. He curses before running after you, you run up that stairs and into the suite but before you can shut the door Suguru shoves it open. You drop to your knees to pull your suitcase from under your bed. 

“Please listen to me y/n. I wasn’t faking—stop packing and let me explain.” Suguru pleads as he watches you throw your clothes into your suitcase. 

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me please” He grabs your arm, and you try to fight him, but he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He hugs you around the waist and you push in this chest trying to break free. His heart aches. He hates seeing you hurt, he hates that he was the one who made you cry like this. He hates that you only associate him with the version of himself that he created to stop anyone from seeing what he was truly feeling. He hates that you won’t accept the real version of him now that you know it was him. He holds you tighter as you scream and cry. He whispers sweet nothings as you whisper how much you hate him. At some point you stop fighting and wrapping your arms around his neck. You sniffle into his neck, and he rubs your backs and rocks you.  

“Why?” You ask hoarsely after all the anger leaves your body. Now you feel numb, like you're watching your life from a third perspective.   

“I never hated you, I never lied, and I never planned to blackmail you—I know you don’t believe me baby but everything I've ever told you on that app was real. Everything I feel for you is real.”   You pull your face out of his neck and stare up at him. You don’t believe him. 

“I have never hated you y/n. I swear it. I hated the fact that my father replaced my mother with yours not even a year after she died. Baby, I never fucking hated you. I was just a teenager who didn’t know how to express my emotions so I took them out of the person I knew I could hurt the most. It was bad I know; I feel like shit to this day. When I graduated and got away from my father, I realized how bad I was to you, and I got into therapy. I wanted to be better for myself, for you, for everyone around me. I didn’t know that the bullying continued when I left. I didn’t know how bad people had taken it until that day I came back home. When you told me off about it, I was so confused. I’m so fucking sorry. I want to reach out and apologize for everything and the day I planned to do it Satoru—my best friend, you remember him—well he sent me the link to your account and so I made an account and it all just spiralized out of control after that. I was too embarrassed to tell you it was me and then we started to form a connection, a real connection, and I didn’t want our conversations to end so—fuck I'm sorry. Everything I told you; I meant it. I fucking meant every word.”  

You sit there stunned, trying to comprehend everything he said. You never knew about his mother. You thought she had passed away long before your mom and his dad had met. But you remember when your stranger told you that. God, you remember when your not so mystery man told you about his family the seemed so familiar to yours. And he didn’t tell all those people to bully you after he left? Did he mean every word? Every word of affirmation he gave you. Those times when he told you that you were capable of being loved and that you were going to find someone who would love every part of you, the good and bad. Was that the same Suguru? You try to wrap your mind around the fact that the man you love is your stepbrother. 

“I know it’s a lot of information.” 

“It is.” 

“Do you believe me?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. You do. Despite everything you find yourself nodding. He sighs and you feel the tension release from his shoulders that your arms are wrapped around. You suddenly realize the position you two are in and feel your face heat. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your legs are on either side of his thick thighs his cock, the cock that you saw last night, is right underneath you, if you lower yourself an inch, you’d be sitting on it.  

Suguru grips your waist with one hand, the other cupping the right side of your face. You look up at him and sniffle. He leans down until your foreheads are touching.  

“If you give me achance, I'll treat you like the queen you are. I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. One chance is all I ask for.” He mummers rubbing your noses together.  

You hesitate, one part of you wants to run away with him because he’s the man you’ve wanted for the last six months. The other part of you wants to run away from him, he’s your stepbrother, he lied, and you don't know if he would’ve ever told you the truth. But isn’t that what he came here to do? Can you blame a little boy for being mad at the people who replaced his mother?  

You give him his answer by grabbind his neck and push his lips towards you. If this does go to hell at least you’ll have a story to tell your feature children.  

Suguru kisses back before standing and pulling you off him. “What—” 

“You said you wanted me on my knees, didn't you? I’m ready to serve you in any way you want. I can have my savings transferred to your account by tomorrow night.” He says as he drops to his knees. You stare at him with wide eyes as he holds your legs and starts kissing from knee to right where your pussy starts.  

“Suguru—” 

“Shh babydoll let me take care of my girl, show her how sorry I am for hurting her.” He mummers before dropping your leg and picking up the next one. He repeats this a few more times before finally asking you to lift your hips so he can pull your leggings and panties off. Suguru throws your pants behind him before standing up to pull your tank top off. You reach behind to unbuckle your bra and toss it on the floor with your other clothes. Suguru chuckles, reaching up to kiss all over your face. 

“Take your clothes off too Sugu.” You giggle, reaching for his sweatpants. You get a firm grip and yank them down. His thick cock bounces out. Your mouth goes slack. The phone call didn’t do it justice. It somehow looks bigger than before and if you weren’t wet before, you are now. That thing is going to be inside you soon.  

“Like what you see beautiful?” You nod dumbly as you watch Suguru step out of his pants and take his shirt off with one hand. He’s so fucking sexy.  

He drops back down to his knees and pulls you until your ass is hanging off the bed. “Lay down and let me please you.”  You comply and watch as Suguru lifts your legs up and buries his face in your cunt. Your hands fly down to his long shiny hair. 

“Suguru!” You moan as he licks you from asshole to clit. He sucks on your clit before biting both lips. Your pussy clenches. “Feels s’good Sugu!” You grind down on his talented tongue. Suguru hums into your clit before setting one of you thighs in his shoulder and bringing his fingers to your entrance. He teases you, only pushing his fingers into the joint before taking them out. You cry out in frustration before pulling on his long hair when he finally slides two big fingers into you. 

Yours definitely don't compare to his long thick ones. Your back arches off the bed as Suguru fingers jackhammer into you all the while his mouth sucks on your clit.  

“S’good Sugu! Don’t stop!” You scream letting go of hair with one hand to cover your loud mouth.  

“Don’t hide those sweet moans from me babydoll. If you want my cock, you’ll let me hear you scream my name as you cum on my fingers and mouth.” 

You bring you hand back to hair and grind hard as you get closer and closer to orgasm.  

“Gonna cum! M’gonna come!” You cry, as you release all over Suguru's face. He moans and sucks even harder before adding another finger. You cry at the sudden intrusion. It doesn't take long before you’re coming all over again, this time liquid shooting out of you and onto Sugu’s chest.  

“Yes baby, that's it—what a good girl,” He praises as he slurps up all your juices. “Such a fucking good gril f’me.” 

“Gimme a kiss.” You say between heavy breaths.  

“Does the pretty girl want kiss?” You nod, pulling Suguru down with you by the shoulders. 

“Want you to kiss me while you fuck me for the first time. Want it to be special,” You confess shyly. Suguru leans down and pecks you on the forehead, then the nose, and then both of your cheeks. 

“Don’ tease meanie!” You laugh when he kisses the corner of your lips. 

“M’sorry baby, can you forgive me?” He pouts.  

“Hmm—I’ll forgive you only if you kiss me right no—” You don’t even finish your sentence before Suguru shoves his tongue down your throat. You kiss him back and your tongues fight for dominance. Suguru wins and smiles into the kiss. You can’t believe this is happening. Your bully, your stepbrother, your mystery man is kissing you right now. Your about to make love with said man. 

“You okay babydoll?”  

“Mhm, just can’t believe this is all happening.” 

“Me too beautiful, you sure you want to do this right now? We can always wait.” 

“No, I want to. I want you.” You raise your hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. He smiles, showing you that adorable dimple. You kiss it.  

Suguru kisses your lips once more before he grabs his cock, rubbing it up and down your cunt. 

“Fuck—I don’t have a condom.” 

“I’m on the pill—please Sugu.” You beg, frustrated from all this foreplay. You’ve been on edge since last tight in the tub.  

“Alight beautiful,” He pushes the head of his cock into you. “Fuck me—you feel so good. Always knew you would.” You feel his fist guide his long cock into you. You moan. He fits you perfectly.  

“Sugu—feel’s s’good, want more!” You cry, fisting the blanket’s underneath you.  

“Does my baby want more—does she want to orgasm on my cock?” You nod watching Suguru lift your legs to his shoulder. He leans down, bringing your feet to the side of your head. You whine at the stretch. 

Suguru groans as he pulls his cock in and out of you.  

“S’too much!” You moan into his shoulder. He just laughs and picks up his pace. The fancy headboard above the bed starts to slam against the wall. You watch with blurry eyes as the stock photos hung on the wall shake.  

“Said you wanted more baby, ‘m giving you more.”  he says before biting into your neck. Hard. You scream, back arching at the pain. Your hands fist the sheets even tighter, knuckles turning white. Suguru unlatches his jaw. Lifting his head to admire his mark. Now all your customers will know you belong to someone. To him. He kisses the mark. 

“Sugu, It’s too much. Hurts! m’gonna cum!” You cry, tears soaking the blanket breath you. 

“Oh, don't cry baby—shhh—you’re so beautiful y/n. So damn pretty.” He whispers, coaxing you to orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You stop breathing for a second as your pussy contracts around Suguru's cock. Suguru follows in suit, spurting his cum deep inside your pussy. 

“Fuck,” he draws out, collapsing onto you.  

“T-that was—” 

“The best sex ‘ve ever had.” 

“Same.” You smile before wincing. 

“What’s wrong babydoll.”  

“You're about to break my damn hip if you keep my legs up any longer,” Suguru lefts himself enough to bring your legs to his sides. “And you probably ripped a chunk of my neck off with that little trick of yours.” You grumble. 

“It’s not bad, promise.” He kisses the bite mark softly. 

“And all the pictures fell of the wall.”  

“I’ll put ‘em back up baby,” He laughs into your ear. “Just let me hold you for a second.”  He kisses your cheek before snuggling deeper into you. You throw your arms around his shoulder while you both try to wrap your head around everything that happened.  

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Multiverse Police (pt. 2)

"You said you're going to ask questions, then can we ask questions?" Superman really tries to be polite here because, first, he was raised by Kents and, second, Jazz and the whole interdimensional police thing looks non-hostile. At least now.

The redhead nods, "Sure, ask away, I'll answer everything I can." Then, she notices Batman reaching to touch the green shield and makes a soft, warning noise, "Ah, sorry, please don't touch it. I can show how it works later, but it's not meant to keep you out. It's to keep everything else in."

Batman reluctantly puts his head down and turns to her.

"Elaborate."

The sci-fi ship in the air makes a loud hissing sound, like compressed air being released, and the bottom part of it slides open. Jazz nods in the direction of the now open ship.

"You know what they say, it's better to see it once than to hear it ten times."

There are three humanoid figures standing in there. All of them are mostly monochrome, black and white clothes, starkling white hair. They look like one adult and two children, but it's one of the kids who raises his hands to his mouth and yells so loud everyone in three miles radius is able to hear him:

"Step away from the shield, please, shit's about to get real!"

None of the heroes move, but Jazz does take a few steps away. Wonder Woman, after a moment of hesitation, follows her example.

A mechanical voice comes from the ship itself, "Countdown to the breach. Five... Four..."

On 'three,' all three of the monochrome figures step out from the ship. But, before any of the heroes have time to worry, they all float in the air, undeterred by gravity, and the ship door closes behind them.

The countdown reaches 'one'. And in the next moment, it looks like the hell breaks loose.

Countless giant vines shoot out from the portal up, reaching for the ship. True to what the red hoverboarder said, they are very much toothy, every vine splitting in two and attempting to bite the ship like some twisted idea of scissors.

None of them reach it.

The oldest of three kids claps his hands, and a wall of raging fire descends on the vines, throwing them off. In the next moment, the trio falls apart, flying through the lovecraftian mess of carnivorous plants with practiced ease, the younger ones using what looks like icicles and little storms.

"Who are they?" Batman asks Jazz, following the youngest one's - the only girl among the three - movements as she creates a strong gust of wind with a wave of her hand. None of the vines or attacks get past the shield, though.

"My siblings," the girl answers, pointing her hand at the oldest one, "That's Dan. He's the most violent. One time, he destroyed our original world, but that timeline doesn't exist anymore." She then points to the girl, "That's Dani, the youngest. She rarely joins the crew lately. And she is actually a clone, but at this point, most of us have been cloned once or twice, so it's not a big deal anymore." She then points her finger to the last one, a boy that flies past them quicker than a lightning, freezing everything he touches, "And this is Danny. He is the most powerful one. Technically, he could have just ended the fight with one Wail, but kids like to have fun. Also, they don't get to show off their elemental powers a lot, so they are mostly being dramatic for you."

She says all this so easily, just like a matter of fact, and it is at this moment that the members of JL realize the sheer power of whoever these people are. When she casually told them she bested Superman, it could have been written as a coincidence, a joke. But this?

Dan growls as one of the vines scratches his shoulder. He bleeds green, but it's only for a second before both the wound and the suit knit themselves back together. This is not just a simple accelerated healing, it almost looks like a miracle.

"Oi, brats, I'm done with show off, get out of the way!" He yells at the other two, and Danny and Dani quickly follow the order, flying closer to him and behind his back.

"Cover your ears," Jazz tells the heroes around her, and puts her helmet back on, as Dan takes a deep breath and screams.

It hurts even those who follow Jazz's advice. Batman feels like his eardrums are about to be shattered for the lack of better word. But the vines like the sonic attack even less - most of them subdue and pull back inside the portal, and the rest is dissipating like they are being burned from the inside out.

And then, just like it began, the scream - the wail - stops. The silence feels deafening after the end of it, but slowly, the sounds return, and the JL watches Danny flying down to the center of the portal. He puts his hands on the surface of it, and for a long moment, nothing happens.

And then the Pit starts closing up.

Or, no, it is Danny who absorbs it, the green flowing up through his hands, his veins that start glowing the same green. His eyes become the same toxic color, with no whites and no irises, just glowing green all over, and his hair shimmers like stars.

A few minutes later, the portal is gone, like it never even existed, and Danny plants his feet on the ground and stretches, like one would do after a good rest.

"Oof, that was nice!" He turns to the other two, who are still up in the air, "Do you want some?"

Dan flips him off before going back to the ship, but Dani floats down to him and extends her hands out.

"Sure. I like getting it from you better than from the portal itself anyway. Gives it a sparkling taste, like Sprite," she chuckles. Danny takes her hands in his, and the green glow slowly makes its way through their joined palms, now flowing through the girl’s body.

"What are they?" Flash whispers, horrified, but Jazz hears it nonetheless and turns her head to him, taking her helmet off once again.

"That is not a very appropriate question," she chastises and smiles at their faces, "But it's okay, I get it. They are ghosts. Or ectoplasmic entities, or halfas, or highly liminal beings. Or, if you want a very simplified version, they are dead kids who are enjoying their afterlife a little too much."

"Dead?" Batman zeros on the word, snapping his eyes at the girl. She smiles, and for the first time, it doesn't look human. Her teeth are too sharp, her grin too wide, and her eyes are suddenly not just teal, but neon bright and glowing, with vertical irises.

"Most of us are dead in one way or another. And I do not mean it in a metaphorical sense."

-------------------

What I'm thinking is they have a whole system going on. Amity Park generally resides in the Realms, but from time to time, they decide they want to go on a vacation, as a whole town, and they pop into existence on one of the Earths. They don't really care for the universe or dimension they end up in, as long as it is more or less peaceful (as in, no active wars going on right where they pop up), has sunlight and nice weather.

The GIW is taking care of legal things - imagine US government reaction when a whole ass town just boom, starts existing in a place where nothing existed before? So GIW does all the paperwork and discussions. Also, they are doing their basic research on the dimension they end up in, for science purposes.

I'm thinking Vlad is still a mayor of Amity. And sometimes, when a particular dimension is rather annoying, he straight up possesses the authorities because he hates official talks and couldn't care less for morals if he tried for a week. The GIW scolds him, but don't really say no. It's not a good solution to the problem, but hey, it works.

Meanwhile, Fentons are doing ectoplasmic research. They scan the dimension for troubles, basically, looking for natural portals and ghosts causing ruckus. Jazz is almost always the one who does the talking to the heroes native to the dimension - she is the one who has the most patience and social skills. Jack is in charge of transportation and Maddie is the head of biological, ecto-biological and other species research. Tucker is the tech specialist, of course - he is the sole reason why Amity has wi-fi wherever they go. Val and her father are, kind of, protectors? Security? But for the whole town, yeah. They do have GIW agents as subordinates.

Dani is not always living in Amity, she travels the Realms most of the time, but she joins when something interesting happens. Dan is, like, on an eternal probation period, GIW and Fentons keep an eye on him, but he is one of the heavy hitters for when shit goes down.

Danny is living his best life, he is mainly the protector spirit of Amity, but he also gets to protect all the dimensions from ghosts! He helps anyone and everyone - one day he is working with Val on defenses for their main ship they use to travel inside dimensions, and the next day he is joining Maddie in her studies of new species found.

Oh, I forgot Sam. She is probably the one responsible for the magic stuff - mostly everyone else focuses on scientific aspects, but she is the one to research on occult things.

| <- prev | next -> |

[biscuitsandwires]

In which Danny wakes up in a weird place.... again.

The thing about Danny, is that he often wakes up in really, really weird situations. Like way more than you'd think, way more than he'd even like, really. He doesn't get that much sleep, being y'know, half ghost, and with school work and having to fight "The Forces of Evil" half the time it gets kind of... tedious, balancing things like sleep and eating and even getting water in him.

It's not really a good thing, but he started carrying around a water bottle he can clip to his bag. It reminds him to at least drink something, when he doesn't have time to grab anything to eat.

But because of all that fun stuff, the not sleeping and not eating and things, he often finds himself taking... unplanned naps. Waking up on the floor, his bed, his desk, one time even in his locker, but that was before his growth spurt. He's a little too big for that now.

Of course, this might take the cake, in terms of weird places he's woken up. He's never been to Gotham, that he remembers, and he certainly has never been to the Wayne Manor. He'd remember that, he thinks, what with the grand architecture, the giant paintings of random people with pearl necklaces and suits... yeah he'd know if he'd been here before.

"Ah, you are awake."

He tries really, really hard not to react to the sudden, aged voice next to him. It sounds like a nice guy, mature and soft like a wool blanket. But he has no idea where he is, when it is, anything, so in one second he's still on the big bed (which it is a BIG bed) and the next he's... well.

Floating ten feet in the air with his fist raised.

To his credit, the older gentleman staring up at him merely blinks, then sighs. "Another enhanced fellow, I suppose. Of course you are."

It's enough to lower Danny's hackles, his confusion growing the amount of time it takes to slowly float back to the floor.

"Can I uh... Can I ask where I am?"

The older man gives him a look. "You, young man, are in the Wayne family home. I'll ask you not to touch anything until the young Master gets back."

That... didn't really clear anything up, if Danny was being real. So he tried again. "Can I ask, uh. Why I'm here, sir?"

Mama didn't raise a ruffian with no manners.

Another sigh, the older man looking like he wanted to go take a nap himself. "I am not fully sure, myself. Young Master Damian found you, I suppose, and brought you here. You have been unconscious for a day or so."

Well. That was concerning all on it's own. Who was Damian? Was he a Wayne? Why was Danny in Gotham at all, he didn't remember a field trip or anything involving Vlad.

He might have started panicking if there wasn't the sudden, entirely too enticing smell of pancakes suddenly under his nose.

"You're entirely too skinny, young man. It's breakfast time." The older gentleman said, holding a tray of wayyy too much food for one person in front of Danny, and really...

What was he gonna do? Deny the man?

He would have to figure out what the hell was going on, later. Right now he had a date with the nicest looking spread he'd ever seen.

"And young man, you may call me Alfred."

Danny grinned, gently taking the tray from him and setting it on a nearby table. "Danny. It's good to meet you."

"Hmm." Alfred mumbled. "I certainly hope so, Master Danny. I certainly hope so."

(pt 2 here)

[mazamba]

Baby Steps

Dani slurped her milkshake noisily as she shifted back to the visible spectrum, interrupting the argument between the so-called adults. It'd been a hectic week, she'd been part of Young Justice for less than a week, yet they already had a crisis in the form of a maybe-evil clone.

"Do you mind?" growled Batman.

"Try a different word."

Superman raised an eyebrow.

""Father" is too heavy, try "brother" instead," she continued, "I mean, Phantom's technically my dad, but I don't call him that. He's my 'cuz!"

"What we call each other isn't the problem."

"No, but it's less scary isn't it? Danny was fifteen when I met him. Imagine if I'd called him dad. He'd have freaked out!"

Batman nodded, seeing the logic.

"And even then, I kinda needed some time to put my head together, you know?" she rattled on, floating crisscross applesauce in midair like a balloon in the breeze, "It's the real reason I left the first time. Maybe some time apart would be good for them? Microdose in family!"

"What we call each other isn't even half of the problem," sighed Superman, "you're a clone too, right? You once told me it was weird to know things you didn't remember learning. Clones are made and programed, sometimes with sleeper programming."

"True, but that's what we're here for," she figured, "I mean, I can't take you on, but Superboy's a different story. If he does go nuts, he has the whole Junior League to take care of him."

"I can't ask you to put yourself in danger."

"You're not, I'm volunteering," figured Stray, finally floating down to the ground, "look, Phantom and I work because we took the time to figure out who we are to each other. You two need time to figure out what you are, not get shoved together and hope for the best."

Batman grunted.

"This is a shock, it was a shock for Danny too. Sa- A mutual friend told me he had a panic attack an hour after I left. Started looking into childcare and stuff. She had to stop him from running after me with a diaper bag and they both crashed into a tree. Tu- a different friend sent me a picture."

"Your point?" sighed the Bat.

"I just said it? Forcing things helps no one. Just... put them in general proximity of each other and let the cards lay where they may. I know what you want to help Superboy, but forcing them into a get along shirt is just gonna hurt them both. You have to think of Superman too."

"And if he does go rogue?"

"Then we stop him."

"That easy?"

"That easy."

Superman sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, the whole situation was a lot less scary by simply changing the word. And what Stray said made sense, in a roundabout sort of way.

For his part, Batman was mentally kicking himself for hyper-focusing on Superboy's needs without taking Clark's feelings into consideration.

"We'll go with your plan," he agreed, "Superman, I'll need you to have a word with Black Canary. She will mediate with you and Superboy whenever you wish to meet, but I need you both to agree to this before we move forward."

"And if we can't?"

"Then he'll have to get adopted into somewhere else," figured Dani, sitting in midair again, "nothing good will happen if we just dump him on you. Neither one of you deserve what happened."

---

I'm sick of people dumping on Clark. Considering how he and the others live, I can't blame him for being suspicious.

Some other guy got replaced by a clone that didn't even know he was a clone. It wouldn't be that weird for Connor to have sleeper programming.

If anything, this is on Batman and the others for trying to force a relationship.

[lynnuvo]

୨⎯ Long Gone Princess ⎯୧

Characters: Yan!Thief x (Y/N) reincarnated as Rapunzel A lot of you guys enjoyed the Cinderella version, so why not make a Rapunzel version? Very much considering making this a Yan!Fairytales Series.

Stowed Away

When you first awoke in your tower, you panicked for days. There was literally no way out, no matter how much you clawed at the bricks. It didn't take long to figure out where exactly you were. Who else would paint a mural of herself, seriously long-haired, gazing at floating lanterns?

Meeting Mother Gothel was the most anxiety-inducing thing you had to push through. You pitied the real Rapunzel for falling victim to her sugar-coated, poisonous words. As much as you internally cringed at them, it wouldn't serve you well to raise suspicion. After all, you have nowhere to go.

Whenever Mother Gothel was gone and you finished tidying up the tower, you emptied one of your chests full of female paraphernalia and stuffed some "safety equipment inside." Hopefully, Mother Gothel wouldn't notice a missing pair of scissors. Or a few darts.

Your now abnormally long hair was disturbing, to say the least. It was pretty, but now that you were living her life, you wandered how Rapunzel managed to put up with the hair strands scattered around the house, washing the heap of keratin proteins for hours in just ONE day, and sleep knowing there was at least some hair flowing to the floor. And let's be real: you were not going to spend most of your day braiding it just to remove your work whenever Mother Gothel came back.

Unfortunately, you couldn't afford to cut your hair--not just because it'd give Mother Gothel a heart attack but because it might help you. It did have magical healing powers. The only huge problem was that you were not skilled enough to maneuver your hair like Rapunzel. In addition, if you were to leave the tower, how would you return? Until you found the secret entrance amongst all the brick, you needed a backup plan.

One day, you gathered the courage to ask Mother Gothel for more fabric to sew a beautiful wedding dress, one that was colorful and very long. Of course, you left out the part where you wanted it to be long enough to reach the bottom of the tower (it'd be a lot of work, but what else were you going to do to escape?). She was skeptical about the idea behind the dress, but you reassured her that you just wanted something like those girls in the fairytale books you had in your room. After her lecture about the dangers of the world, she agreed to get you fabric.

My Savior

One morning, while you sowed your dress, you heard the sound of metal jabbing into something growing closer and closer. In a panic, you shut off your sewing machine and tied up as much as your hair as possible. There was no way you could capture Rapunzel's beloved thief the way she did. You vaguely prepared for what to do when he arrived, but you hadn't expected it to be that day!

At last, he fell into the tower and froze at the sight of you. He glanced behind him and turned back around, stepping away from the window with hands up. "Uh. I am so sorry for breaking into your home."

You pointed one of your scissors (used to cut fabric earlier) at him with a glare. "I'll forgive you if you hand me that bag you have."

"Listen, miss, I think we can sort this out without--"

"The bag or I'll throw you back down."

He gulped and reluctantly threw you the bag, begging you to please return it to him afterwards. The shock he had at your nonchalant expression while pulling out the most sparkly crown you've ever seen was laughable. In reality though, you were in awe. You quickly snapped out of it, though, and threw it behind you. You both cringed at the clanging it made as it hit the floor.

"I need you to listen to me," you started, gripping your scissors and your dress. "I need your help."

You didn't hesitate to cut to the chase. You explained that you were kidnapped by a woman claiming to be your mother and trapped in the tower by her. Although it may backfire on you later, you shared that you were reincarnated from another world. He was in disbelief until you told him his full name, his criminal history, the companions he had who would soon betray him, and the small cottage he visited along with many more criminals or outlaws. He challenged that you just did your research, but then you told him what crime he had just committed: stealing the missing princess's crown, which was--by the way--you.

After some back and forth, he agreed to help on the condition that you return the crown. You agreed to return it on the condition that he not only help you escape but also help you live in safety.

Together, you both clawed at the bricks on the wall until the secret backdoor was found. He helped you come up with a way to hide the new backdoor again whenever Mother Gothel returned.

You found a pattern in the earlier months leading up to then on Mother Gothel's pattern of visitation. She comes back every three or four days in early evening. If she didn't return by the time the sun disappeared, she wouldn't be back at all. That day was one of those days she wasn't going back. You suspected she wouldn't return for a while since she had just left the day before. Although hesitant at the idea of a new roommate, you demanded that Yan!Thief spend the night in the same room as you. He balked at what he thought was an implication, but he soon found himself sleeping on the floor (you dropped a blanket for him). How were you sure he wouldn't use the secret backdoor while you slept? You boobietrapped it before bed, making sure he stayed in the room so he wouldn't see under the threat of murder.

Steal His Heart

Your new routine was a scary turn but also surprisingly relieving. Yan!Thief would leave the tower in search of a new home for you (and him too) and would return in the afternoon only if a piece of purple fabric hung outside the window. Otherwise, it wasn't safe to come back.

Although your relationship started off rocky (who's to blame him with how violently you approached him?), you two soon warmed up to each other. He sometimes returned with small goods that you sometimes got a clear answer for how he retrieved. That chocolate he got for you both to try? He pickpocketed it. That ripe fruit that tasted like mildew spring? He dodged all of the questions.

Eventually, you gathered the courage to leave the tower with him. Your activities differed from there. Sometimes, you both ventured a little ways from the tower to discover the terrain and help find a new home. Sometimes, you both would spend the day walking around, learning more about each other and chatting away.

With no other companion, it came as no surprise to Yan!Thief that he developed romantic feelings for you. You didn't want to admit that you did too. At least, not until you both were in a safe place.

At last, Yan!Thief found an abandoned shelter. It was rusty, but it was closer to the kingdom than the tower but sheltered away like the tower. With a pounding heart, you gathered as much as you could from your tower into a backpack that Yan!Thief had brought over and left forever. In the shelter, you cut your hair, rendering it free from its power. Yan!Thief initially didn't want it to happen due to your great abilities, but one look at your determined face told him that you knew better.

The next couple weeks was spent in paranoia, you in fear of Mother Gothel and him in fear of guards. Luckily, you two went as far as making it into the kingdom without getting caught.

One day, you brought up the idea of revealing your identity to the king and queen while fidgeting with your crown. You reassured Yan!Thief that you'd vouch for his safety and freedom for as much as possible. It took a while for him to warm up to that, but you two finally made your way towards the castle.

Everything went surprisingly as planned. The kingdom rejoiced at the return of their princess, Yan!Thief was spared of a prison sentence and was even given a home and job as a prize for bringing you back, and the dead, rotten body of Mother Gothel was found not far from the shelter you and Yan!Thief had found.

Life was a fairytale.

MY Princess

Until it wasn't.

See, although you and Yan!Thief seemed to start opening a romantic chapter, that soon closed. With your newfound title came new responsibilities, friends, and much to his worries, a possible new love interest.

He tried his best to remain just a friend to you, but it was unbelievably hard. He couldn't believe that you were slowly forgetting him, your savior! Why must you abandon your knight in shining armor?!

He did feel guilty for not appreciating his new life more. Any other criminal would probably fight tooth and nail to be in his position, but he just wasn't happy if you weren't there with him.

Once his selfishness began to boil over, he devised a plan he wasn't sure if he was going to regret. He paid a visit to your room in the castle (you had given your dear best friend special permission) and chatted with you a bit. You apologized for being so distant as of late; royal duties had been keeping you at bay. He accepted your apology more readily than he had expected. It was hard not to with your bright smile and the cute way you pushed your hair behind your ears. He asked if you had time to visit the old tower for memories sake, and you happily agreed. The kingdom had yet to find the tower (you insisted to him that you wanted it kept secret in case you needed to run away again), so you simply told your guards you were heading out for a stroll.

Once at the tower, you two ventured inside and reveled at how dramatic your lives had changed. You even reminisced your life before being reincarnated. As the sun fell, you got up and suggested that you both should head back before it gets dark.

"Yan!Thief?" You peered at his gloomy expression. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded. got up, and hugged you. You let out a gasp before embracing him back. When he left go, you caught a tear slipped down his cheek. Your hands shot up to cup his face. "Yan!Thief?! What's wrong? I'm here. Did something happen?"

He sniffled and brushed a hand over your cheek. "I'm so sorry."

You were about to demand an explanation until you caught a glimmer shine from a blade in his other hand.

When you woke, you found your ankle chained to your bed--not your bed in the beautiful castle you were meant to be in but in the tower you had escaped from a year ago.

Yan!Thief came in the room and apologized with tears streaming down his face, exclaiming that you were just too irresistible to give to any other man or even the kingdom. He promised to take care of everything.

No matter how much you screamed, threw items in a fit of rage, or revealed that you only had romantic feelings for him all this time, he wouldn't budge. It was only until he bought a longer chain that he freed you from the bed. Your heart broke when you discovered he had discarded the wedding dress you had worked hard on and abandoned in the tower long ago, and even more so when you saw that he had built a new door in front of the original secret entrance.

You were back to square one, only this time with no way out and betrayed by the one person you truly trusted in this universe.

[faeryarchives]

catch me (diasomnia x gn!reader)

requested by anon: hi, hopefully your request still open! can i request for diasomnia? where the boys kabedon mc, resulting them blushing so hard then the physical closeness enough to make mc pass out there. yeah it's kinda romantic and crack in the same time. note: delayed bc my bed broke haha (loose screw) + i got sick... requests are still not open this is a request from long time ago 😓 yuu and reader are different ppl! u have no idea how i love this (made sebek's part kinda angsty idk) 🤍 !! recent works: hey chat (first years x gn!streamer yuu!) divider credits to @cafekitsune !! her works are so pretty real 🤍

-‘๑’- malleus draconia (3rd year ramshackle dorm leader - beanfest)

'it seems like i am on the farmer's team this year. how about you, treasure?' your eyes landed on your dorm mates chilling in the lounge - eyes sparkling in unknown excitement. "what team did you and grim got assigned to?" "oh, (name)-senpai! we got assigned to the farmers team!" a shiver ran down yuu's spine after a smirk plays around the edges of your mouth. "(name)-senpai?" "that means i'll be on the monster team, huh? good luck tomorrow!" "wait, we are going up against you?!"

the survival of the beanest - the event that most students are waiting for while some of them loathes it

given that you, grim and yuu are the only members of your dorm, it was natural for you to be opposing teams -> leading you to face off against your lover, thee malleus draconia

its not often you would be on opposite sides in anything after all

after the orientation about the rules, students started to group according to their teams leaving you and malleus alone together. the fae had the most dejected everyone ever seen. he slowly took your hand in his, holding it tightly as if he doesn't want you to go to the other side. "what a shame, we could've bond over this." "you silly fae, who said we couldn't bond over this?" in a blink of an eye, malleus found himself being hugged. as if waiting for this moment, the soothing wind picked up scent of fresh lavender invaded his senses, reviving his spirits - as malleus watch you bury your face to his shoulder. before he could wrap his arms around your frame - you pulled away, grinning. "let's have fun, yeah?" "heheh, it seems i won’t be bored today."

not being able to get even a good luck kiss from you made the diasomnia leader a menace because he will lock his target for real and he will make sure he finds his target (ok this going the wrong way)

while the farmers' team looked formidable having most of the housewardens, it couldn't be denied that the monster team have the athletic and agile members - including you

you were pretty confident in your skills really and having to plan with azul and the others really gave you more confidence and boost so it will probably go well!

"there are so many players who got eliminated immediately huh?" after eliminating more than enough players, you and lilia start to scurry through the woods, you see players of opposite teams now leaning on trees looking defeated and exhausted. "well that is because all the youngsters are thrilled to let out their fun!" chimed lilia as he float next to you, his laughing smile was a clear sign of his amusement that made you a little wary. "so, i heard someone challenged our malleus to a little game. i wonder who might that be?" "hahaha how silly, who would challenge mal anyway?" the fae stared at you for a solid minute before smiling ever so eerily. the two of you exchange no more words, only hearing the rustling of wind as you run - that is until a shadow jumped right in front of you, almost bumping into it if it weren't for your reflexes. "holy-" "... good luck little bat." in an instant, lilia vanished, leaving you with the diasomnia leader. one look at him and his devilish smile was a charming mask for his mischief. "i found you."

from the start it was already hopeless to think you would be able to take him down, so you resorted to one thing - playing a game of tag

and the other students didn't even dare to step close to you because holy moly, malleus was beaming!

you don't know how long you were running for. one minute? five minutes? thirty? it felt like you already ran through the whole campus yet malleus doesn't make any move to capture you- or so you thought. "come on, treasure. don't strain yourself." you could feel him just right behind you, his deep voice ringing in your ear and sending shivers throughout your body. "this wasn't supposed to go this way- ah!" turning around, you see malleus face very close to yours causing you to trip over a large tree root and your hand grabbing the nearest one next to you - which is malleus as you both fell to the grassy ground with a loud thud near your ears. head throbbing from the fall, eyes squinting as the sunlight decided to shine on you at the moment. "... lright, (name)?" you could barely make out the voice calling out your name and after a solid minute, you finally regain your senses. "malleus?" (eye color) eyes locked onto bright green eyes blinking rapidly as malleus panic, but that was the least of your concern. because all you know right now is that you are under the fae - his arms and legs caging you in, you can barely even move! one of his hand is on your cheek, caressing it ever so gently like you were made out of glass. what set the alarm go off in your head is the non existing distance between your faces, noses are almost touching and lips one inch away from another. "are you alright, my treasure? did you hit your head hard? shall i burn the ground?" before anything else, malleus heard you mumble something inaudible, confused as why you start to cover your face with your hands. nevertheless, wanting to prioritize your being over anything, malleus leaned in closer, eyebrows furrowed as he gently pry off your hand over your face. "can you repeat that again...?" his voice grew softer and softer as he finally put the pieces together after seeing your cheeks blossomed like a flower over the years, even your ears were burning red. "...i surrender." "so i win?" ever so curious, the fae decided to lean in more - casually rubbing his nose with yours so casually causing you to blow a fuse.

while your group won in the end, i think we all know who the real winner is 😊

-‘๑’- lilia vanrouge (3rd year ramshackle dorm leader- stitch tropical turbulence)

right now, you don't know why a little blue ball of sunshine named stitch is clinging onto your shoulder, comforting you.

honestly you don't know how you got dragged into the whole mess. you even rarely go to the library!

if anything it is crazy that you got teleported in another dimension on the day you decided to read some books in the library (like literally staying inside)

just as you were about to go to the other side of the library, you find yourself following the familiar sound of your friends chatting away. walking right at the corner, familiar faces filled your vision. "woah, what are you all doing here? this is an unusual big group." "dorm leader, what are you doing here? you don't come to the library often." "nothing, just a change of pace for today. i just feel like doing it." "oh, little bat!" a blur of black and green rush suddenly rush in and tackling you into a hug that you reciprocated without batting an eye, which to everyone's surprise. "hello to you too, lils. what are you up to?" running through his hair affectionately, the fae started to share what they previously talked about before you arrive. "i miss you." "lils, we just saw each other like two hours ago." as if your words just entered one ear and exited the other, lilia wrapped his arms around you tighter, burying his face into your shoulder. "mrah?! what's going on? it's so bright?!" and being lost in your own world, you didn't notice how grim and floyd proceed to open the book - engulfing your group in a bright light. and that is how you find yourself alone in the island.

for some reason, the book wanted you to be separated from the group - waking up with small blue little guy next to you, shaking you awake

you didn't know when and how long you were out for but you are pretty sure you are alone - except for the owner of the soft small paws patting all over your face. eyes fluttering open, you find yourself face to face with a blue... koala? "...huh? what-" from the corner of your eye, you see a large figure pointing something at your direction - emitting a laser which is surely going to hit if it weren't for you rolling out of the way. "what was that for?! are you alright?" you scanned through the koala for any injury, its curious eyes watching you carefully. "another one of those humans? never mind that, give me experiment 626 this moment." the mysterious being slowly made its way to you, loud thud following with each step. "you mean this little fella...?" your blue furry friend was hiding behind you, snarling - arms multiplying?! but the thing that caught your eye is the charm hanging around his neck because it's the one you made for lilia not too long ago. "lilia's charm..." as if hearing a familiar name, 626 immediately perked up as if realizing something. "stitch is friend! not enemy!" it garbled, waving his arms in the air trying to prove its innocence. "lilia gave stitch necklace!"stitch thought that you might not understand but to his surprise - you quickly stood up on your feet and started to run away from gantu. "you are making a big mistake, human! that is no ordinary creature - 626 could destroy anything its path!" you looked over your shoulder, and stitch could see your eyes sparkling with mischief and curiosity. "sorry but no way i am trusting you over my lover. let's go stitch!"

it became a game of hide and seek and actually having stitch as your company wasn't bad + he even helped you to reunite with your friends who somehow came into the island a day before you

surprisingly lilia was nowhere to be seen, others saying he went out to explore so you ventured the island once more

having to explore with no interference like robots attacking you or even gantu pointing his laser gun, you finally get to enjoy the island's beauty. blanket of golden sands, palm trees swaying gently, hearing the waves lapping at the shore and the taste of salt on your lips- everything was just so refreshing. "... i wanted to spend this moment with lilia too." you muttering dejectedly, feeling lonely due to the absence of your favorite bat fae. with your mind wandering somewhere else and mindlessly kicking through the fine sand, you failed to notice how someone creeping up behind you. noticing the presence a little too late, a faint whisper drifts through the air, seeming to come from everywhere at once. a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your waist "it seems like the wind guided my way to you." you yelped, pulling and jumping away to glare at the floating lilia, who is now giggling and flying circles around you. "lilia! you scared me!" "that was but a little surprise, my love. i missed you too." seeing how you stomp your foot on the ground, lilia descended from the air to stand in front of you, poking your cheeks playfully. "forgive me please?" still feeling a little embarrassed, you refused to look at him in the eyes and turned the other way. but the ever so persistent vice dorm leader of diasomnia refuse to back down. he took small steps towards to which you respond by taking small steps backward until you find yourself backed up on a tree. 'oh fuck.' as if reading your mind, lilia didn't even give you time to escape by slapping his hand on to the tree behind, trapping you in. "(nickname), can you forgive me?" "..." "love?" "(name) (last name)." his other hand caressing your cheek so fondly as he turn your head to look at him. his eyes widening in surprise seeing your face turned into shade of beet red, eyes looking everywhere interesting other than him. seeing you all embarrassed made him tease you even more, leaning in even more until your foreheads are touching "please?" as if imitating an oven, lilia watched your completely turn red and smoke coming off you. the next thing he knew, you fainted in his arms, your eyes spiraling. "...oops."

there were questions lingering in the air when lilia returned to the bungalow with you fainted in his arms, but that is for another time.

-‘๑’- sebek zigvolt (yuu's twin - phantom bride)

while everyone got to have an audience with eliza, they expected that they would be following the plan flawlessly because surely there are nothing that can ruin the flow. until they utterly failed in wooing the lady. you shocked them even more by walking so freely in the venue, waving at them with sheepish grin on your face. "well if this isn't awkward!" "(name) how did you get caught too?!" "oh, that is a good question..." sebek could feel his inside sour as he watch eliza wrap her arms around you in an oh so gleeful way - the nerve! even sebek himself doesn't have the courage to do the same thing! "oh my dear friend, you really came!" "but of course! i don't really have a choice..."

well apparently eliza took you too to be her best friend to the wedding - you were at the wrong place at the wrong time and you fit her requirements!

you could run anytime you want but leaving your gaming buddy alone was too cruel, especially when he is begging for his life for you to stay 😭

"... are you guys still there?" asking something so obvious to the all frozen students who got slapped by the bride made them look at you as if you were a lunatic. "what do you think, (name)?" "not my fault you guys decided to make it a competition..." mumbling that last part loud enough to tease vil and leona while sending rest of them an apologetic stare - you turn your attention to the next candidate for eliza, which is sebek. questions start to run though your mind after sharing an eye contact with your lover - trying to talk through nonverbal cues only for him to get the wrong idea. seeing how he pumped his fist was a bad omen already. "he is going to be one of us, isn't he?" a chorUs of agreement rang out from the eliminated squad, watching as their soon to be companion approach the ghost bride. "what is your name?" "MY NAME IS SEBEK ZIGVOLT!" the bride stopped, as if sensing something in the air, wondering why this man in front of her looked determined even though his friends are now her captives. nevertheless she went on with the audience. "how would you know if you are in love and how would you love someone?" usually, everyone would expect sebek to burst into a ranting fit about love and how will it be related to malleus and waited for a minute, then five minutes then another but they were only met with silence. "... you wish to ask me questions about love, ghost?" sebek carefully asked eliza, disbelief written all over his face as the bride nodded yes to his question. "he is going to fail this one." leona yawned, just wanting everything to be over with. sebek slowly blinked his eyes, arms crossing in front of his chest as he drown himself in his own thoughts. "...you wouldn't know immediately if you are in love, it will just sink in your mind on a random day that maybe you treat someone a little more special than others. that you can't really see a future where they are not there." his words trailing off. "and how would you love someone? that is a stupid question." sebek glanced at your direction and it felt ike he was saying it to you rather than eliza. "just give it your all. and love unconditionally. it doesn't matter if you are the most powerful ruler, the richest man or just a normal person in the world. if both of you knew you share the same feelings - everything will just click in place." no one dared to speak after sebek's speech as he rendered everyone at loss of words. eliza knew everything was perfect, his answers were good but why does it feel like- "those are not for me." she then turn to look at you, gaze softening at the realization. "you're out." eliza hesitantly raised her hand, ready to strike when you suddenly ran past the two - but not without grabbing sebek's hand. "sorry eliza, this one is off limits."

you sweatdropped after hearing your friends screaming you name

maybe it's the short time that you get to know eliza helped you to gain her trust even just a bit as you noticed how there weren't any ghost soldiers following behind as you stopped running at the hallway.

not to be that person but crowley can find other people to resolve this issue, not just passing responsibilities to children.

the only thing you need to do is to get to your sibling safely - right?

"what were you doing back there (name)? it could be dangerous for you!" shocked from the volume of his voice, you jumped while holding your still linked hands together close to your chest. if sebek didn't look worried back there, he was certainly playing the part even more now. "sebek, the whole campus is filled with ghosts." "and i was looking for you the whole day! you weren't even answering your phone, your sibling didn't have any idea either!" you didn't know how you backed up into the wall but now you have nowhere to go. sebek was zooming in without him noticing. "do you know how worried i was? i thought you vanished into thin air!" "love, we can-" the unexpected then happened, sebek slammed his hand to the wall right next to your head and buried his head into the crook of your shoulder, giving your jaw small kisses. "don't do that again, please. at least give me a heads up first..." stuck in the same position for a few minutes, sebek was starting to get worried when you fell all silent on him causing him to peek at your face only to see you overheating on the spot. "(NICKNAME)?" "i'm fine..." "you are not fine at all!"

-‘๑’- silver (2nd year ramshackle dorm student - white rabbit fest)

being able to visit one of your dorm mate's friends was incredible - never would you imagine that you would be joining the white rabbit fest with your lover, silver!

he was the one who actually invited you, which was rare because you were often the one who plan for the date

it was a saturday morning, with all your pending tasks and reports finished - you finally had the time to laze and goof around. a perfect day just to lie and watch your favorite series until a knock from the dorm's entrance rang out through the empty building. "huh, yuu and grim wouldn't probably knock at their own dormitory... must be ace and deuce." you stared at the open space, debating if you should succumb to your laziness and ignore the person on the door or stand up and see who it is.

" i'm too lazy to stand up." groaning, you buried your head into your pillow and waiting for the person to go away. "(name) are you inside?" ears perking up, body moving before your brain could process, you find yourself right in front of the ramshackle's door within thirty seconds and tackling your boyfriend into a big hug. "silver! what are you doing here? come in!" leading the knight inside, you both find yourselves in the lounge with your head on his lap and your hands playing with his. "i wanted to ask if you could come with me to the queendom of hearts and celebrate the white rabbit festival." hearing that made you froze in the spot. "(name)?" "is that a date i hear?" "i heard there are good dating spots there-" "SAY NO MORE!"

no was not really an option because its a great opportunity! heck, you even planned a whole itinerary on the outing

researching about deuce place makes you feel like you know his hometown more than himself.

when the day finally came you were so thrilled and overjoyed especially when everyone changed into their rabbit costume thanks to deuce's mom

"aww, yuu looks like a lost child in that suit." while waiting for the others to finish changing, you teased your prefect and bumped their nose playfully with your finger. "hey that is not nice at all! i am so telling silver." yuu grumbled, fixing their hat to hide their face from you, grumbling something inaudible. at the mention of the knight, you scanned the area and not one silver hair was found in sight. "where is silver? if i recall, he was the first one to change clothes..." "(name) i am right behind you." when you turned around to face the sound of the voice, your eyes lightened up like christmas lights on christmas day seeing silver looking very dashing and cute in his suit. "i need to send this to lilia, you look so good!" "(nickname), you look great too, as always. you are really perfect in everything." yuu laughed when you finally fell silent and tears started to roll down your face, making silver suddenly go to panic mode. "you can't just say that to me silver-!" "sorry, i love you." "i hate my life as a third wheel. where is grim when you needed him the most." yuu muttered bitterly.

exploring the town and everything it has to offer, it was no surprise that you were having the time of your life.

especially when silver youd pull you to the side and give you the things he not iced that you were looking at while walking - even got you both a matching pocket watch clock 🥹

but it couldn't be denied where you will eventually get unwanted attention

while the first year group went to try out some rides that ortho found nearby, you and silver finally got to spend your time alone together - that is until something caught his eye that prompt him to stand up and leave for a moment. turns out there were eyes waiting at the right time to do their plan. one by one the group of strangers made their way towards you "are you all alone?" they waited for a response or even a reaction from you but to no avail because your eyes and attention were stuck onto your phone. "hey, do you ignore us!" "people like you really ruins my day." this seemed to set off a wave of irk mark among the men. there were other people around the area but we all know no one really wants got get involve in a battle where you are fighting just to lose your honor in the end but these guys were persistent. "come on, it's not that b-" the man tried to reach out to you and just when you were about to leave and meet at another place with silver- a hand shot through between the tiny space, a loud thud of metal ringing as silver put his arm in the way, shielding you from those guys and stared deep into their souls. "i believe they said they are fine." silver turned his attention to you close and gave you a small kiss on the cheek. "were they bothering you, my love?" "... i'm alright! i could kick their ass anytime anyway!" seeing how you got absorbed in your own worlds, the strangers took it as a sign and leave without even looking back. "(name), are you alright?" turning his head back to look at you, silver was taken aback when he saw literal smoke coming out of your head and your face radiates heat at this point. to make it even worse - silver leaned in closer making your foreheads touch each other. "(name), you are burning up! we need to get some help from ortho!" "i don't think ortho can save my heart from this..." and if it wasn't enough, silver kept you really close to him - arm to arm, hand in hand and noses almost touching. one more inch and silver would surely kiss you on acc-. a child no older than 6 bumped into silver's legs causing him to close the deal and kiss you accidentally. "oof, sorry about that!" *1, 2 ,3 WARNING WARNING! (AME) SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN!* "my love!" and that was the final straw and your last memory before fainting was silver carrying you in his arms. so cute, he is not even a knight in shining armor but a rabbit knight. BEST DATE EVER.

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn’t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

[mayordea]

Happy birthday to the number one princess in the world!! 💖

~from her biggest fans :)

ramble of my scattered thoughts on the piece under cut as usual cuz i love talking 😋

This has been an idea I've been cookin for a while, and it was so cluttered and unlike any other ensemble piece I've made... and I decided I oughta do it anyway. I love Miku, I love Vocaloid, and I wanted to do something really ambitious and crazy for her anniversary. Crazy that she's turning her "canon" age this year TwT

I had the idea floating around since like, May...? And then finally started acting on it around June 18. I'm terrible with deadlines, obvious with how I can never make a silly birthday post in time, so I started wayyyy ahead to make sure I have some room to be lazy lol, especially with an idea as ambitious as this.

This was finished on July 12! So I had to sit on this for an annoying amount of time. Very difficult for someone like me who just wants to talk about everything I'm working on to the masses. But at the very least, that gave me the time to work on the draft for this post.

~~~

Here's some ~behind the scenes~ scribbles leading up to the finished piece!

Left is the chicken scratch plan i made in my handy dandy notebook (whenever things are getting real and ambitious, i always made a rough ROUGH plan in there. Usually I'd do a rough pass of the full thing, but this was too complicated for me to do traditionally. I majorly benefited from digital tools to make this possible). CyberDiva and CyberSongman were considered, but I ended up cutting them cuz I just didn't feel like drawing them sorry-- (just pretend they're off to the side. They gave Ruby and Clara the pizza lol). Right is the "final" completed sketch (before I decided to include Chika mid-way through coloring and VY1 and VY2 near the finish line). I started by drawing the main "groups" separated on a different canvas so I can plop them into the main canvas for easy rearranging and transforming. However I got lazy and ended up drawing everyone in the bottom right corner directly on the canvas since I liked seeing the big picture of everyone's positions. Y'know.

Almost excluded Chika! But I like her design so much that I just felt like including her last-minute. You win this time, Chika fans. VY1 and VY2 were very close to being cut! I added them when I began doing the banner and thought "eh why not". I figured their non-human designs would be pretty easy to include pushed back in the bg. Ik VY1 is more commonly associated with the fan design, but I referenced the hairpin cuz it was simpler and the fan looked very annoying to draw 😭

Sorry to the fans of many Vocaloids I had to cut because this composition was insane enough as is. I promise I wanted to include fellas like CUL, LUMi and Sachiko 😭 I will admit I was a little biased on who I wanted to include over others. Like, I don't normally care for Bruno and Clara, but I wanted to get some more international 'loids in the mix. Also wanted to stick in the realm of official designs and not fan-designs since, as much as I can appreciate those, are just a whole "wait who is that guy supposed to be" situation I didn't wanna deal with. I also did wanna include even more character references through the balloons, but they ended up being kind of ugly and overcomplicated the BG :,) (Oh, and while this was originally planned to be a Vocaloid-only piece, I did end up including Teto, Neru, and Haku 'cuz those are Miku's besties dude!!! They may not be Officially in the club but they're her girls and it would be criminal to not invite them to her birthday).

Anyway, this project marks the first time I've drawn a lot of Vocaloids. Lily, Piko, Rana, Yuki, Yukari, Miki, Maika, and many more lol. All of 'em I've heard or seen in passing, but now I actually drew them, and some have really cool and fun designs!! I got into a habit of drawing Merli after this since I just love her design for example. And I'll probably be drawing more lol!!

Oh and the last thing I'll add for now!! The cake is indeed made up of various song references!! I wanted to reference the "big four" producers, just absolute icons in Vocaloid history. The pink/black checkerboard is "World is Mine" (Ryo), the crescents on the side is "Rolling Girl" (Wowaka), the smiley faces is "Matryoshka" (Hachi), and the three hearts on the side is "The Vampire" (DECO*27, which is sort of a symbol of his whole Mannequin album tbh). I know "The Vampire" is a bit modern but I couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head. I'm a fake DECO fan I know 😔 "Matryoshka" was originally going to be referenced in the colors of the candles but believe me it looked like shit so I just went for something else last minute 😭

That's all I have to say!!! Hope you didn't mind the text wall if you made it here. I hope you like it as much as I do!!!! Happy freakin' birthday Miku!!!!

I have to deal with tagging all these characters now for my page,,, in the drafts my tags got cut off after a certain point so I think I'm massively breaching the tag limit 😭 um... I'll figure that out later...

not losing sleep that i can't tag everyone, even for page organization purposes because some characters have pretty generic names and some are a little hard to see in full yknow. If you're one of those people who tag every character in the art piece you reblog... I am very sorry.

[ddejavvu]

hi!! sorry if this makes you uncomfy but do you write for gay reader? I was just wondering cause i had a request about everyone on the team sssuming spencer and reader are together and one day derek or someone straight up asks and shes like i thought you knew im gay??

Perhaps you should have seen it coming, but you're genuinely perplexed by all of the raised eyebrows and gossip floating around when you shroud your goosebump-clad shoulders in the protective warmth of Spencer's cardigan. The office air conditioning is on high today, and it's particularly unbearable where your desk is stationed, right beneath an uncovered vent. You're getting blasted with icy air, and Spencer's kind enough to share his sweater so that you're not shaking.

"Thanks, Spence." You take the sweater from him eagerly, sighing in relief when the cashmere instantly soothes your shivers, "I thought I was going to freeze my ass off under this vent."

"Thanks, Spence," Derek repeats, his typically deep voice pitched up at least two octaves, "Oh, Spence, next you should take off your shirt!"

You stare at him with poorly-concealed bewilderment, unable to do anything but blink at him as he laughs at his own perplexing joke.

"I bet she's gonna take that home and sniff it," Penelope snickers, "Wrap it around her pillow and go to town."

"Guys!" Spencer's blushing madly, his cheeks redder than the stripe around the chest of his cardigan, still hanging over your shoulders, "That's- that's completely inappropriate for a work environment."

"And it's a complete misdiagnosis," You laugh, finally understanding their persistent jabs, "Going to town is a little different for me than it is for most. I'm not going to the town you think I am."

"Alright, I'll bite." One of Derek's brows raises quizzically, "What town are you headed to?"

"Probably Vegas, if Emily's still planning on rescheduling that Sin to Win weekend. Any town where I can sin with women is usually the town I'm going to."

Now both of Derek's brows are raised, this time in understanding, "Oh. Okay, so you and I have something in common, then. Okay, okay, we're gonna make this work! You're comin' out with me this Friday, okay? We're gonna see who can get the most ladies' numbers."

"I'm making it work fine on my own, Derek." You grin, bordering on a smirk as you announce, "I've got better plans for my Friday night. I'm going out with a woman on a real date, not trying to see how many girls will write a fake number on a bar napkin for me. But have fun, and let me know how many times a man calls you back Saturday morning and tells you you've got the wrong number."

Derek whistles, a low, defeated sound, "You are going to town. Well enjoy your Friday night the way you want to, I'll enjoy mine the way I want to, and maybe we'll meet up at the same motel sometime past midnight."

"Deal." You snort, holding out a hand for him to shake, "If we get rooms next to each other, we can high-five through the conjoining bathrooms."

[dokidokitsuna]

The Diary of Penny Polendina

The other day I was inspired to try working on a different NeverFell Projects installment, one that would probably be a lot shorter and quicker to write, because it's not like I care that deeply about Penny, right??

Well, I was incredibly wrong. ^^; So wrong that I'm actually having trouble with this story now...essentially, Penny goes through a bit of a 'rebellious phase' (gross oversimplification, but that's all you get for now) and there are, surprisingly, a lot of aspects of that character arc that I want to explore. Plus, a pivotal connection with Pyrrha, the climax of which I haven't quite figured out yet...

God only knows if I'll be able to finish, or if I'll just write the first 2/3rds of the story and leave it at that. But I figured I might as well warm up by talking about the designs. ^^

Penny's new look is basically 'Disney's Pinocchio, color picked from Arthur Watts' character design'~

I didn't necessarily want her to look evil, just...bolder. Like she specifically picked 'daring' items that maybe her father or Ironwood's PR team would rather she didn't wear, at least not compared to the more innocent frilly pastels she had on before. Between the chest window, midriff, and short sleeves, she's actually showing a lot more skin than before, despite still being 90% covered up. ^^;

Those multicolored wrist accessories are prototype weapons invented by Dr. Watts, that mix and pressurize Dust from the cartridges to cast "artificial magic". This way I get to do a bit of the 'Winter Maiden Penny' stuff in this Vol. 3-locked AU~

Penny's magic usage is one of the things that stumped me when writing this story...In NeverFell, magic isn't just glowy rainbow lasers or weather powers-- it essentially allows the user access to any conceivable semblance at any time; its potential is limitless. Being a beginner, Penny would probably just come up with one signature 'spell' to use in tandem with her Floating Array...but I can't decide what I want her to do. ^^; I think I'd like for her to do something connected to dance, because I feel like that's something unique to her, the way she dances with her weapons before striking. Nobody ever points out how the "robot" in the cast is the one who chooses to spend energy on unnecessary movements that aren't even used to maneuver around an enemy; they're just cute and fun. ^^ I think that's a great encapsulation of who Penny is~

Redesigning Pyrrha is always super difficult, because her original design is so perfect. But I like this end result a LOT. ^^ I may need to adjust the pant legs a bit, but overall it feels like a very believable alt outfit that keeps the spirit of the character.

Pyrrha is another one of the stumbling blocks in this story, because I'm now forced to create at least one malleable personality trait for her-- i.e. one that isn't intrinsically tied to Jaune and/or the plot. Something that she could actually take into a meaningful relationship with a different character... I had the idea to expand her "I'm sorry!" gag into a real guilt complex, where she has trouble letting go of instances where she's made mistakes or hurt someone. In this case, dismembering Penny 1.0 and essentially ending her life. :T She seeks out 2.0 in a desperate effort to make things right, and ends up helping her with ...things, and growing as people or whatever, and all that other stuff I have yet to write. ^^;

I just realized that Pyrrha could use her polarity semblance to pull Penny towards her in a situation where they need to reach each other...that's so cute. ^^ I gotta remember that~

[wheeboo]

RANIAAA MY LOVELY HRU😍😍

this is such a random thought but i had this idea in my head of superman!mingyu who’s just a gentle giant in a big muscular body🥺🥺 an adorable coworker at a newspaper outlet that fights crime

clark kent superman mingyu... IM GONNA RIP MY HAIR OUT RACHEL UR PUTTING THOGUHTS IN MY HEAD !!!!

no cuz ik mingyu would be the type to apologize for his superhuman strength after punching the bad guy 😭😭 like my dude is just always underestimates his powers ITS SO CUTE AND ENDEARING NGL 😭😭

anyway here's a long ass headcanon cuz they gave me SO MUCH BRAINROT LMAOOA

superman!mingyu who looks so DASHING in his suit and he always likes to wave to the pedastrians when he's flying and watching over the city

superman!mingyu who besides using his powers to fight crime he's always called to help save some kitty who got stranded in a tree, his red cape flowing so elegantly behind him as he floats down to the ground, cradling the little one in his arms :((

superman!mingyu who while patrolling sees some thug snatch a person's purse, making him throw away the doughnut he was eating and flying off after the thug. he manages to retrieve the purse back and returns it to back to the owner... to you hehe. his heart may have done a lil leap once you gave him a thankful smile

superman!mingyu who struggles to keep his heroic identity at bay, thankful for the pair of glasses that he wears to blend into the normal commotion of society. he's almost been caught one too many times, and there's even a lil dent in the elevator from his hands at the daily planet

superman!mingyu who finds out you work as an A-list journalist at the daily planet. tries his best to be so friendly and charming around you--gives you coffee in the mornings, opens the doors for you, offers you a shoulder whenever you're stressed. just doesn't help that he's called into action at the worst times possible, but this doesn't seem to sever your little connection together :')

superman!mingyu who asks to treat you after a stressful day at work, and even offers to walk you home, lamely using the reason, "well what if someone comes up and snatches your purse? I'll be there to save you!" and lowkey regrets saying that afterwards thinking he gave himself away HAHAH

superman!mingyu who almost impulsively confesses his feelings for you at your doorstep, but just has to be interrupted and called into action. has to contemplate for a moment, before promising that he'll explain everything soon and rushes off

superman!mingyu who secretly hovers near you when you're walking home at night to make sure you're safe :(( and subtly guides you away from any potential danger

superman!mingyu who thinks he's just so good at hiding his identity, thinking that you don't notice the way he looks a bit disheveled when showing up to work or the way he even wore his glasses upside down one time... but you're very observant, more than he thinks

superman!mingyu who finally gathers the courage to ask you out on a real date, suggesting a quiet dinner at a restaurant he knows you like. he's determined to spend the evening with you as mingyu, but he feels the urge to just tell you everything because he trusts you that much, yet he can't get himself to

superman!mingyu who finds himself stuck in a bit of an argument with you one night at the daily planet as stress had been piling up on you on top of his odd behaviour recently, which you also bring up out of frustration

superman!mingyu who freezes when you claim him to be superman, your words hanging in the air as the two of you stand together at the balcony near the top of the building. even with his continuous denials, the determination in your features is hard to challenge

superman!mingyu who suddenly feels a jolt of panic as he watches you climb onto the railing, your hands gripping the cold metal as you look back at him with a mix of defiance and trust

superman!mingyu who watches in horror as you let go of the railing and lean backward, your body tipping over the edge in slow motion, his heart catching in his throat as he sees you disappear from view

superman!mingyu who wastes no time, his glasses falling to the ground as he rushes to the edge and leaps off after you. his arms wrap around your waist when he finally catches up to you, pulling you close as he slows his descent to the ground

superman!mingyu who can't help but stare at you in pure panic and worry once you reach down the ground, looking over your face for any signs of injury or discomfort. his face softens when he doesn't though

superman!mingyu who tells you please never scare him like that again, and kisses you in that moment, hands trembling as he cups your face gently, silently vowing to protect you for as long as he could <3

[felicity-worthington]

Why is “Doctor Odyssey” a television show that very cleverly shows the depth of the human condition?

So, I have seen some people say that Doctor Odyssey is fun (especially because of Ody3) but also just a superficial show with no plot and I have to politely disagree. I think this show is the opposite, it's just supposed to look silly and superficial at first glance, as you can see when they repeat the phrase "we constructed a paradise" in the weekly recaps.

It is supposed to look like that, it is the idea of a cruise itself, for a week you escape the real world, you enter a new constructed one, which is supposed to be paradise without problems. But here's the thing, here is why there's a doctor and two nurses on this ship: it's just an idea, it's not real.

We especially see this in the episodes "I Always Cry at Weddings" and "Quackers" and of course in the main storyline of Max, Tristan and Avery navigating their relationship and their constant struggle with what they really want in life.

Let's start with "I always cry at weddings" to deconstruct the idea of superficiality with the weekly funny themes and the show only being silly because it's quite obvious here I think. I mean, a man commits suicide in this episode because he's deeply conflicted about what he really wants out of life and how he thinks there is an incurable darkness within him. And we see him, his bride and his best man as an example of how this construction, this idea of heteronormative happiness is just that for a lot of people: just an idea that doesn't guarantee you happiness, but actually destroys lives (not everyone's, of course). And we start this episode superficially, with a couple about to get married on a cruise, the perfect wedding in perfect paradise. But as the episode progresses, we see the cracks and then it gets very real. The scenes with the groom breaking down in the infirmary, the bride talking to Avery and Max after the suicide and her mother's confession are all absolute tearjerkers in the best way. I mean, watch that scene and then tell me again that this show is just a silly Riverdale for adults:

This is actually one of my favorite scenes of the show because the delivery of the line "we need to help this boy" is just perfect, the actress did an amazing job. Also, the character herself says "she pretended her fears away", which underlines the show's idea that this is a paradise where people should just forget their worries, but actually real life catches up with you no matter where you are, you cannot hide from it.

The other example I was thinking of is the latest episode with the Quackers community, which is super silly in a lot of ways and I love that, don't get me wrong.

And then you have this older couple, the leaders (?) of this community, who seem extremely superficial and silly, I mean, going on cruises to go on a quack treasure hunt? So silly. BUT then the cracks start to show again as one of them, the husband (I don't know what his name was, so I'll just call him the husband and her the wife), shows a serious condition, the compulsive urge to swallow objects. When confronted, the wife literally denies it, unable to face the ugly truth. In her world everything is perfect, she and her husband are on a never-ending treasure hunt on paradise cruises, and when something real, something problematic threatens that, she can't accept it at first. And we see that again later in the episode when she refuses to leave the ship:

She wants to stay in paradise, in denial, on the surface. But that's not possible, you can't ignore real life:

But this is her and her husband's dream, an endless paradise in search of ducks, and it's hard to let go and take a deeper look at life and accept that floating through life is a nice idea and might work for a while, but it can't go on forever:

regarding her husbands condition:

Once again the theme of what we want (superficial) and what is really going on (what is behind the construction of paradise) is mentioned.

All of this, and all of the recurring themes I mentioned, are also at play with the three main characters and their constant struggle with what they really want out of life. In a way, their calling to help people is fulfilled by their professions, but then they keep asking themselves, "Is this enough? Is this what I really want out of life, taking one cruise after another?

The theme of constructed ideas versus what is actually going on is also seen in their throuple situation. Max and Tristan have probably always seen themselves as straight, and now they are getting a deeper look at who they are and what they really want out of life. And that is scary, and it often takes years to deconstruct habits and self-image.

But there is no unnecessary weird teenage drama in this show, it is very real. It is supposed to look superficial, you only have to look a little closer to see that it is not.

So once you deconstruct the idea that this is all superficial, you will see that yes, it is silly, so is life and we need those silly and funny moments in life and in this show, but it is also very, very deeply human in many tragic but also good ways.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Multiverse Police (pt.3)

JL very soon finds out there's no reasoning or controlling this particular brand of crazy. Amity, as they like to call themselves - 'Because saying Interdimensional Law Enforcement every time is long and ILE is boring', Dani explains to them - do whatever they want and deem necessary, and no one can stop them.

They have bargained with the US government to let their whole town stay for a week in Illinois like one would ask to stay in a hotel room. They have all but swiped all the tech shops in the nearby area, and somehow, they had real, actual money to pay for it, despite not even originating from this dimension. They claimed it was due to the Ghost - or God, the opinions were mixed - of Time making it work. They visited a bunch of people. Heroes, that was.

One memorable visit was one they paid to Flashes. Vlad, the mayor of Amity Park and unofficial leader of ILE, and Tucker, a kid with an insane knowledge on all and every kind of tech, performed a whole lecture to Flash family as well as their friends and colleagues, on importance of safety while time-traveling, the best ways to fix the timelines and even on upgrades to their costumes.

The other important visit was the one they paid to Diana, although that one was not so climactic - Jazz just gave her a bunch of letters and a card with a summoning sigil on it. 'It's for Pandora, she enjoys having a cup of tea with Themyskirians,' the redhead claimed.

Now, it was Batman's turn, it seems.

Danny was standing - more like floating - in front of Red Hood. They were at the Watchtower since Batman did not like Amity coming to Gotham. In his opinion, that would be just calling for trouble, and both Valerie - head of ILE security - and the records of other Batmans said he was not wrong.

"Yeah, this one's fucked up," Danny says after almost three minutes of looking straight at Hood, and the man huffs:

"Thanks, I got that part," he throws back, but Danny just laughs softly.

"No, sorry, I didn't mean it as you personally. Just, like, compared to the other Red Hoods I've met. At least you're not fucked up beyond reason, I can still help you," the ghost boy says cheerfully and claps his hands, "Ready to get rid of the boiling rage in your veins?"

And, before either Hood or Batman can say anything, he reaches his hands inside Jason, and the man tenses up, holding his breath. Batman hovers close - he's read about the same kind of procedure being performed by Danny on other versions of Jason in the files, but reading about it and witnessing it is two entirely different things.

Danny's hands start turning green. The same thing he did with the portal before happens again: glowing, Lazarus green flows up his hands, like veins outside his skin. Only this time, it's not as bright as the portal was. It's murky and dull.

A few seconds later, Danny slowly takes his hands out of Red Hood's chest, and Bruce is really glad he was standing so close because Jason all but falls down to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Batman holds him by the shoulder, keeping him up, but Danny shakes his head:

"No, he better sit down. He's probably gonna feel lightheaded for a few minutes. Oh, and catch," he throws something to Batman, which he catches on reflex. It's a weird, jello-like substance of dark, dirty green color, almost like a stress ball.

"What is it?" He asks, and Danny grins:

"A souvenir. That's his Pit Rage," he nods to Red Hood.

"My what?!" Jason snaps his head to the ball in Batman's hands.

"The parts that made it actual Rage. Think, like, an infection, or a parasite, or just- You know what, it's what you get when some crazy asshole bathes you in ghost sewers," Danny shrugs, completely disregarding the face expressions Batman and Red Hood are giving him. "Speaking of which, do you wanna come with us when we get rid of those Lazarus Pits of yours?"

There's a bit of silence, before Red Hood breathes out:

"Hell, yes."

-------------------------

I'll be writing another part with Amity getting rid of Ra's and Lazarus Pits, yeah. In the meantime, Sam is looking for Constantine to give him a slap on the hand because all the John Constantine's pieces of soul were like a massive jigsaw puzzle to her, considering there's more than one John Constantine and all of them can't stop selling their fucking souls even for a minute and Sam is so done.

Tucker and Tim are nerding out in WE with no sleep or food, Damian gets to play with Cujo, Kon is discussing clones' trials and tribulations with Dani, Jazz is giving Supes a long overdue lecture on how to treat clones, Dan is looking for someone to fight - so far he's found Captain Marvel but he knows he is just a kid so instead of actual fighting they are playing Mario Cart - Val is having fun with Arrows because sharp shooters gotta stick together, and Vlad had abandoned all of his responsibilities and is hiding in Lex Luthor's penthouse, discussing cat breeds and how annoying heroes can be.

Paulina made her way into Gotham without anyone noticing and befriended Harley and Sirens, so Batman may or may not find a particular clown dead when he comes back to his city. Dash is actually not up for trouble, so he is on duty in Amity Park, doing tours for all the curious people who got interested in ghost town and decided to visit. GIW agents are in the process of locating all the Pits, Maddie is elbow deep in a scientific discussion with Martian Manhunter, Jack is upgrading the Amity Ship with all the new tech he's got, and Cyborg is keeping watch on him.

Did I forget anyone? I most likely did.

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