#also him being 12 is the only excuse for him being Like This I'm so sorry

[autumnoakes]

was watching the covid season of grey's anatomy all afternoon today and it was REALLY good with like the emotional and physical toll it took on the workers, how they all seem so tired and defeated, how often they break down in tears out of fear of their loved ones and the pain of being isolated from them, etc.

but then i stopped before they could kill off the character who spent a lot of time in manic depression last season and was actually shown to be in a better mental state right before he was killed in the middle of being a healthcare worker in a global pandemic

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][childhood friends][semi-public][cowgirl][oral (f! receiving][female orgasm][reunited][he's got anxiety][romantic][raw][fingering][implied facial][suggested creampie, if that's even a tag]

Jason's not the type of man to get giddy.

Not by a longshot.

In fact, he's not even the type of man to look in the direction of a woman, just because he knows that he'd need to find a girl who's big backed enough to carry his emotional baggage and he's not ready to burden someone with that.

Clearing away his thoughts, Jason takes a step into the one part of Gotham he wouldn't deem as a total shitshow.

The public library.

Walls are strewn with red paper hearts on string, tablecloths are changed to heart prints and there's a gigantic, glittery Cupid cutout right above the librarian's desk. And with each breeze, it dangles and Jason can't hide the amusement in his eyes when the flying baby spins, arrow in his direction. And he scoffs under his breath.

Before moving towards the front desk and he feels the way his breath stutters in his chest at the sight of you.

"Where's Beatrice? Old, short lady, curlers, mole with the hair?" He's damn near frantic. He's not prepared for this.

Pretty hair framing your face, a bright red bow in your hair and sparkling eyes that stare up at him, and your pretty, pouty lips curl at the corners.

"Oh, she's out for a few months. She got her hip surgery, so I'm her temporary replacement." You give him the sweetest smile, staring at him from beneath long, luxurious lashes that could almost rival Bruce's and Jason swallows, nodding his head.

"I—uh— I'm...— excuse me."

Jason leaves through the same door he came in, muscular hands braced on his hips and he lets out laboured breaths. If someone were to accuse him of being a blushing mess, he wouldn't even be able to deny it, instead, only being able to empty his Glock.

Because no one accuses the Red Hood of feeling feelings.

Carding muscular fingers through his hair, Jason tries to hype himself up, trying to give a pep talk that doesn't involve internal screaming and a potential panic attack.

He doesn't understand why HIS Selina Kyle needs to be working at the library he frequents. It seems like a sick joke.

Especially because you probably don't even remember him. Because not only was he like, 10, but he was also, masked whenever you two came across each other.

Quite literally, his first everything.

First solo save.

First crush.

First Valentine.

First kiss.

First fantasy.

First boner.

Jason steps back into the library, his boots heavy on the carpeted floorboards and he steps to the front desk, his chest puffed and a purpose in his voice.

"I'm Jason." He introduces. "I read to the kids on Wednesdays and Fridays."

He watches you glance towards the clipboard in front of you, glossy lips pursed before you nod your head, giving him that exact smile that used to be painted on the forefront of his brain for majority of his adolescence.

"Yeah, Beatrice told me about you." Your head tilts, and you give him that sweet, lovely leer you've always had.

"You're 'tall fella'." And you introduce yourself, before handing him the pen to sign in. A pretty fountain pen, patterned with hearts and he signs the notepad, adding the exact time as well. 12:13pm.

Jason passes into the library, immediately met with the excited squeals of kids no higher than his hip, and he glances at the multiple tables, colourful chairs occupied by excitement incarnate.

"Okay, okay." Jason hums, before sitting on his seat. A bright red wingback, although, the back of it is covered in snowy lace, undoubtedly for the occasion and he places his hands on his knees.

"What books are on today's list?"

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

Jason's halfway through his 9th 'happily ever after' before he glances towards the doorway, your form leaning against the doorframe as you listen intently. Although your attention isn't as much on him, as it is on the children scattered in front of him, wide-eyed stares as though they've never heard the fairy tales before.

The softest and most gentle smile remains planted on your lips, cheeks rosy and brows relaxed, and your arms are crossed over your chest. Before you glance towards him.

Overing him an even sweeter smile.

And Jason stumbles over his words, before his lips purse, and he feels the way his ears burn with embarassment.

"Oooooh, he's shy." A tiny voice calls out and is immediately followed by a flurry of 'ooh's.

And they're right. He is shy.

But he also cannot empty his Glock.

And Jason glances towards you, or at least attempts to, because right above your head, there's another fucking Cupid pointing an arrow at him. And his fist clenches in annoyance at the convenience of the smirking infant, ruddy cheeks and tiny wings that, speaking aerodynamically, should definitely not be able to lift that chubby body higher than a foot or two.

Jason lets out a deep, controlled breath before lowering his gaze to meet yours, pretty doe eyes stare at him with the intensity of a thousand suns and his compression shirt seems a bit too stuffy right now. But he doesn't tear his gaze away.

At least not immediately, because once your pretty lashes flutter when you blink, he looks away. To the complete opposite direction of you.

"You've been reading for a while, so I wanted to ask if you want a juice box?" You offer him sweetly and God, he feels like a pervert because he wants your juice box.

Your sweet, tantalizing and snug juice box.

"Please." He damn near breathes out the word, and you nod your head, carrying in a tray with multiple juice boxes, as well as snacks. Sliced fruit in labelled bowls, incase something isn't immediately identifiable, chips, raisins, cookies.

And Jason looks at the juice box you place in his hand.

Pineapple.

He doesn't know if he's being paranoid, but it's a bit on the nose, but he slides the straw into the hole, unable to hide the snicker that tumbles from his lips at the sight.

And you let out a snort. "Perv."

God.

You even laugh the same.

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

When the library empties out, you're left all alone with Jason, golden light streams into the library, although, it's dimmed by the frosted glass windows, and Jason clears his throat.

"Shouldn't you be heading home?" He questions you softly, absentmindedly picking up books that have been scattered across the tables and he sets them back into their places on the shelves. The actions so practiced and familiar, that it leads you to believe he's reading to these kids for far longer than you originally thought.

"I still need to update the system as to which books were taken, so, that'll take a bit." You respond with a sweet hum, clearing out the bowls and empty juice boxes from the tables and wiping them down.

You're methodical.

He likes that.

You've always been methodical. When it came to putting bandaids on his scuffed and knobby knees, when it came to speedily mending his cape before Bruce could find out.

Although looking back on it, Bruce could probably tell.

The lime green thread wasn't too difficult to spot against the shade of his cape, but he just never mentioned it.

"You don't have Valentine's Day plans?" You question him this time, glancing at Jason over your shoulder as you begin to take down the bulk of the worst of the decorations. Mainly the Cupid's. And the origami flowers that dangle from the corners of the room and he shakes his head.

"Not a big fan of Valentine's Day."

"You've never had a good Valentine's Day?" You hum softly, pausing your motions to stare at Jason while he continues to reorganize the shelves, and you get the honour of watching the muscles of his back flex and move with every motion.

"I had like, one." He hums softly. "When I was younger."

"You wanna have another one?"

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

There's something so stupidly romantic about the way the two of you are seated next to each other, a packet of chocolate chip cookies between and conversation flowing like water from a river.

And Jason doesn't know if it's the way the flame of the scented candle reflects in your iris, or if it's the way you thumb away the crumbs from the corner of his mouth or if it's even the way you compliment the colour of his eyes.

But he leans in, impulsive and stupid, but he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours in a sweet peck.

And you stare up at him, eyes wide and brows raised in surprise before a smile spreads across your face. Wide and dimpled, before you place a manicured hand on the side of his face, leaning in and you whisper so softly, just before your lips meet his.

"If it isn't the Boy Wonder."

Jason wastes no time in pulling you into his lap, your thighs pressed against his waist as your hands cradle his face so sweetly, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones as his hands find your waist. Warm, rough palms pressed against the skin of your waist and he pulls you closer.

He doesn't need to say he missed you. He doesn't need to say that you were the only person he wanted to see after the Lazarus pit.

Jason pulls away, pressing soft, sweet kisses along the curve of your jaw, lingering on your erratic pulse and your nails scratch at his scalp, carding through thick, wavy locks. Your head tips back, trying to give him the maximum amount of access to the sensitive flesh as your hips roll needily.

And your lips part to let out a shaky breath, lashes flutter and you whine softly, glossy lips letting out sweet moans that fill his ears, just like that sweet, lingering perfume on your skin fills his nose.

It's all too much.

Too much and not enough.

The way you grind against the bulge in his pants does nothing to sate that burning feeling in the pit of his belly, but the way your thighs press against his waist, as if you're trying to pull him closer.

That.

That does it for him.

It feels like a fucking dream when you hop up on the table, thighs parted and he watches the way your slick forces your pretty panties clinging to your cunt. Outlining the pretty folds and puffy lips, and he groans under his breath, his head moving to rest against the plush flesh of your thigh.

"You're so perfect." He breathes out. "Can I?"

Jason asks you softly, even as his fingers hook around the soaked gusset of your panties, pulling it to the side and clingy gossamers of your slick snap against his fingertips. And he whines when you lift your skirt better, thighs moving to rest on his broad shoulders and his face is nestled between your thighs.

Jason's tongue drags through your slippery folds, wet muscle gathering the stickiness of your slick before he groans at the taste, lunging the glob at the hood of your clit, before he circles the sensitive nub with mastered precision.

He feels the way your pillowy thighs press against his blazing ears, sweet sounds slipping past your lips as your nails scratch at his scalp, fingers massaging his head as your hips lift to meet the curls and flicks of his tongue.

Meaty hands paw at your thighs, and Jason pulls away occasionally, just to press sloppy, wet kisses against your skin, glancing up at you through his lashes as you push his hair out of your face. Right at that snowy tuft, and all the way to the nape of his neck, and Jason could fucking paint the inside of his pants when your nails dig into the flesh of his neck, pulling his face back to your cunt.

"You taste so fucking good..."

One of your hands support your weight on the surface of the table, your head tipped back and hickeys littered across the expanse of your neck and your eyes are half-lidded, moans falling from your lips with the kind of ease that only comes with unbridled and unfiltered lust.

But Jason knows it's not lust.

And if he didn't know it before, he definitely knows it when you pull him away from your cunt, his chin and lips glistening with slick and you lean down, pressing a sweet yet sloppy kiss against his lips.

Before you usher him back below your skirt.

And he sucks at your needy clit, feeling the way your hips buck and twitch, slick coating his lips, his tongue as well as his chin. And thick fingers dig into the fat of your thighs as he laps at whatever trickles from your sloppy hole.

And Jason brings up a hand, pushing your thigh further from his ear, before sliding two fingers into your drooling cunt, feeling the way you spasm around his digits, your belly caving inward and you whine.

"You're so tight..." Jason breathes out, tongue flicking against your overstimulated clit, just as his fingers curl against that spongy spot that makes your eyes flutter shut. "And you're so warm..."

You whine, your body breaking out in goosebumps and you can barely give a warning before you're coming on Jason's fingers, feeling the way he keeps sucking on your clit, coaxing a damn near screaming orgasm from you and your thighs wrap around his head.

And only when you let him up, does he let out panting breaths, before slumping back in his seat, carding his fingers through his hair. And he looks up to you with hazy green eyes.

And you barely wait before you're fiddling with his belt buckle, trying to unzip his charcoal coloured cargo pants, and he lets out a hoarse laugh, before helping you undo the loop and he shifts, just enough to pull his cock out.

And it's so pretty.

Long, thick, beads of precum trickling down that pretty upward curve and pooling just above his cock, flushed red tip weeping and twitching.

And you swallow.

Wrapping a hand around the base of him, and you give Jason a few slow, tentative pumps, watching the way deep breaths escape his lips.

"Ride me." Jason sighs, a soft whimper leaving him. "Please ride me."

Jason whines when your hips meet his, his cock nestled so firmly in your gooey walls, your cunt pulsing around his cock, your arms wrapping around his neck and your face tucked in the crook of his shoulder.

And his hands bracket your hips, fingers kneading the fatty globes of your ass, as his hips tilt upwards, rotund tip pressing against your cervix so sweetly. And he groans, pressing the sweetest kiss against your temple.

And he whines when your hips roll against his.

The air is thick with tension, the scent of cinnamon from that candle that's still casts a pretty gold glow and the smell of his cologne.

Earthy, smoky and so, so intoxicating that it makes your eyes roll back in your head, your nails digging into the back of his neck.

Your hips roll, the plumpness of your ass meeting his thighs in rhythmic movements and Jason's pretty sure the Lazarus pit was bullshit and he's actually dead right now.

Because you're so fucking heavenly.

The sluttiest squelchy sounds ring out from your pretty cunt, and you keep slobbering around his cock, as he bullies your insides so eagerly. Each of his hips move to meet your sloppy movements and Jason's hands massage at your hips.

He savours the way you feel in his hands.

The last time he had you on his lap was exactly 12 days before he died. You had placed the sweetest kiss on his lips, giving him the prettiest little doe eyed gaze.

And you're doing the exact same fucking thing right now.

Bleary eyes staring up at Jason, your lips parting to let out the prettiest, sluttiest little sounds while he fucks up into you. Each ridge and each vein drags against your sloppy walls, and watching the way your brows knit into the cutest little frown.

You look so pretty.

"So fucking pretty..." Jason whines, his face buried in your neck as he moves your hips, harder, faster, meaner but so, so sweetly.

"Shit, can I come inside?" He begs softly. "Please, please, please."

He begs so prettily, his blunt nails leaving indentations in the fat of your ass, his face hidden and you can only murmur a weak 'uh-huh' as you pummels into you so...

Meanly.

Hips snapping vigorously while he keeps cooing, kissing your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist so tightly, he might break one of your ribs. His muscles bulge underneath his already tight shirt, his brows bunch and his hips still.

Jason edges himself just a bit, before whispering.

"No..."

He needs to fulfill his fantasy. He owes it to himself.

"I wanna come on your face."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@jasontoddswhitestreak 🌸

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@allycat4458 🪻

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

@theamazkngskye 🍄

@titchx0 🦆

[sturniqlo]

PRETTY GIRL- MATT STURN

summary: where matt slides into singer!y/ns dms not knowing she would respond back, and it leads into something more.

cw: cursing, FLUFF; sweet messages, first meeting, honeymoon stage, kissing, ANGST(very little); second thoughts on relationship(?), past relationship issues, insecurity of not being good enough, social media hate

an: i just love fics where reader is a famous singer :) | very fast paced timeline | as usual, not proofread

masterlist | join my taglist

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

"said you're not in my time zone, but you wanna be."- bed chem, s.c

-

-

matthew.sturniolo 12:47am

hi, you're like really pretty :)

Matt exits out of the dm and scrolls on tiktok for the remainder of the night. He shuts off his phone completely forgetting about the message he had sent to Y/n. There was no way she would respond. Y/n was a famous singer with millions of more followers than him. He had been following her for sometime now, as he had discovered a song- many songs- he really likes from her. Matt also saw his big of a fan Nick was, which introduced him to his favorite songs.

Y/n was currently in New York finding some inspiration from her upcoming album. Usually she resides in LA but she loves being in New York while she writes. It's more homey to her, it was fall after all, her favorite season, the leaves were turning orange and falling off of their branches, landing on sidewalks all over the city, the weather was chillier, she loved it. Back in LA it was many degrees hotter, she couldn't wear her cute cardigans without sweating.

The next morning, Matt woke up to a loud commotion coming from the kitchen which was very close to his room. Groggily he came out of his room and saw his brothers arguing. "I hid the last bagel for a reason because I was going to fucking eat it this morning." Nick angrily crumples up the empty bag the bagel was in. "How was I supposed to know?" Chris argues back, taking a bite of the bagel.

"Do you guys mind? I was sleeping peacefully and I got woken up to you two arguing over a fucking bagel." Matt scoffs. He goes back into his room and shuts the door. He rolls his eyes and walks over to his bed where his phone is laying. As it turns on, he sees a instagram notification. Unlocking it with his face id, he sees Y/n replied to his message. "Holy-" He cuts himself off.

y/n/y/l/n 2:47pm

thank you! you're cute yourself ;)

sorry for the late response it was 3 am when you dmed me haha!

Matt stared at the message opened message with his mouth slightly open. you're cute yourself? He was about to faint. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard thinking about what he was going to say next.

matthew.sturniolo 11:49am

holy shit you actually responded... also thank you :))

sounds like you're three hours ahead of me??

y/n/y/l/n 2:50pm

hahaha

i believe so. i'm currently in new york, i'm assuming you're in the west coast? la possibly?

She responded quickly and Matt's heartbeat only got quicker.

Y/n had spent her morning bright and early. She woke up at around seven am and did her morning which consisted of her morning shower, skincare routine. She ate a bowl of strawberries and blueberries while she answered some emails. About an hour after sending emails and responding to important messages she went out for breakfast.

At her favorite cafe, she ordered her usual bagel and iced coffee and sat down by the window. She ate her breakfast and stared out the window watching people walk by going about their morning. A few fans spotted her as she was leaving so she took some pictures with them. "Excuse me, Y/n?" A soft shy voice said as she exited the bagel shop. She looked back and saw two teenage girls nervously smiling.

"Hey, guys!" She gasped, letting her wired headphones hang. "Hi, we- we uh. Sorry I'm so nervous." Y/n smiled. "Don't be nervous. I promise you it's okay." She giggled and walked closed to them. "Okay, thank you." The one girl sighed in relief. The three of them made a ten minute long conversation. "We're so sorry for taking your time!" One of them gasps realizing how long they've been talking for. "Don't worry about it, it's okay."

Y/n returned to her apartment at around twelve and cleaned up a bit. She'd been in New York for about two weeks now. She took a quick shower and chilled on her phone for a bit. Here and there she liked to go through her instagram dms and respond to some fans. As she was scrolling through, she saw that Matt has dmed her. Y/n has known about the triplets for sometime now, she has watched a couple of their youtube video. And to be honest, Matt had caught her eye those couple of times.

She blushed, she opened the dm and read the message fully. It was sent about eleven hours ago. She responded anyways and she was bold enough to send a second message. Exiting out quickly and scrolled and responded back to some fans who just wanted to say hi or wanted some advice.

Two minutes later, a notification from Matt appeared at the top of her screen. She smiled and opened it right away responding quickly, Matt responded seconds later.

matthew.sturniolo

i am

also, new york? i bet it's beautiful out there now that it's fall time

y/n/y/l/n

it's really is! have you ever been out here?

matthew.sturniolo

yeah, a couple of times actually!

are you there permanently?

y/n/y/l/n

nope, just here to get some writing done :))

matthew.sturniolo

new music im assuming?

y/n/y/l/n

can't say tooo much but yess

Over the few weeks, the two messaged each other everyday and eventually exchanged numbers. As much as Matt wanted to tell his brothers. He wanted to keep his 'relationship' with her hidden for a while and be in this little bubble. Matt really enjoyed messaging her and talking with her on the phone that he asked her if she would be up to the idea of talking romantically and see where it would lead them to. Obviously she said yes.

Y/n had never felt like this, Matt was amazing to say the least and she hasn't even met him. Every morning when she would wake up, a good morning message from Matt would be waiting for her. He'd send her little messages throughout the day when he wasn't filming and he calls her when he knows she's about to go to bed. Yeah, she's had her boyfriends here and there but they were nothing like Matt.

Her past relationships were so public from the beginning to the end they almost felt forced. Anytime they would go out there was always a new article and new pictures about it. There were rumors, allegations, and opinions. And she never dated the best people.

matt

hi pretty girl :)

y/n

hi pretty boyyy

matt

are you busy?

y/n

for you? neverrr

matt

okay, i'm calling you now!

Before Y/n could even type out a response her phone rang in her hands with Matt's contact filling her screen. She immediately answered. "Hi Matt." She put him on speaker. "Hi, pretty lady. How's the writing going?" He asks her. "It's.. going. I can't really think of anything right now, so I'm taking a break." Y/n brings her knees up to her chest and scoots her writing book away from her.

"Anyways, what have you been up to?" She says, pressing the facetime button. He answers it right away. "Nothing much, me and my brothers just finished filming a video." He brings his face into view. "Sounds fun, what'd you guys film?" She smiles. "Just a car video talking about random things."

They talked more for some time until someone interrupted Matt's rant by barging into his room. "And then- do you not know how to knock?" He scolded whoever came in. "Who are you talking to?" She heard Nicks voice. "Don't worry about it, what do you want." Matt huffs. Y/n noticed how he tilts his phone away from Nicks view. "Can you take me to-" Matt cuts him off.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll take you. Shoo now." He motions his hand for Nick to leave so he can keep talking to Y/n. A small giggle leaves Y/n and Matt looks at her through the phone and she gasps. Nick must've heard her because he also gasps. "Matt! Are you talking to a girl?" His phone is suddenly snatched from his grip.

Nick looks at the screen and Y/n is with wide eyes and a slight open mouth due to her being shocked of what's happening. Y/n knew that Matt wanted to keep this to himself, as well as her. "Oh.. my god." Nick said and quickly gave the phone back to Matt when he saw who it was. Y/n heard Matt's door close and started laughing, so did Matt. "Holy fuck."

"I'm going to let you go, I need to deal with Nick. I'll call you later." He smiled and waved at her. "Okay, let me know how it goes." She waved back.

"Nick?" Matt walks out of his room. "You, as in Matthew Sturniolo, my triplet brother, are talking to the Y/n. As in the famous singer. Fucking Grammy award winning Y/n!" Nick yelled with his eyes wide open. Y/n was probably- no, is- Nicks favorite artist. He couldn't belive it. "Yes, Nick. Is that so hard to believe?" Matt giggles. "Motherfucker yes! How did you of all people bag her?!" "I'm offended?" Matt furrowed his eyebrows.

Matt goes to tell Nick how everything had happened. "Oh my god, I can't believe this!" Nick yelled into his hands. "What's going on?" Chris comes up his set of stairs. "You'll never believe it!" Nick says. Matt- actually Nick- catches Chris up with everything he missed. "Matt, I've never realized how much game you have."

After everyone - Nick- calmed down, they decided to sit and watch a show.

y/n

i'm assuming everything went well?

matt

yes, nick had a moment of starstruckness i guess, but it went well in general

y/n

omgg, he is so me

will he be okay with me following him?"

matt

pls do, i would kill to see his reaction

y/n

okok

Y/n giggled as she went to her instagram and searched up Nicks username and followed him. Across the country, Matt was secretly recording Nick who was unintentionally scrolling on instagram. "No fucking way! She- she just followed me." Nick flipped his phone to Matt. "She just followed me too!" Chris jumped up from his spot on the couch.

matt

*video attachment*

chris was a plus

y/n

hahaha

one month later

"Alright, we have this shirt with these jeans or," Y/n holds up a potential outfit and shows Matt over facetime. "Ok, I like that one." He nods. "There's also this dress." She holds up the material. "That's the one. I like that one." Matt points and she giggles. "Okay." She leaves the frame and comes back in once she's changed into her outfit.

"It's four over in LA right? I still get a bit confused over timezones." She says as she applies her eyeliner. "Yeah, and it's seven for you, correct?" Matt watches intently as she does he makeup. "Mhm, I have to leave in like forty minutes." Tonight she was going to an album release party for her friend, Conan.

"I would love to be in your timezone. Makes it easier to talk to you." Y/n smiles at an idea that popped up in her head. "Would you -I don't know- maybe want to fly out here? I- you don't have to, but it's just an idea." She rambles a bit. "I'd love to actually. But, I'd have to talk to my brothers first, not that I need their approval or anything, just I'm not sure if they'd want to come." He says.

"You could bring them too. It'd be fun either way." She says. As much as Matt loves traveling with his brothers, he'd appreciate it if this trip was just about the two of them. It's be their first meeting after all. "I hope this plans out well, I really want to meet you, officially."

"I'm tryin' to go to New York." Matt blurts out randomly. He had finished his call with Y/n about two hours ago and all he thought about was possibly getting to meet Y/n and spend sometime with her. "Matt flying across the country for a girl? Who would've thought." Chris says. "Shut up." Matt rolls his eyes. "Do you guys want to go? Or?" He says.

Both Nick and Chris looks at each other and shake their head. As much as Nick wanted to go and possibly meet Y/n, he wanted Matt to have his moment. "Nah, we'll let you enjoy your time with her." Nick says and Matt dramatically sighs in relief. "Thank god! I didn't want to take you guys anyways." Nick gasped. "You know what, i'm second thought." Matt shook his head. "Nope, you made up your mind."

matt

guess who's going to new york :D

y/n

no wayy?!? i'm so excited!!!

liked by sabrinacarpenter, clairo, matthew.sturniolo, jennaortega, nicolassturniolo and 825,733 others

y/n/y/l/n: i am new york, new york is me

view all 9,372 comments

jennaortega: y/n in new york>>>

| y/n/y/l/n: you get it 🙂‍↕️

y/nfan57: it's y/n's season

y/nfan19: matt liked...

| loser4: okay? so did nick?

sadiesink_: you're so cool

matthew.sturniolo: you

| y/n/y/l/n: me

two weeks later

"I'm by the taxi pickup." Y/n said on the phone to Matt who was somewhere inside the airport. "Is there a sign or something?" Matt was having a hard time looking for the right place. "Uhm... oh yeah, there's a bright green sign that says taxi only. It's pretty big so you can't really miss it." She let out a breathy laugh. "I see it, and I see you." Y/n turned, but still couldn't see him. "Other way, pretty girl." She turned the opposite way and saw him.

"Matt!" She squealed, and ran to him as he dragged his suitcase behind with a huge smile on his face. "Y/n!" He let go of his suitcase and she jumped in his arms. "Oh my god! I can't believe you're actually here!" She whispered into his neck. "I can't believe it either." He says and she pulls away from his neck at looks at him. "You're even prettier in person." She blushes. "Stop it! I could say the same thing about you." She places her feet back on the ground. "How was your flight?" She asks. "It was good, except for the guy snoring next to me."

They arrived at Matt's hotel, and he settled in before going out for lunch together. "Okay, my favorite spot to get lunch is here." She says and Matt opens the door for her. "Thank you, Matt." Matt smiles. For the three- almost four hours they've been together, it all felt natural, as if they've known each other for years.

"What do you usually get?" He puts his arm around her shoulders and she smiles at the action. "I usually get the chicken wrap and a mango lemonade." She looks up at him. "I'll get the same." He nods and kisses her forehead. See, natural.

"What do you think?" Y/n covers her mouth as she speaks through a mouthful of her wrap. "It's very good, you weren't lying." Matt says as he goes in for another bite.

For the rest of the day, they walked around the city hand in hand, Matt pointing out at certain billboards in time square.

Later that night, they returned to Matt's hotel where Y/n said goodnight and went home. But, not without a kiss. A first kiss. "I hope you had fun today." She says as she walks towards the door. "Trust me I did. Thank you for today." He says, following behind her. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Matt." Y/n smiles. "For sure." He unhesitatingly grabs her jaw and plants his lips on hers with a gentle kiss.

The room was soon filled with the soft smacking sounds of their lips intertwining with each others. Soon enough her arms ended up wrapped around his neck, with her back against the door and Matt's arms holding her hips. A couple of moments later, they both pulled back gasping for air. "Wow, I- mmph!" Matt was cut off by Y/n putting her lips back on his.

"Okay, I should- I should go now." Y/n pulls away and giggles. Both of them out of breath and their lips red and swollen. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow."

The next day, the two of them went out for breakfast and were especially giddy the whole day, sharing kisses, holding hands and small touches. "So, this one is- Matt?" Y/n stops herself. "Yeah, yup. Mhm." He says. "You weren't paying attention were you?" He breaks out in a laugh and shakes his head. "Sorry, but you're just really fucking pretty." Her cheeks redden up by the compliment.

"Matt!" He grabs her chin and kisses her. "Okay, I'll listen this time, for real."

It was now eight pm and Matt's hand was wrapped around her shoulders as usual. As they walked in a comfortable silence, Y/n heard a series of whispers behind them. Her first reaction was to look back, and as she did she saw a flash of a phone.

"Oh my god." Y/n mutters under her breath. "C'mon Matt, let's go." She grabs onto his arm and leads him to the opposite way of the stranger. Matt had noticed the person taking the picture as he also turned his head a little bit after Y/n did and saw how her mood had changed.

"Hey, you okay? You've been pretty quiet." Y/n stands in front of Matt once they've entered her apartment, moving bits of his hair that covers his eyes. "Mhm." He hums. "Matt, you can talk to me. Is it what happened with the person who took the picture?" Matt looked away from her. She had gotten it right. "Matt," She sighs, pouting slightly. "I- are you having second thoughts about this? I just- I don't know." He says. "Hey, no, of course not! It's just- I really like this little bubble we're in right now, with no unwanted opinions." She pauses before continuing on.

"And I know I shouldn't care about what people say about us or anything, but it gets to me sometimes. With my past relationships I feel like the media got involved so much that it ruined them, and- and I don't want that to happen with us. I really like you" She interlocks their hands together. "I really like you too." He gives her a soft smile before pulling her in for a kiss. "Are you okay now? Did I clear something's up." He nods. "Yes, thank you for letting me know. I really appreciate it."

Y/n was right, the internet does have a lot of opinions. After Matt had left Y/n's apartment, even though she had told him to stay, Matt did it nightly call to his brothers before going to bed. When he had woken up in the morning, he went on social media and saw tiktok about the picture and another picture that they didn't know of and and there were many negative comments about his and Y/n's relationship. Specifically about him.

y/nsoulmate: broo... how is she going to go from dating a famous singer/actor to a youtuber💀

soulmatey/n: she should get someone better

ilivefory/n: dare i say it, but she downgraded

slutniolo: why is he dating her? isn't she on her tenth relationship?

y/nismygf: y/n, matt, if you're seeing this just know twitter is rooting and happy for you guys! tiktok police is annoying!!!!!

y/nismommy: he isn't it for her 🤷

prettyy/n: he could never treat her like danny did.. oop

ang3ly/n: y/n, baby, leave b4 u can, he's just going to use u🥴

everythingy/n: not a youtuber

y/nsgirl: why is everyone being so negative? this isn't your guys' relationship to judge or comment on. get a job, get a life!

Although the last comment made him chuckles a bit, the other comments hurt him. Were they right? Yeah, he wasn't on her level of famousness, but was it such a big deal? His phone suddenly rang in his hold as he was too deep in his thoughts. It was a call from Nick. He answered. "Good morning sunshine!" Nick said. "Why are you up so early? Isn't it six am over there?" Matt says. "I haven't slept actually. It's kind of worrying me." Nick laughed as he got comfy on his bed.

"I saw the pictures. How're you guys feeling about it?" Great, something he didn't want to think about right now. "I don't know? She wasn't the happiest when she caught that one person taking a picture, but she gave me her reasons and it was understandable. I didn't realize it at first, but she was totally right. The internet can be harsh, holy shit." Nick furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?" Matt sighed and got up to sit against his headboard.

"I saw a video and the comments were a bunch of people saying that she shouldn't be with me because i'm not on her level of success, I guess, and that she also downgraded. I mean, what if they're right? What if I'm not good enough for her?" Nick felt bad, he hated that the internet was making Matt have second thoughts about his developing relationship. "Don't listen to them Matt, they're just a bunch of losers. And, you are more than enough for her. I was called her earlier today, yesterday I guess, and she was so excited to tell me what she had planned for you two. She's in deep and so are you, I can see it. There's no way you can back out now." Nick reassured him.

As Matt got ready, he thought of what Nick had said. She's in deep and so are you, I can see it. There's no way you can back out now. He was right, he is in deep. Matt knew Y/n was going back to LA a week after he was. They'd have all the time in the world to hang out. However, he wanted to be hers.

He was going to ask her today.

"Hi, pretty girl." He kissed forehead once she let him in. "Hi, how was your morning." She closed and locked the door behind him. "It was good, how about yours." They walked into her bedroom so she could continue getting ready for the day. "I had an early morning." She sighs. "I had a last minute meeting, luckily it was short and over zoom." She wraps her arms around Matt. "Hi." Y/n whispers. "Hi." He giggles and she leans up to kiss him.

"Okay- shit!" Matt stumbles a bit to the side with the bike. It was a couple of hours later and Y/n and Matt decided to rent bikes and bike around the city for a bit before heading to their planned picnic Y/n really liked to go to. "Why is it so heavy?" He says, trying to put the bike up straight. "They're so heavy for no reason, the amount of times I've fallen to the side with it is ridiculous." She starts to peddle slowly, waiting for Matt to catch up. A folded blanket is held by the basket that is on the bike.

"Are you sure you can ride the bike and carry the picnic basket at the same time?" She asks him. "I'm sure, just can't go too fast or I'll bust my shit." They rode around for thirty minutes sight seeing before heading to the park. "This looks like a nice spot." Matt pointed out an empty spot near a tree. "Okay, I'll lay out the blanket." Y/n unfolded the blanket and carefully placed it down on the grass.

"So, you're going to be in LA a week after I go back, right?" Matt says as he sips on his water bottle Y/n had packed. "Mhm, the twenty fifth. We'll finally be in the same place permanently. I'd love to hangout more with you." She smiles at him. "About that, I actually had a question for you." He caps his water and places it down next to him, moving his body to face her. "Oh, okay."

"Can I be yours, pretty girl? Officially yours." She gasps lightly and breaks into a huge smile. "You were always mine, pretty boy."

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Good things are hard to come by in the desert, but surprisingly, not drugs. Alliances are forged over questionable motivations. A real romance takes root. 

[Part one]  [Ao3]  [10] [12]

11 * Sucker Punch [9k]

"My, my, my what a position:

The love of my life smokin' crack in the kitchen,

Lovely long nails and a nasty half grin:

"It's a livin'," she shrugs."

Some Kind Of Disaster Relief - The Taxpayers

        "Hey." You turn on your side away from the noise. "Hey." Louder. "Goddamn it," your cot was jostled under your form, "wake up shithead." 

        You peel open an eye to find Tracksuit leaned over the bed. The sun pierced through the porthole. Everyone else had gone searching, leaving him on babysitting duty. His life had been threatened approximately five times that very morning and hearing you hiss, "What?" Made you particularly unlikable in the moment.

        He stopped jostling the bed. Considered leaving you to get fucked but remembered- this was like being a producer. Nudge things the right way and the desired outcome should occur. His was mild entertainment and not the group eating itself alive so he said, "They sent me after you two last night." 

        Now you were sitting upright, bug eyed. "What-"

        "I heard you two mashing pissers-" 

        "Excuse me?" You shot out of bed, standing unsteadily.

        "-And I turned around and told 'em you were yelling at Omni Boy or whatever. I covered for you asses for like, twenty minutes. Do you know how many times I had to stop those guys from going after you? Too many. Almost beat the shit outta me and there I go thinking' you'll be smart and not super obvious. You come back, go right to sleep like you just got hit with the best dick of your life- like are you kidding?" His hands tangle in his hair. "Oooh, you're so lucky we're not full blooded dude. They would'a been able to smell that."

        "We didn't-"

        "I know fuckin' when I hear it, toots, don't even." His hand came to your face to shut you up, pressing to your lips, other arm securing you in place, "What I'm sayin' is, if they say shit to you about it at the fire tonight, you were laying into him but not laying him, ya hear? Cuz they ain't stupid, they know somethin' went down between you two and if I get caught lying- I'm fucked cuz I don't want those stupid assholes fighting and collapsing the caves- you know our only fucking source of water so sue me-" He stops himself from going on a tangent while you're effectively muted. 

        Your eyes narrow. Hands come to his wrist to peel his hand off your mouth to tell him to die. He holds firm, but not enough to hurt. 

        "Relax! I'm not a snitch and I don't fuckin' care. I just wanted to warn you that the next time you go romping around- be fuckin' careful, dude. If any of those guys went instead of me? They would'a intervened- we wouldn't be runnin' outta jerky, ya kno' what I mean. Nod if you get it." You nod. "Okay, alright, cool, I'm gonna take my hand away now and you're not gonna freak your shit on me."

        His palm, calloused and slightly sweaty unlatches from your cheeks. The arm that held your waist in place fell away. You step back. Your head swivels left, right. Double-checking you were alone. "You heard us?" 

        Under the mask his brows peak. "I'm shocked nobody else did, dude. You were like," his voice pitches, hands go to his knocking knees and chest puffing perversely, "Uhhhhnggg, fuck me Markus."

        "Shut up." He went ridged, quiet. Looks like your powers had returned for the day. You weren't foolish enough to make him hurt himself. He'd get back up and do you worse. Being found alone with his neck snapped on the cave floor also wasn't a good plan.

        He broke free about ten second later, shaking himself off like your control was slime on his skin. "Eugh, that feels like ass."

        "Don't make me do it again." You stand, stretch, feel your back crack. Find your dried underclothes neatly folded on Omni's side of the cot.        

        Tracksuit follows your gaze. "He's also not hiding it, awesome. I'd say it was nice knowing you assholes but- it hasn't really been."

        You pick up the clothes. "This doesn't mean anything."

        "That he folds your clothes like some house husband? I couldn't imagine doing that even for some bitch who gave my the messiest sloppy of my life. That's like, love, dude." 

        Your stomach curdles. "It's not." You check the multiple openings in the cave walls, where anyone could be returning at any time. "Keep your voice down."

        "I'm not being anywhere loud as you." He snickers. "Marrrrkusss, unngggnhh!"

        "Shut up, turn around."

        He did. You quickly took off the top of the armor and slapped on the tank top. You were pulling off the solider pants, back to Tracksuit when the control snapped. "You gotta- whoa! Whoa! No! I don't care how nice your ass is, I'm not getting killed over mediocre pussy!"

        You leap into the shorts. "You were supposed to stay turned around." You grab the pants and boots off the ground, slipping them back on. "And please, don't flatter yourself."

        Though your ass was hidden under tighty-whiteys, he still watched it. "I mean, you flattered him, who is also me, plenty last night."

        "Want to find out how hard you can hit yourself?" You toss the empty threat.

        He caught it. "Kind of, but I don't wanna end up lookin' like Seven. Lensless, you called 'im?" He sat pressed against the wall. "Crazy son of a bitch." Out of his pocket came that pack of alien cigarettes. Nine down to six he smoked in secret so nobody would ask for a hit. He caught your eye, "You don't plan on going out today, do you? Anywhere you could go they've already mapped beyond it like, a hundred times." He pulled the curtain from his face and tucked it to his left ear. Revealing the low of his face- Mark's. "Dunno how nobody's found shit yet."

        ***

        Sand. Lots and lots and lots of sand was shoved into every unused crevice. Mushy mold and mildew that he helped the bugs propagate, just to use as wall padding. Their super hearing was nowhere near full-blooded Viltrumite level, but he couldn't risk the others finding his personal paradise to share with you.

        It'd be ready soon, if all went to plan. Just you, him, bugs, and the dark.

        ***

        You knew you were near useless in this survival situation. They were aliens, nearly God-like. You were a doll to throw around. You yearned for normal people, to play with them the way the Marks played with you. To be in some sort of control.

        You consider leaving, knowing Tracksuit would be obligated to follow. But you also consider the more you moved, the more they'd feed you of Emperor at the campfire tonight. You could barely stomach what you'd already eaten. Puking was a constant, round the corner threat.

        The blue-wrapped cigarette was placed between his lips. A blur passed over his face and it was lit, glowing green at the end. He takes a drag, relaxing fully against the stone. A pillar of smoke forced out between his teeth, light gray, and smelling of coriander. He catches you staring and holds up the side of his hand, "Don't need a lighter when ya got friction." 

        You point at the thing. "Give me a hit."

        He leaned forward, held the cigarette out to you, glowing end first. You take it in two fingers and place it into your mouth. The pale filter still damp with his spit. (You hadn't smoked in a long time / You'd never smoked) and were nervous to see how this would go. If alien tobacco would kill you or not. You don't think, feel the hold loosening, so you suck it down.

        Lemongrass and rotten laundry had a baby that shit acid down your throat- that's what it felt like. You jerked, folding forward, hacking up wispy clouds of smoke and spittle. The control breaks and the cigarette is snatched away. Your hands are propped on your knees. You could only see his boots as tears stung the corners of your eyes.

        "I'd whoop your ass for that," the cigarette is placed back where it belonged between his lips, "but you're kinda doin' that for me."

        You'd curse him if you could.

        "Dude, this shit kills like, most alien species. Didn't you look at the warning on the box?" He points at a struck-through red circle with alien looking lungs in the middle. "No baby-shit lungs can touch this shit."

        "Obviously," you hack out the syllables one by one, trying hard not to puke on your shoes, "I didn't."

        "No dip." It pissed you off how easily he breathed the acrid air in. 

        You straighten up, pounding your chest, "What's in that?"

        "Uhhhh," he flipped the box in his hand, squinting behind the lenses, "a hundred percent pure Loethicainian root. Huh, thought it was laced with something else."

        "You didn't even know what was in it before you started smoking it?" Your voice cracks. Throat feeling like an uncleaned chimney after one puff.

        "You didn't either." The box disappeared into his pocket. His palm outstretched in front of you, "Alright, now give it."

        "What?"

        "You took a hit'a my shit, I'ma take a hit'a yours." His fingers flexed, "Hand it over."

        You flinched back, hands going defensively to your pockets. "No way."

        "I could just take it, but I'm being nice and asking."

        That was true. You preferred to have some dignity, so you pulled out a bottle. "Just don't over-"

        The lid was crushed off the top, thrown aside. He knocked his head back, thumb punching a hole in the bottle bottom. Cigarette held off to the side in his spare hand. The bottle was shotgunned before you could blink.

        "-dose."

        He groaned, threw the bottle to the floor. "Tastes like shit."

        "So does that." You watch him chase the bitter cough syrup taste with a pull off the cigarette. Man had taste buds of steel.

        He shrugged, "Ya get used to it. When's it supposed to kick?" He sat himself on the closest cot. Gray's. He'd definitely notice things shifted about but Tracksuit couldn't care less.

        "Uhm, I thought you've done codeine before?" 

        "Nah, buddy Rex did, though. Guy did everything he got his hands on." He sighed, hands going behind his head, now sprawled on Gray's cot. "Miss 'im."

        You stand by the cot edge, watching him smoke. Feeling no difference beside the burning in your throat. Maybe one hit wasn't bad. "That Guardians of The Globe dickhead?"

        Tracksuit smiled around the cigarette. "He made it to The Guardians in your world? Good for him."

        You sit, pulling the last bottle of codeine out of your pants. "Should be a half hour before that kicks in. You sure you'll be fine? That's way more than most people can take. I don't feel like eating you." Though there was enough of Emperor left to last you all a week at this rate. Hell, all of him hadn't been smoked yet. Apparently without green plants to burn there was less smoke, the process took days longer. What hadn't been cooked yet started to rot. Gray set aside the first cooked, stalest, safest jerky for you to eat. You hadn't today, though you should.

        "I'm an alien." He laughs, "I'm smoking the cheapest, but deadliest smokes in the galaxy. I'll be cool." 

        You tell yourself you don't care, that you're just killing time but you still ask. "So Rex Splode." You'd never met the guy but there was news here and there. People he saved said he was a douche, reckless, almost got them killed while saving them. 

        "We slummed it together awhile." He blew smoke past your shoulder to the ceiling. "Roommates while my parents were figuring out their relationship shit. Cuz like, Dad sprung all that crazy alien-invasion shit on mom and she was like 'what the fuck?' And who would want to live with those assholes anyway? Like rabbits those two, then they'd get on my ass for bein' loud. So, Rex 'n I got ourselves this piece 'a shit place in Queens. Roaches all over the place, you should'a seen it." He talked plenty but not normally this much, not so openly. Whatever hundred percent pure Loethicainian root was chilled him the hell out.

        "I lived in New York," you crack the bottle, "I know." You knock your head back. Feel the sour syrup slide cross your tongue. Your body goes slack, like all your problems have been solved when it hits your throat. You flop onto the cot beside him. 

        "Crazy how I never met you." He says, and you can feel his eyes on you. "And everyone else but that one dude is all over you. Makes me wonder."

         You tilt the bottle forward, cut yourself off before you really wanted to. High soon to go feather-light in your dome. "If you're gonna get all misty-eyed on me I'm fucking off." 

        "'M not." He says, "Just wonder how it didn't happen." He keeps out the part he'd been wondering about lately. That maybe, if he'd had you, things wouldn't have gotten so messy. Rex wouldn't be dead. That Eve bitch wouldn't be alive with the resistance. His Dad would've never called the Viltrum Empire to Earth. Things would've been normal and he could've lived his life doing fuck-all-bullshit till he died in a million years. Dad made sure things didn't dice out that way. 

        He could hardly see how you'd change a thing. Why you and Mark Grayson seemed to be so inter-dimensionally intertwined. Was it just cuz he was biologically wired to think your ass was nice?

        "Tell me about your Rex." He said instead. 

        You did, as much as you remembered from the papers. You mostly avoided supes, bad for business if you were caught. Worse for you if they wound up being psychic and didn't listen. Tracksuit listened aptly, smoking the cigarette down to the filter. 

        The high began to wax. Your brain felt fat in your head, skull gone, cheeks like jelly, everything easy. You'd missed being high. Angsted that the only reason you were was because of Mark. Always because of Mark. 

        You're looking down at Tracksuit, elbow on knee when you say, "I really hate him, you know."

        "The other me?"

        "Yeah." You can't get over how good he looks with a septum, even though you can't see his whole face. You wonder if there are any more piercings, any scars to further differentiate him. "Yeah, that dickhead." The words spill out, stupid, slow. "Ruined my life, that..." What's the word? "Dickhead." Yeah, exactly.

        Tracksuit flicked ashes onto the ground and dusted them away. Gray would notice later anyway. He couldn't care, these details were juicy. "What'd he do?"

        "He-" You look up to the porthole. Watch sand specs idly floating in the sun. Then you are there in the sunbeam. Naked, glowing, floating.

        You fall hard next to Tracksuit. He jumps up, watching you twitch. "Shit!" He'd forgotten you'd taken a hit of his cigarette. That you probably had minutes left to live at best. "Shit! Hey!" He shakes your shoulders but your eyes, rolled back to your skull, don't fix. You are stiff, then twitching, stiff, then twitching. 

        Then you're upright like a bolt cracking your skull against his, "What?" 

        He is unaffected, head like a cinder block. "I thought you were like, seizing." 

       "Me too." You rub your pulsing forehead, the only part of your head you could feel. 

        His breathing, that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, hitched, began to even. "Scarred the piss outta me." 

        "Me too." 

        "Sure you're not still seizing or whatever?"

        Your muscles contract tight, tighter, then let go. "Think I'm just..." Your fingers find your eyes, push into the lids. Thinking slow. "I'm just stressed and that Loethicainian shit is making me tic." Better than being dead.

        "I mean yeah, you almost starved to death and now you've got like," he counts on his fingers, "seven super crazy boyfriends. No, six, and husband guy."

        "I'm not dating a guy who killed a different version of me in literally any timeline." You looked around for any broken hearted faces but find none. 

        "I don't think all of 'em did." He says.

        "A concerning amount of them have." 

        His arms go out to his sides, defensive, "We've all killed people. It's not that big a deal. You're still alive."

        "Not my Mark." You leave out the 'not on purpose' part. The Chicago disaster part. "He didn't kill people." You don't know why you feel the need to go to bat for him.

        "Good for him I guess, but he's a giant pussy."

        Your lips thin, defense came up your throat just to be swallowed because Tracksuit was right. "His girlfriend got hurt when you guys came," you start, unable to look at him and his stupid Mark face, "he wouldn't leave her. She was unconscious and probably would've told him to go help, but he wouldn't. Refused to fight you guys. I know he could've taken more of you out but he just-" You shrug, hands slapping against you thighs, "He was just a giant pussy."

        You lick at the codeine bottle edge just for the taste. You recap it before you lapse into shotgunning the whole thing and dying on the cave floor. 

        "Wow. That's insane." Tracksuit didn't care much for humanity or anyone in his life these days, but he couldn't imagine not fighting. Deciding one person was worth the effort to ignore everything else. 

        "Right?" You felt vindicated. You needed him to know, "I've killed more people on purpose than he has. He won't even kill people that he knows will bust outta prison. Just, lets 'em go and-" You laughed, shaking your head, like it was no big deal, like your sad, angry little life didn't revolve around him. Who cares about Mark when you're getting high with a different Mark? Mark would've never touched a cigarette let alone shotgun codeine just to try it.

        "He broke up with me." Words come out in a hot puke spray. Tracksuit's head snaps to you. Surprised you'd share anything about yourself with him of all people- seemed like you only shared to hurt the others' feelings. "It ruined my life."

        He's quiet a moment before saying, "Dick that good?"

        "No. I just-" Your fingers press to your eyes, head light, spinning. You knew you shouldn't tell anybody but keeping it in felt so bad. And you just wanted to feel good again, enjoy the high the same way you enjoyed Omni's fingers. Purge. "I did something for us, and it went so bad, and I just- God. He didn't want me or the baggage I came with." You felt like you were about to cry so you unscrewed the codeine for one more sip. Wouldn't kick in for awhile but you couldn't stand feeling like this. 

        "I'm not a snitch if you wanna spill." He offered. You accepted. Reluctantly at first, voice low so if anyone came back they wouldn't overhear. It was bad enough telling Mark Grayson how Mark Grayson ruined your life. It'd be worse if the Mark Grayson who murdered you and was still very much in love with you, overheard. They'd never let you live it down and you'd really end up killing them all, then you'd starve to death out here. 

        By the end, you were so high you didn't care that a few tears slipped here and there. You couldn't care much for anything at all, but at least Tracksuit was good company. 

        "That's majorly fucked up." He'd said when you finished. Among much more colorful commentary during your story. Calling you stupid for being head over heels for the first guy you fucked. For not finishing school. For falling for him of all people. "But, hey, we ever get back to that shithole? I'll help you whoop his pussy ass." It was the good nurtured chiding old friends did, that kind strangers do when they get high together. You knew it didn't mean anything, and you would never get to go home, but you smiled.

        "I'll introduce you to Rex." You say because you don't know Rex is dead. Tracksuit doesn't either. The thought is nice, as it is impossible.

        "How's that high treating you?" You ask.

        "Got nothin'." Tracksuit fidgets with his pocket, thinks of pulling out another cigarette but decides against it. "Pretty sure most Earth shit won't do anythin' to me so what's the harm in tryin'? You?"

        "I think." You don't think, lost a moment as your body tensed and untensed, "Whatever you gave me isn't agreeing with me but it's okay." What wasn't okay was how bored you were. Always sitting around or walking or eating dead guy meat. Lame. 

        You want to play, be entertained. You pull out your phone and try to find some meaningless game. Tracksuit leaned over your shoulder, watching you click through apps, a smile on his face.

        "You got any tunes downloaded on that thing?"

        You did, and he helped you pull them up. He had no clue what any of the words were. Who was singing. But that was okay. You lay together on Gray's cot, letting the music bounce off the ceiling and trash down onto your bodies. You were almost asleep when an angel came down, a shadow in the sunbeam.

        "I thought I heard something." You lifted your heavy head. 

        Baldie stood over the cot. Hairless brow raised at the scene. Fabric scraps in hand.

        "It's not what it looks like." Tracksuit raised his hands in mock defense. On high alert but not looking like it. "We're just hanging out, man."

        "Uh, I can tell?" He would've been suspect if any other variant had been laying with you. Not Tracksuit. He was stupid and inconsequential, but friendly enough. 

        You sat up to talk but stop. The light frames his muscle thick form like a halo's hug. Mark's expression on his face but not Mark's face, not with all the scars. He is him but so other and so beautiful like this and the music is so nice and you are absolutely fucking blasted.

        Your body tenses again. "Are you okay?" Baldie asks.

        You stand up shakily, body swaying slightly.

         "Hey, are you alright?" His hands go to the sides of your arms to steady you but you aren't seizing, you're dancing. Terribly. You're not happy, just high, and having recently cum. You're relaxed. Listening to music you intend to enjoy because fuck the misery. 

        "No." You say, "But dancing is better than just laying there while the universe dies." 

        "Hey!" Tracksuit said from the comfort of his back. 

        Baldie pauses. "You're... dancing?" He was unsure. Partly thought the movement a mild seizure. 

        "Guess I am."

        He's taken back. Four years ago, days before the fight with Dad. He had no idea what was coming. He could feel the anxiety coming off Mom in waves, it made him edgy. But he got to your apartment, floated out the window and found you dancing with a hungry dog you'd found in the street six months ago. Skin and bones now muscle and smooth fur. You held its front paws, going back and forth in little steps while the dog's tail wagged. The other rescues crowded around your ankles. 

        He landed next to you with a smile. Problems off in the wind. You traded paws for his hands and you dance together slow in the studio apartment kitchenette to the same music you played now. 

        He smiles, nostalgic for a past you didn't know, and takes your limp hand. Opens it gently with the press of a thumb. You let it happen, staring stupidly as his marred hand slipped into yours. He pulls you in, hand set at the small of your back. Then leads you to insanely unfitting music in a waltz he could barely remember the bones of. It was more like spinning in circles while holding your bodies together but you couldn't tell. You were high and in a sun beam and he was smiling at you and the music was so nice. 

        Tracksuit watches. Thinking good for you, get some more dick. And then thinking, Jesus I'm gonna have to run interference for this horny bitch till we all die out here.

        You're across the room now. Stepping on Baldie's feet because you're so high you can't coordinate your movements well. He thinks you're still half asleep and teases you. You laugh at something Baldie says, it's quick and you immediately try to hide the joy, but Baldie hears it and glows. Because for once, the laugh wasn't a nasty sound, but genuine.

        "Hey." Maskless is knelt beside Tracksuit's head, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. "Walk with me a sec."

        "Uh? Sure." He sat up.

        Maskless led him out of the cave, into the desert sun and miles away while you danced on. He landed in a skid, turning hot on Tracksuit when he came down.

        "You need to back off." He says.

        Tracksuit paused his landing trot, "What?"

        "Those guys ruined their lives for the chance to see her again. Don't get any stupid ideas that'll cost you." His finger found home in Tracksuit's chest. Honestly, Maskless didn't give two shits who you liked and didn't. He cared about keeping the peace. He cared about how he'd feel if he had William here and some douche who didn't know him was drooling to get in his pants. It was one thing for the other guys to want their ex, a whole insult for him not to even know you in his world. He wouldn't take sides, wouldn't tattle, but he'd watch and make sure Tracksuit's tracksuit stayed on for the good of the camp.

        "Whoa! You've got the wrong idea." He says it, but it's not entirely true. Tracksuit had been starting to appreciate your appearance a tad more these last few days. You were a whole helluva lot nicer when you were high and not starving to death. You were also probably a decent fuck and he really needed to cum, but that wasn't here nor there. "We're on the same side here. I'm not gonna do nothin' stupid just cuz she's hot, man."

        That was as earnest as Tracksuit got, but to Maskless it sounded like fuck boy bullshit. "You're going to get yourself and her killed if you keep acting all buddy-buddy. You can't lay on the same cot as her and ogle, they're not stupid."

        "Dude, were you watching us? That's super fuckin' creepy!" 

        Maskless's jaw hardened. "I wouldn't be surprised if another one of us was watching too. You weren't subtle. I didn't watch for very long, but it was long enough to see you staring at her ass."

        Tracksuit wasn't an unreasonable man, but a shortsighted one. A man who thought fists would tell the truth. "Then that's long enough to see I didn't tap it!" A fist was aimed straight for Maskless's chin. Sent him into the air. He spun, stopped the spiral a hundred feet up, face hard. Absolutely sure Tracksuit had a thing for you and absolutely sure he needed to kick common sense right up his ass. 

        ***

        The music died with your phone. After days of being used for flashlight navigation, it was bound to die. But did it really have to die at the best part of the song? You could mope but you didn't. Sleepily happy as Baldie guided you round and round. 

        Phantom watched from the dark. He'd picked up heat signatures from Maskless's body on the outskirts of the cave minutes ago. Knew he'd likely interfere somehow, Maskless wasn't stupid. He knew any blooming romances were a danger. Maskless should've broken you and Baldie up but instead he took Tracksuit outside. Allowed this to continue.        

        Phantom tells himself it's fine. You are happy. With someone else who is him, but not him. 

        He tries telling himself Baldie is a temporary creature of comfort. Like Omni clearly had been to you last night. None of this meant a thing.

        ***

        "Hey." Behind him. Lensless turned. Lost again a few minutes into exploring these stupid caves. Maskless had drawn him a mini map but Lensless was never one for directionality. 

        Scars was there, cloaked in the dark. Wearing that same old smile. 

        "Hi?" Lensless was perfectly friendly back, but his body was tense. Come on, a lone meeting in the dark was a prime murder locale. He'd done it himself enough times to know. 

        "I think we can help each other get what we want." Scars didn't have to say it was about (Y/n). He was just as obsessed with you, the new you, as Lensless was. That was why he'd gotten so lost in the first place, he just couldn't stop thinking about you using your powers on him. 

        Lensless was the perfect partner for the job. Slower than Scars in every aspect. Feared and discomforting in your eyes. And he wanted you to use your powers just as much as Scars did.

        ***

        You were floating on a euphoric cloud because you were dancing with Mark Grayson (and peaking on a codeine high). He smiles down at you, holding you. Dancing with you like he did when he came to your place after homecoming. You had been on the stoop crying with the night sky overhead, trying to keep the tears off your thrifted outfit. He'd missed the whole thing and you were majorly pissed, but he danced with you right there on the apartment stoop in his wrinkled suit. Apologies whispered into your ear, compliments as his hands ran over the clothes you'd picked for him.

        His excuse was terrible, pissed you off more, but you ended up forgiving him. You always ended up forgiving him. He was your first serious boyfriend, how could you not? You took him inside. Things escalated. You didn't feel different the next morning, though you told yourself they did. That being each other's firsts meant you'd be together forever.

        And now, five years down the line, you were in the same man's arms, but not really. Having just spilled your guts to also the same guy because the other guys who were also the same guy couldn't be trusted with that information. You were too high to think about it. That's what you liked about being high. Not forgetting things, but not quite being smart enough to remember.

        You don't know what does it. The sun shining through his black lenses, letting you see a sliver of eye through the material. Soft, drooped with scarring but looking at you so sweetly. Or was it the gentle touch you hadn't felt in so long? Calming and grounding, but not wanting, content with the moment. His lips, twisted as they were with old wounds, smiling for you, of all the rotten people in the world- for you.

        You kiss him without thought. Standing on your toes to get the angle right. His lips are opened, a question on the tongue that is soon forgotten. When he kisses back it's tentative, hesitant. Close mouthed and chaste. He wouldn't let himself taste too much of you. He knows he'll go mad if he doses on too much of your sweet belladonna. But you smile, kiss him again, and he can't resist pulling you closer.          

        Four years since he'd kissed you. The last one a quick goodbye peck, excited for a date the next day. He never got to see you again. Not the you he knew. You were warped and scarred compared to her, a mirror held up to himself. You were and weren't her. You understood him. 

        He let himself be poisoned with a kiss. Lips parting to let in your tongue.

        ***

        Hearing you tell Tracksuit about your Mark stung. Phantom wished you could've confined in him, but he understood. He wasn't a big talker. You needed someone to bounce off of. He could do that. He just preferred it to be just you and him when he did so. But no opportunities shone through, someone was always around. Listening and watching.

        But that was a bee sting compared to the gutting that was you kissing that marred thing with his name. It was a good thing, he told himself as he watched, you were still attracted to Mark Grayson as a concept. That's all this was, a proof of concept. But you just kept going and going and going. Kissing and kissing after obviously fucking Omni last night. Stabbing him in the heart as many times as you pleased. Did you even know how this made him feel?

        Fine. It was fine, really. He had to think as he took deep breaths through his nose. 

        It was fine because Baldie couldn't be in the caves longer than a few hours without growing agitated. He kept saying he heard things but Phantom's enhanced suit didn't catch them. Baldie was cracking up. Baldie was clearly your favorite and had to go. Which was fine, because Phantom knew just where to put him.

        ***

        He pulled away, flushed. "I'm sorry." He said, though he doesn't let you go. "Is this okay?"

        You'd had a taste for blood. Were in for more, voice low and wanting "More than okay."        

        He leans back in and stops himself. He knew you were acting strange from the get go, but let himself ignore it because you seemed happy and that's all he wanted. He saw it now, your constricted pupils, they way you relied on him to hold your weight. He had thought you were finally trusting him but he was wrong. "Are you-?"

        "High?" You finish for him. "A little." It's a lie.

        He feels the kiss was a lie. Illegitimate. He wanted you plenty but not out of your head. He wanted you steady and sure. Something to even out the roaring between his ears. His touch fell away. Your body followed after him but he avoids your advance.

        "I shouldn't." He knows but seeing you chase after him, eyes searching and lips parted, made him want you more. Which means he really, really shouldn't. "I'm sorry I didn't notice I-" 

        His teeth clack together when the fists come down on the back of his head. Body hammered feet down into the rock. You don't get to see it, already hundreds of feet above the porthole. Held by the middle where your body went slack against the arms caging you in. The pressing g-force ceased. You were far above the horizon. Above where anyone could hear you scream.

        You can see his legs, coated black, going into blue boots. Feel his body pressed to your back, grip tight around your middle. Fingerless gloved hands raking across the bare skin between your tank top and pants.

        "Hey," Lensless says against your ear.

        "Lan-" His hand didn't just press to your lips, no, he forced his fingers into your mouth. Dusty skin lathed across your tongue, forced to the back of your throat where you gagged, much to his enjoyment.

        "Much as I want you to, we're not doing that. Not yet." 

        He uses his hand in your mouth to puppeteer your neck. Makes you watch the fight below as it erupts into the desert. Baldie is pissed, but smart enough to know anymore underground thrashing could collapse the cave system- kill you all without access to water. 

        Scars is a yellowjacket blaze under the afternoon sun. Back for a surprise round two with the added stressor of you being held hostage in the sky. Baldie's distracted, keeps trying to pull from Scars to get to you and Lensless, but that's what Scars had been betting on. What they'd both been betting on. 

        Lensless doesn't let you go as he drops like an anvil directly into Baldie's flight path. His heels crack something in Baldie's back while Scars fist nearly punches a hole in his belly. When the impact is done, Baldie falls to the sand. Shirt torn, bruises already blooming under his skin. Blood pooling out the side of his mouth where some of his teeth had been knocked loose. 

        You screamed against Lensless's hand. Thrash in his hold as he climbs higher in the sky. Followed by Scars sporting a fully busted lens and a purple shiner. They matched in eyelessness, cruelty, and how much you wanted to kill them. 

        Lensless propped his head on your shoulder, observing your fit hopefully. "Are you gonna cry?"

        Scars laughs but says, "Your little boyfriend will be fine." That gets your attention on him. So full of hatred and intent to kill. Just like his (Y/n) before it drained out between his legs. He doesn't know if things will end the same and that's why he's here with Lensless. To change you, make you stronger by sheer force. "Just couldn't have him interrupting. He wouldn't get it."

        You bite Lensless's fingers hard as your jaw would allow, a growl vibrating through your body.

        "So weak," Lensless says but he's shivering in delight at the attempt. "But you should quit while you're ahead. If I get too excited, I think I'll crush you." He laughs at the idea. You wet and red and all over him, makes his cock twitch.

        Much as you hate listening, you do. "Good job." Lensless bumps the top of his head against your jaw. "I knew you'd listen." 

        "Don't praise her." Scars victorious smile melts as he stares you down. "You've been bad."

        You'd ask him what he meant if you weren't murderous and gagged.

        "You don't seem to get it. Those other guys, they're weak, useless. Couldn't take a bomb to the head like I can. They don't deserve you." He hovers closer, reaches between him and Lensless and holds up your chin. Fingers pressing hard to flesh. 

        Lensless pulls you back, out of his grip. A gesture that says 'it's not your turn with my toy, yet.' "Hey bud, you forget I'm also one of those guys?"

        Annoyance flashed across Scars exposed eye. "You're smart enough to work with me." He leaves it at that, no promises of trust or friendship. Lensless grip tightens, makes your bones ache, but he doesn't pull you back when Scars reaches out. Thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "But you. You've been letting them pass you around. I get it, you're sad, you're lonely, you're looking to fill the void. And you can do that! You're your own person. I just need you to remember at the end of the day- you belong to me. Everytime you lend your lips or cunt out them?" His pointer and thumb squeeze your lip, pinching it plump and buzzing. "I see it. I feel it. I keep a tally of everytime you let them touch you, everytime you betray me. Do you know what that tally's at?" His head tilts, waiting, though you literally can't reply.

        "Come on, answer him." Lensless jostles your rear with his knee. 

        Your hands, pressed to your sides by Lensless's arms, twitch. Scars notices, looks at them smiling. Up comes a single finger. Counting off your fuck with Omni or kiss with Baldie- he can't tell. Because it's your middle finger and he's laughing at you for daring to defy him.

        "I'll take that as an 'I don't know'." He sighs, "Everytime that number goes up, know that I'm waiting for them to leave you alone or with someone weak. And they will because they all are. So I'll find you vulnerable and alone," he leaned in, pinching your lip so hard drool started to seep onto his gloves, "and make you understand how bad I feel when you're with them. And if you're not strong enough to take it, you die." He's close enough to bite your lip. For you to feel the heat of his stale breath. Then he removes himself from your personal space all at once. Skin-crawling touch gone. 

        "Ready?" Scars asked.

        Lensless grins against your neck. "Oh hell yeah."

        The flesh gag was gone, but so was the arm around your torso. You hurdled to the dunes, softer than your human body but you'd splat like it was concrete on impact. You can only see the sky, the men falling either side of you, looking bored with terminal velocity. You snap, "Catch me!" 

        They both hurdle toward you, two sets of arms under your back. Stopping the decent slowly, not too sudden. When you're finally stopped, your heart is hammering in your chest, you're still far above the ground but no longer falling. Not safe because the men you controlled were no longer held under your will. They grin down at you. Satisfied before both sets of their arms fall away again.

        It's catch and release. They let you fall, scream a command with blood pouring out of your nose. They mock praise as they drag you back up high into the sky. By the third round, you've calmed enough to know what to do when Lensless catches you before Scars. You turn to him, grinning under the perpetual summer sun and say with a finger pointed at Scars, "Kill him."

        You are dropped because in Lensless's head, he can't kill Scars while holding you. The logic and semantics work against you. And again you fall screaming, "Catch me, catch me!" But he's too fast, too far away in the atmosphere with a fist poised for Scar's throat.

        ***

        Phantom watched the exchange. Let Baldie fall without help. Because he understood and agreed with what Lensless and Scars were doing. You did need to be stronger, needed to hold your own if you were to choose one of them. Work out that muscle of power because you'd let it go so slack in the desert. 

        He knew it'd happen sooner or later. You forcing them to attack each other, forgetting that morality and gravity don't mix. Scars tries to save you, he didn't want you to die even though he acted like it. Scars wanted you to suffer the slow creep of his corruption and not wilt, but thrive under it. Phantom understood this, didn't fault him for it. They were all creatures of some desire.

        Scars could not dodge around Lensless long enough to catch you. Your hold had been getting better once you'd started eating again. There was no telling how long Lensless would attack. Scars was ruthless, trying to kill him but just couldn't. The fact was, Lensless was the faster of the two.

        When you neared the ground, Phantom was there. Shot out of the porthole as a silent shadow, slowing you down then bringing you to a stop. Your unconscious body limp in his arms, stirring after a few seconds, as your body figured out it was still alive and not falling.

        You look up at him, shaking, nose bleeding, sun in your eyes. So beautiful, weak, alive. Your hand clinging to his chest enough to bandage the wounds you'd left him. 

        ***

        They lay beside one another in the sand. Skin burst open by sheer force. Sun beating down on their bodies.

        "You get it now, asshole?" Tracksuit tried not to sound winded, but he was. That gay little fucker could move.

        There was no reply. Tracksuit heaved up onto his elbows, thinking the other dead and more jerky was on the way.

        A few of his ribs were bruised but he breathed on. "You could've just talked to me instead of hitting me." Maskless said. 

        "I tried that, 'member?" Tracksuit flopped back into the sand.

        "Yeah, well, you're not very good with words." Maskless said with no bite.

        Tracksuit slapped him across the chest, earning a groan. "Nah, but I'm pretty good with a fist."

        Maskless smacked the hand away. "Don't flatter yourself." He sat up, sand falling off his shoulders. Insides pounding. "We should get back. If the others see them together, they'll lose it."

        Tracksuit ran a hand through his hair. All the gel he'd slopped through it before coming to your Earth gone clumpy and stale. "I just don't get it, man. Why can't they leave her alone? They're pushing her away by being freaks."

        "Because we're us." Maskless stood, "We can't leave these things alone. You wanted something bad enough to make a deal with Angstrom Levy, so you're no different from the rest of us."

        Tracksuit chuffed because the guy had a point. "I can. She's just some human." 

        "Would you be saying that if she was Rex Sloan?" 

        That name from that mouth made Tracksuit go stiff. "You creepy little fucker."

        "I know if she were William, I'd be acting just as crazy." Out came Maskless's hand, offered with no smile. "If not more than some of them are."

        Tracksuit considers slapping the offer away but takes the hand, pulling himself up off an aching tailbone. "I ain't you know, man."

        "I know," Maskless says, though he doesn't believe it. He and Rex had a thing years back before it all went bad. There was bound to be another one of him who had the hots for that idiot. Still, he tacked on, "I see how you look at her, I get the picture." 

        "No, no, I mean I don't..." Tracksuit let go of his hand soon as possible. 

        Maskless held himself with a seriousness he didn't feel. He told himself the same thing a long, long time ago. "You'll figure it out." He hovered above the sand, "We going or what?"

        ***

        The fireside is chaos. 

        You are drained dry of power and want to kill despite how your body is shaking from the adrenaline and codeine come down. Baldie wants them dead more than you do. Omni more than he. Omni held you when he heard, hand cradling your head as you tried not to lean into it. You were almost glad for the distraction Scars and Lensless brought to the group, because he was being obvious, and if someone asked you were sure he wouldn't deny it.

        Tracksuit watched on, achy all over. Back to treating your personal drama like his TV after a long day. Maskless nearby considers swiping one of Tracksuit's cigarettes. Sneaking out and smoking while this fizzled out, but he had to stay. Make sure if the peace snapped that the cave didn't collapse.

        Scars and Lensless revel in the jeering and suggestions of exile from Gray. The threats of death from Omni. Regrettably, they lived through your control. Scars suit was frayed, cape torn at all the edges but he was fine. Lensless's chest was exposed, skin gone purple with bruising. 

        After Phantom caught you, the two had played it relatively smart. Avoiding camp until nightfall, where Baldie told everyone what they'd done while licking his wounds. Only when he was proclaiming his hate for the yellowjacket and his minion did they make an entrance. Leading to the current hellscape of things.

        Despite all the talk, it was Mohawk who was the first to lunge for Scars, waiting for the fight with open arms. Phantom jumped between them, just barely able to keep them off each other.

        "Stop." He says.

        "He could've fucking killed her." Spit flies off Mohawk's lip onto his mask. 

        "Please, she was fine. Aren't you, sweet thing?" The second Scars eyes land on you, Mohawk reaches around Phantom and cracks Scars in the temple. Scars cackles as he hits the ground. "You'll thank me for it later." Mohawk lunges.

        Phantom grabs his ankle and throws Mohawk across the room. "Listen to me."

        Listen, Mohawk does not. He flies for Scars. "I'm tired of your face!"

        "We have the same face!"

        The screech tears through the room. Bounces off the walls. Reverberates through your bones. Mohawk's flight waivers, he crashes in a heap, clutching his ears. The rest of them are in similar positions, groaning, hands on head. 

        Phantom does not apologize, he is not sorry. "I was hoping you wouldn't make me use this." He says cool through the modulator. During the second day of the ravaging of Earth he'd caught out one of the re-animen. Taken the speaker from its chest, a tiny thing that he hid in the pockets of his utility belt. Down to the core, he wanted to curl into a ball and scream, but the noise-canceling tech in his suit's ears helped curb the urge. It also helped that he knew it was coming, that he controlled the noise.

        "Turn it off!" Mohawk snaps. 

        "Not until you listen." He says, louder, more confident than he'd felt in his entire life. Mohawk does not protest again. "You can exile them, kill them even, but it will not fix the problem. We all want her to ourselves, but we can't fracture into factions, We'll just end up killing each other and her. The best thing for her, for all of us, is to work together."

        "Fuck that." Mohawk spat, the only one able to speak over the noise.

        "You don't have to like it, but if you don't want her to die in the crossfire, you'll do it." Phantom is right. Feels the truth sink into the bones of everyone around him. Yet he leaves the frequency playing, "You don't want her to die again, do you?"

        Mohawk doesn't. None of them do. 

        He turns it off when he senses no more fight in the room. He waits for Mohawk to lunge at Scars. He thinks about it, Phantom can see it in his spring-loaded muscles but he doesn't. 

        Scars rises to his feet, hiding the stagger Mohawk punched into him. "We'll be back." He says it as he floats towards the exit, "Remeber, I keep a tally." His eyes are on you.

        Lensless went to follow, their partnership officially cemented, "See you guys this time tomorrow, cool?"

        They were gone. You took a shuddering breath.

        Baldie shot up to follow them. But stopped when you said, "Wait."

        "Don't you want them to die for what they did to you?" He tries to keep the anger out of his voice, the accusation he wants to level at you, at the others for letting this continue. 

        Your head was pounding. You were well into come down. Regretting and not regretting the dancing from earlier that killed your only flashlight. Regretting and not regretting the kiss. "I do, but if anyone's killing them, I am."

        Baldie shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know if you could.

        "I-" His lip twisted. How could you want those two alive even a second longer? Why? Did you favor them? Like the harassment? Is that what he should be doing instead of being soft and kind? Would you like him without drugs then? The anger chewing at his insides is surprising and sharp. 

        He shot into the caves to angst alone in the quiet, familiar enclosure of darkness. Even though he knew it'd make him worse. 

        You try to rise to your feet before falling back down wobbly. Head falling to your hands. Gray quietly brings the basin of freshly boiled water to your side for you to drink. He and Omni hover within reach but say nothing. 

        Phantom disappeared into the caves behind Baldie not long after. Nobody noticed. All so fretful over you, minds racing with options. But if they really cared, they'd be doing what he was doing. Approaching Baldie from behind.

[scribbledghost]

ive been working 12 hr shifts at my job and I'm so tired I want to start crying like a toddler who needs a nap 😭 customers are mean and my feet hurt! I just want to lay in bed and EEP.

could you write Vessel just, absolutely smothering reader. kissies and cuddles and and and brushing her hair and giving her food while she's just dead weight in his arms. I have no idea what she'd be doing in the manor to make her so exhausted but I just wanna be pampered by a six-eyed sweetheart while I lay in bed and SLEEEEP pls it would fix all my problems

(in all seriousness, your writing is lovely. inhuman Vessel has been a great comfort. thank you for him.)

Note: I'm so glad Inhuman!Vessel can bring you some comfort! I think we can all use some of that right now. Also, a huge thunderstorm rolled in right as I started this, so I'm putting that in as a backdrop of sorts bc to me there is nothing more relaxing than being taken care of while it storms outside.

Sharp flashes of light pierce the manor at irregular intervals, quickly followed by low rumbles of thunder. Rain pelts the windows of your room, wind-whipped into punishing sheets against the glass.

The world outside is hostile for now, but inside there is nothing but warmth and comfort.

You'd been working hard around the manor lately, puttering around and helping the vessels in any tasks they may have had. They would tell you each time that you did not need to concern yourself with their worshiping duties, but you insisted, and they allowed you to aid them in whatever way you wished. Of course, the vessels have a much higher level of strength and stamina than your human self, and you found yourself wearing thin much sooner than they did.

Vessel is the first to notice, literally sweeping you off of your sore feet to carry you to a nearby lounge seat despite your protests. However, it never took long for you to get back up and continue whatever tasks you had been doing, leading to the cycle repeating.

It didn't end until Vessel excused himself from the rest and carried you off to bed, once again ignoring your protests.

"You need rest, beloved," he soothed as he carried you. "I will not stand idly by and allow you to harm yourself in our name."

Once he had deposited you in bed, he'd crawled in after you, intent on keeping you there by virtue of staying with you.

And that's exactly what he'd done. The storm had rolled in shortly after, and now the two of you are curled together in the warmth and safety of Sleep's manor.

"I am grateful that you've stopped fighting me," Vessel muses as he strokes your hair. He places soft kisses against your temple, keeping you close as you relax into him.

"Too much to do," you mumble.

"That is for us to worry about, my love," he replies, "as Sleep's vessels, that is our burden to carry. Not yours."

You begin to argue again, but the incessant growling of your stomach interrupts you. Vessel chuckles at the sudden intrusion, then summons one of the others to bring you food.

Something simple, he instructs. Something I can feed her myself.

II arrives shortly after with a bowl of peeled and sliced fruit, handing it to Vessel directly. He says nothing, only giving you both a light smile before turning to leave again.

"I can feed myself, you know," you tease as he grabs a piece and brings it to your mouth.

"I am aware," he says. "Though perhaps you will allow me the indulgence of doing it for you. Just this once."

It's difficult to say no when he asks so sweetly.

You relax into him further, all but deflating and becoming dead weight in his arms as he continues to feed you and smother you with affection. In between each bite, Vessel kisses whichever part of you his lips can reach, projecting soothing affection into your mind from his own. Words aren't needed here, and Vessel dares not break the silence with them. The only sounds to be heard are the rain and thunder beyond the manor walls and your own breathing.

Once you finish eating what was brought, Vessel also gives you a container of water that had also found its way to the nightstand by the bed, likely a gift from Sleep itself. Satisfied that you are well-fed and hydrated, Vessel returns to petting your hair and placing intermittent kisses where he can.

"Sleep, my heart," he murmurs against your skin. "I will be here when you wake."

As you begin to drift, you mumble a request to him.

"Meet me in my dreams?"

You are met with an affectionate chuckle.

"Always, my love."

[ragde890]

Chainsaw Man #194 analysis

So... Chainsaw Man 194.

I can't help but think about Power with the first scene. Two chapters ago, Denji mentioned her. And now we've got a first page very reminiscent of the composition of chapter 71 —almost mirroring it.

It doesn't end there, however. I find the next page is also reliving —in this cycle Denji seems to be trapped in— the "Bat Devil Arc" (chapters 4-12).

Back then, Denji was in a very similar state to his current one. He found his life empty and meaningless and his trauma, simple thinking, lack of socialization and toxic relationship with society, sex, gender and himself led him to gaslight himself into believing that what he really needed was sex. During his whole "rescue Nyako" thing, for example, despite the fact that he obviously felt empathy towards Power and wanted to help her because he could relate to her feelings (having lost Pochita himself), he still gaslit himself into believing he was "only doing it for boobs". In fact, Denji thinking about himself as some kind of unfeeling monster or animal (or dog, as he was called by the Yakuza and Makima alike), trying to interpret anything in terms of "biological needs" is a self-destroying attitude that has persisted until now.

The only difference with that and his current way of thinking is that now he's at the very least self-conscious (although he is still unwilling to accept the times he's been a victim of SA and blames himself from it/is trying to convince himself he has/should have like it.), and the trauma is much bigger.

Then, the immediate page after this opening displays something that was already shown in the "Bat Devil Arc".

Denji, despite being hypersexual, stuck in a loop of death and violence, and in the case of these last chapters, pretending he can live "like a Devil", is not at his core a bad person. He cares about consent, he values the people around him, he doesn't wish harm.

Fujimoto feels the need to reiterate this because we've seemed Denji do fucked up shit these last chapters (eating the tree people, "enjoying" Yoru's destruction and killing spree) and we're probably gonna see even more.

In the next pages, we see that he's well-aware of how fucked up the situation is, but his casual demeanour shows that he's not really facing how *serious* the situation really is: like he doesn't want to truly face reality.

Again, we turn to the omnipresence of Fire . First in the news, that show the destruction caused by both Yoru and the Fire Devil, and then, a bit subtler, with Denji cooking Gyozas —with the paneling emphasising the fire on the stove.

The next page yet again reinforces Denji's new (old, in fact, but I'm referring to its post chapter 183 version) mindset of living like an animal/devil: caring only about "sensory pleasures" like eating, sleeping or sex.

It also makes the yuxtaposition of "everyday life" and destruction/apocalypse that's been on for the last arc even more obvious.

After that, we get to the next scene.

Some people might have not noticed, but this "One month from now" dialogue is implying a timeskip. "Two weeks" in universe ago, Barem said "Half a year", so... When was the 5 month timeskip? After Denji was captured by PS? During this chapter, after the first scene (in which case, Asa was 5 months in the backseat?)? For now, it's a mystery. 

Right after that, we've got what looks like a callback to chapter 131, with Fami using what seems like the same kind of excuse Nayuta used back then. If we believe Fami is being honest here, then she was sincere as well in that interaction with Nayuta, and we'd finally have some characterization for her. It does indeed look like she's given up: she doesn't believe she can defeat the Death Devil anymore, so she's trying to enjoy what little life she has left (maybe even in *imitation* to Nayuta).

This next interaction with Yoshida is also interesting. He looks legitimately serious here. His "I'm no fun, huh?" is not one of his usual quips: he's genuinely agreeing to Fami's comment, and accepting as his reality.

Yoshida's painfully accepting that he's never had and will never have the fun/joyful live of a normal highschooler. Death will soon come and everything he'll have experienced are his practised smiles, fake connections and isolation. He's always been an outsider, unable to form connections with his peers, having shaped himself to be a Devil Hunter first and a human second (if at all). This is the alienating world he's chosen, that has forced him to cut all sensorial and social aspects of live. Until he is, as Fami described, no fun at all.

And he suffers all of this completely alone because the mask he's created for himself doesn't allow others to see the pain. He's shaped himself as a "necessary evil", a tool to serve PS, his whole existance defined by his job. He's one of the only main characters that take the treath of the Death Devil completely seriously. He wants the world to be saved, at the expense of his own life, because he wants to do the right thing (that's when he does "evil" things in order to "save the world", he still feels bad about it, like when he had to imprison Denji). But in order to do that, he has to sacrifice himself and his individuality. He believes live is about sacrifices, that wanting more than the choices you're given is selfish, that normalcy is about fitting in the box that's been constructed for you. A completely selfless, "lawful" ideology that goes completely against Denji's.

Yoshida craves human connection, but he can't get it at all, so he buries this need in books, tv and parasocial relations. Even when he tried having an actual connection with Denji, it didn't work at all. He's so painfully lonely and feels that's how it'll be forever. If anything, he acts as a perfect foil for Denji: both craving for actual human connections, and both adopting completely opposite but equally toxic mindsets to cope with the fact they can't get them. Both being forced into being used as tools, objects, but never people.

Then we get to the last scene. After a page of Yoru and Devil "hanging out" as devils, Asa finally takes control of her body again.

It's quite sad that even here, Denji still can't tell the difference of when it's Asa and when it's Yoru. That he still sees them as one big entity is very fucked up.

About Asa's situation right now, I don't know what'll happen. Her situation is as bad and traumatic as Denji's right now. Let's not forget that she's also been a victim of Yoru's SA (it was her body, after all), and she feels responsible for it. Not only that, but she's been forced to see how Denji completely disregards her to happily hang out with her abuser.

Furthermore, her entire motivation has "just" (depending on the precise location of the timeskip) been torn apart. All the stuff about "beating chainsaw man to save Denji" that Fami told her was pure lies, with Yoshida and Yumiko admitting that they want the War Devil to turn CSM into a weapon. She had convinced herself that saving Denji was her responsibility, her purpose, and now she's found out that she's just been used, and the situation just keeps worsening. What does she have left now?

For the record, I don't think she'll attack Denji next chapter. But it'll be as easy as talking it out either. This next arc will most surely be a tough one, as we're getting progressively closer to Part 2's climax.

[alexiethymia]

MaoMao's Way of Affection

[spoilers up until LN 12 and WN 10 so read at your own risk]

After such a long time, we finally get a hint of reciprocation when even without orders or prompting, it's MaoMao herself who seeks out Jinshi after the harrowing ordeal she went through.

I'm not sure how the WN will differ from the LN but her words with how she describes Jinshi's arms around her, "heavy but not immoveable" and Jinshi asking her to make him let her go and eventually opting not such that she ends up falling asleep in his arms actually perfectly describes their relationship.

Despite their problems, I do adore this relationship. On the one hand, you have Jinshi who ends up falling for someone who cares not a whit for his appearance. MaoMao is actually the perfect person for Jinshi to fall in love with because of his complex. Should he succeed, he can be assured that his looks had nothing to do with it. For the first time in his life, Jinshi can fight for something with his own above average, but not excellent capabilities.

And tropey as it is, I think MaoMao does have a soft spot for that slightly pathetic part of Jinshi. Honestly, to compare him to the person she respects most in the whole world? A daddy's girl through and through. In other words, MaoMao, even as she denies it, is not impenetrable to that earnest side of Jinshi and because of that, even as she might snark and say she's just following orders, she can't help but be his support - a useful tool rather than a useless burden.

I love how the both of them mature and progress and how the relationship reflects that. As compared to that forceful scene back in LN5, it's actually this innocent scene that cements the progress they've made and that they're slowly meeting each other halfway. Jinshi tries to restrain himself, and MaoMao, thanks to Chue, slowly stops trying to hide behind that convenient excuse.

Because the thing is, MaoMao is a hypocrite. In the same way, she rebukes Jinshi for not being clear, she also gets to hide behind vague half-truths. Why not say no once and for all? "I don't want to be your wife." Is it just because he's the Imperial Brother? Compare and contrast how she treats Grand Marshall Kan for example. And even if he is the Imperial Brother, MaoMao knows in her heart of hearts that Jinshi wouldn't ever punish her for rejecting him. She knows, after everything, that he just isn't that kind of person (the certainty that he wouldn't ever be involved in any assassination plots, the almost unconscious instinct to prevent something she knows Jinshi wouldn't want even if it might be for the good of the country or for her own safety as long as she plays dumb). I really do love how like Suiren, MaoMao is his ally. (No wonder mother-in-law Suiren approves.)

Isn't it more painful - for Jinshi - and more troublesome - for her - to continue to have this hanging between them? But MaoMao is only human. There are things she knows would be the best course of action as long as she operated solely on rationality, but unexpectedly, Jinshi - despite not knowing it - brings out that irrational part of her. She knows it would have been in her best interest (if her best interest truly was to escape the marriage) to just let Jinshi continue being vague, to not put a name to his intentions, she later realizes that this is Jinshi's own consideration for her, but her true emotions push forth. She knows it - what Jinshi feels for her, compares it to a lovestruck patron, so what gain does she get from hearing it verbalized out loud?

She struggles with his special consideration for her, the proof of deeper feelings, in his words and actions. I think she would be able to justify it in her mind and accept being his wife if she knew it was only because she was a useful tool. Because if so, then she could also justify it to herself that she was staying with him only because he was useful, that it was solely on the basis of reciprocity.

I mean the reality of the world they live in is that it's not a place to cultivate love. Marriages are political more often than not. Within MaoMao's way of looking at things, a marriage of convenience might have been more palatable. For Jinshi's part, I can see him being ready to accept that even if MaoMao does accept his proposal, she would marry him while not being in love with him. On the flip side, I think part of his strong motivation to break away from the Imperial family would be to remove, without a doubt, from MaoMao's mind that she would be punished for rejecting him since he would no longer have that power. In other words, part of Jinshi is ready for MaoMao to reject him but he wants it to be solely her choice. In other words, he would also want her to give it to him straight just like she demanded he do for her.

Speaking of special consideration, it is hard to say whether MaoMao's actions towards Jinshi are those she would do for any other patient (since she's actually softer than she gives herself credit for), but the things she does without orders are telling - like stroking his hair while putting him to sleep, kissing his cheek, ingesting something she knows she's allergic to without his knowledge for a plan to sniff out his enemies (pity this didn't make it to the LN), getting mad that his accomplishments were getting stolen from him despite him not caring about it, and glaringly - attempting to break a taboo the person she respects most in the world imposed on her, just so she can better take care of Jinshi. For all that MaoMao is comfortable in her place in the world and doesn't want to venture out of her comfort zone, calling it too troublesome, she does exceed a lot of her limits - true because of that unexpectedly strong sense of duty - but also because of or for Jinshi.

MaoMao acknowledges to herself at this point that no other person besides Jinshi can give her the same comfort. She does want to have a child someday, if only for the experience of giving birth. It may not be a burning passion, this may not be enough for her to call it love, but I can also see a scenario where she accepts Jinshi because he's the only one she would be comfortable with so that she can give birth. In other words, another convenient excuse. But conversely, even after succeeding in having MaoMao for a wife, I can see Jinshi still pushing because for once in his life he can fight his hardest and win or fail on his own merits and no one else's, and also simply put, he loves her and so he would want her to love him back. Even if it isn't the norm in the world they live in. He'd still want to continue fighting for that elusive flower. A perfect push and pull. In other words, it's up to them how they decide to meet each other half way. And I'm excited to see what the future holds for them.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[9:12 pm]

(a/n: I fear i'm very proud of this 😏🤏)

Johnny stared with a look of poorly concealed revulsion as his date stuffed an all too large chunk of steak past their lips. The juice dripped down their chin and Johnny could only stare as the droplet traveled further and further only to be wiped away with the back of their hand.

This was the dating scene now... a person who ate like they'd never been to a fancy restaurant despite the dating profile depicting fancy vacations and various flutes of champagne with the very expensive bottles in frame. Johnny should have known better, this was all his own damn fault.

He'd been expecting a good night too, some nice drinks and good conversation. That was the only reason he'd gotten an Uber to the restaurant, he didn't want to drink and drive later. But his plan certainly wasn't happening now.

While his date was busy asking the waiter for more champagne, his fingers and eyes were working on sending an SOS text to someone, anyone.

And that person was you... your brows furrowed as you read Johnny's barely legible text that asked you to call him and make up some crazy excuse to get him out of a predicament.

You bit you lip, mulling over your options. One part of you told you that he was fine and being dramatic. Wherever he was he could call someone else and ask for help. But wasn't this also something you agreed to? Hadn't you and Johnny broken up and agreed to stay friends? This is what friends did... right? You sighed tiredly, not even bothering to change out of your comfy, worn, lounge clothes as you hopped in your car and made your way to the address Johnny had sent you.

You rolled to a stop in front of a luxe restaurant. Behind the glass windows you saw only small tables, couples at every table with small candles lit between them. Johnny must have been here on a date... he had started moving on before you did and he had called you to get him out of this? You, his ex. You didn't even know he was dating again.

A sick feeling settled in your stomach as your fingers worked on their own, calling his number.

"Hello?" you heard his voice.

"There's been some freak accident and I need your help," You stated monotonously.

"Oh no! You're outside now? Shit! Ok, I'll be right out! Look, my best friend is outside because their apartment-" you heard Johnny explain before the line cut out.

The sick feeling traveled up and out. Your hands felt shaky and a knot formed in your throat as you saw Johnny run out of the restaurant, scanning his surroundings before his eyes settled on your car.

He walked over, pulled the door open and flashed you a grateful smile as he slid into the passenger seat, "hey, thanks for the help. I've never had to do anything like that before."

You nodded in response, pulling into traffic. You didn't say anything. Should you say anything? Is this just how things are going to be now? Johnny calls you to get him out of a date, to pick him up from a hook up's place, to get him condoms, to get someone plan B and you just do it? That's your new role as his ex and now friend?

"I think we need to reevaluate how we're going to go about our... new friendship," you start quietly.

"What do you mean?" Johnny asks.

"Johnny, we dated for 4 years. We broke up because for some reason I haven't yet been able to understand you wanted to see what else was out there. You can't call your ex to get you out of dates. Have some decorum, I'm still mourning the loss of the man I thought I was going to marry and you call me to get you out of a date? Have some sense of shame or something!" You exclaim passionately, frustrated with the situation, with him.

The car sits silently with heavy tension as you both sit in the aftermath of your exclamation. Johnny fiddles nervously with his fingers and you stare blankly at the brake lights of the car in front of you. Stand still traffic, of course it is.

"You agreed though didn't you? You agreed to be friends and I thought the break up was mutual..." Johnny replies sadly.

You can feel that knot in our throat again, this time it comes with pressure behind your eyes that you quickly blink away and clear. "Of course I did. I love you. How was I going to force you to stay in a relationship knowing that you didn't want me as much as I wanted you? Why would I force you to be unhappy? I would do anything to keep you in my life. Well, maybe not anything now." You state, not even looking at Johnny.

"I wasn't unhappy with you," Johnny replies, "we had unhappy moments, every couple does, but you didn't make me unhappy. When I said I wanted to see what else was out there, I was speaking out of anger. I didn't mean it. I didn't think we'd break up immediately after I said that. In fact, I wish I never said that. If I could go back and strangle past Johnny right now, I would."

"And yet you still decided to start dating again. Yeah, sure, I believe you," you scoff with a teary roll of your eyes.

"A date. I've been on one date because I got tired of sitting around my empty, depressing apartment, looking at my door and wondering when you were going to walk in. I stared at my phone for hours waiting for you to text or call for two months," Johnny began to ramble, "I was drunk. I was a drunk idiot when I created the profile and swiped on this person. It all happened in the same night that I set the date. I couldn't bail! How was I ever going to move on from the relationship that I stupidly ruined if I just wallowed in my depression?!"

You stared at Johnny with wide eyes, shocked at his outburst, shocked with everything he had just admitted. This time, as you began to cry into your hands, you were grateful for the traffic, grateful that you could focus on crying out the deep sadness you'd felt for months instead of driving the car. "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you call or text? Why did you make me believe that you wanted someone else for all this time?" You asked weakly.

"Baby," Johnny started, reaching over and hugging you as best he could with the center console in the way. "I thought you would hate me. I thought we wouldn't stay friends like we promised. I couldn't stand the idea of not having you in my life in any way. I didn't want to lose you all over again. I didn't want you to hate me."

"Even when I thought I hated you, I didn't really hate you. I still love you," you confess while wiping away your tears with a tissue Johnny had handed you.

Johnny cupped your cheeks, gently rubbing away the streaks left behind by your tears, "I will always love you. Always, baby."

A car behind you honked and you jumped in surprise, finally moving the car down the streets again. Johnny's fingers are intertwined with yours as traffic eases up. You both know it's going to take some work to get things back to how they were, but what matters is that things will get back to how they were. And Johnny is going to make sure that this time around, you two will be together forever.

[judebelle]

been thinking ab joao and reader hooking up behind his teammates backs'... like they've been "involved" for a while but sometimes the tension is too much and they have to sneak away iykwim ;)

sneaky - j.f. x reader

a/n : omfg anon ur gonna be the death of meeeeeee!! also i made this kinda long since i havent posted in a while, oops..

pairing : joao felix x fem!reader

word count : 2.3k

summary : joao and u prefer to keep your love life private, secret even, but the the flirty looks and knowing smirks from across the room are becoming unbearable.

cw : smut obv, lil bit of alejandro x reader, sneaky joao and reader, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it ppl), make outs, cursing, me not bothering to accent his name lol sorry

---

you were starting to regret going out to dinner with your friend alejandro and his teammates.

the only reason why being that one of his teammates had become more.

hooking up with joao felix on the down low has been fun, you won't lie. and while you enjoy sneaky quickies and flirty messages, there were times where you wish you could just tear off his clothes and fuck that smug smile right off his face.

you were currently sitting in a restaurant, a private room and table was booked for alejandro, his barcelona teammates, and their plus ones. you and alejandro had become inseparable ever since you met in spain a few years ago, and you had grown increasingly close to his teammates.

very close to a certain mr felix.

the first time you met joao, it wasn't anything magical, you just thought he was fit. alejandro had introduced you to him when he came on loan to barca recently, and you just couldn't get him out of your head.

it seems that the feelings were mutual, as that very same night he followed you on instagram. you, of course, played it cool and took your time following him back (you waited like 10 seconds).

from there, you two messaged often, especially after the team would hang out.

joaofelix79 : u got home safe?

ynsusername : ofc i did

ynsusername : alejandro wouldn't let anything happen to me

joaofelix79 : that's good.

you two started messaging more, sometimes even calling each other late in the night. you couldn't explain why, maybe he was just fun to talk to.

you would complain to him about work, and he would complain about a mistake he made in training.

eventually, you two started hanging out alone.

not anything crazy, of course.

joaofelix79 : hey

joaofelix79 : js noticed im about to drive by ur place

joaofelix79 : wanna get some ice cream? my treat

how could you refuse that?

it wasn't all that shocking to you when a surprise ice cream date turned out into a steamy make out session on a bench in a park in the middle of the night.

"we should stop, someone might see us.." you murmured against the portuguese boy's lips, you yourself making no effort to.

"ok, if that's what you want." he pulled away from you, his fluffy hair disheveled thanks to you.

"5 more minutes" you placed your lips on his again, feeling him smile against them.

from there, weekly hangouts became almost nightly. he would pick you up in his car, and you would drive anywhere. you just needed an excuse to make out. you even put your number in his phone.

eventually, joao grew tired of the make outs that led to nothing, and you did too.

12:03 am - joao : wyd

12:03 am - you : was ab to put some instant noodles in the microwave lol

12:04 am - joao : dont bother

12:04 am - joao : come eat at my place

12:05 am - joao : i ordered uber eats

of course, you went, and you two ate the chinese takeout he bought. you two sat and laughed together at his attempt at using chopsticks.

and then you found yourself perched on his kitchen counter, him in between your legs while he rammed into you mercilessly. you left red marks across his back and biceps.

"my god, you feel amazing, querida." joao's words were muffled as his head was nuzzled into your neck, his lips caressing your hot skin with every word he spoke.

"i'm so fucking close, joao.." you whined and whispered curses while your hands found themselves travelling from his arms to his hair, tugging on the soft brown locks.

"let go, y/n, i'm close too!" he removed his flushed face from your neck and connected your lips together again, breathing heavily into your mouth.

you came undone with a sharp whine, arching into him. his thrusts became sloppy as he let out a long groan against your lips, releasing into the condom.

that was the first time you two had fucked, and it definitely would not be the last.

his house was usually where you two would hook up because it was so big, and you didn't have to worry about anything when you were there.

you two fucked anywhere - on the bed, in the shower, on the couch, even in the laundry room.

you found that it didn't really matter where you were. if either of you were craving the other, it happened right then and there. it was fun. it kept you on your toes, kept things fresh and fun.

but it became a curse when you two were at a team dinner.

---

"si, i told him he could go fuck off if that was what he wanted. that guy needs to learn some manners, for fucks sake!"

the table erupted in laughs as pedro went on about some story that you weren't really paying attention to to be honest. you were sat right beside your good friend, alejandro, who was very intrigued in pedro's story and hadn't spoken to you more than twice this evening.

across from you was joao. he was wearing a black dress shirt that hugged his biceps perfectly along with black dress pants. of course, to make your life more difficult, the top two shirt buttons weren't done up.

one more open button and everyone would've seen the hickey you gave him the other-

"isn't that right, y/n?"

alejandro was speaking to you, and you were too busy staring at joao's biceps to hear him.

"hmm? sorry?"

"i said, it was you who i walked in on dancing silently in the darkness darkness of your room, right?" alejandro smirked at the sight of your cheeks going red, this memory being nothing short of embarrassing to you.

"yup, that- uh- that was me..!" you looked down in humiliation as the table giggled at alejandro's unexpected story about you. he loved embarrassing you, it was his thing. he found it fun because he thought of you like a little sister.

you looked up to see joao, laughing along with everyone else at the table, finding amusement in your misery. you shot him a playful glare.

"i'm only teasing, mi corazón." alejandro chuckled before ruffling your hair. "ale!" you whined, fixing your hair. his friends teased you. they all thought of you as their little sister, especially you being one of the younger ones.

the men continued on with their conversations as you continued looking at joao from your end of the table, only this time, he was looking at you too.

he was taking a slow sip of his water, eyeing you down.

joao wasn't the only one dressed all sexy tonight. you wore a short black satin strapless dress that hugged your figure perfectly. you thought of joao when you picked it out, you thought of him while putting it on, and you thought of him taking it off.

it seems that joao had the same thought. the way he looked at you from under his lashes gave you the impression that your outfit choice was a smart one.

you sent him a quick wink.

he smirked and dropped his eyes to your cleavage, widening them.

you rolled yours before continuing to eat your steak.

---

you couldn't take it anymore.

something the way he laughed with everyone at the table, his hair flowing when he turned his head. he had on a gold rolex and a gold chain, both glistening under the lighting over the table.

it was the way he carried himself with such confidence. he knew he was hot, and he knew you knew it too. that confidence definitely carried over into bed.

finally, you got up from the table, excusing yourself to "make a call".

shooting joao a quick look, he took the hint. his eyes followed you, watching you exit the restaurant and head towards the parking lot. after an agonizing 30 seconds or so, joao told everyone he forgot something in his car, and made a beeline to where he saw you last.

he saw you standing outside his car, waiting for him. he made his way towards you.

"so, who did you have to call?" he teased, his eyes waiting for your reaction. you scoffed and rolled your eyes, "very funny.".

you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you leaned against his car. he smiled down at you before looking over your figure.

"nice dress.."

"just take it off."

---

you two had squeezed into the back of his car, leaving nothing but surrounding street lights as your light source. you straddled his waist, rocking your hips while you smashed your lips against his. you two were breathing heavily, occasionally breaking the kiss to huff and puff before going back at it again.

joao's arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, his right hand occasionally sliding down to cup and smack your ass. his actions made you yelp into the kiss. your arms were everywhere. cupping his face, on his shoulders, in his hair, on his chest, on his abs.

it was like you two hadn't seen each other in years. like you were drowning and the only way to breathe was.. this.

your smooth rocking of the hips created a hard bulge in joao's pants which felt great on your throbbing clit. he groaned into the kiss, breaking it for you to breathe and to leave kisses down your neck.

"so, fucking, horny" he broke each word with a kiss. you moaned above him. "you can't even last one dinner party without my hands all over you?" you wanted him to shut up, so you grabbed his face in your hand and smashed your lips against his.

you started unbuttoning his shirt, but your hands were too shaky to do it quickly. "take this off, god damnit!" you groaned as he laughed and began unbuttoning it himself. you hiked your dress up and helped him with the last few buttons.

you moved his shirt partially off him, leaving it on his arms since you couldn't be bothered. you leaned down to kiss his chest while looking up at him. he was smiling down at you, hands rested behind his head.

he brought you back up to pull the top of your dress down just enough so that your tits would pop out. when they did, he licked his lips. now it was his turn to lean down and suck on them, making you tilt your head back and pant.

"joao, we dont have time for this-"

"shhh, patience princesa. don't worry." he went back to sucking.

"they're going to realize we're gone- joao!"

he couldn't bring himself to leave your tits alone, but when he did, you quickly reached down and undid his belt , not even bothering to pull it off.

"estás mesmo excitado, não é?" (you're really excited, aren't you?)

you nodded and bit your lip.

he unzipped his pants and pulled his hard cock out of his boxers. you raised yourself up on your knees and hovered over his dick. he held it up with one hand, the other resting on your hip.

"are you ready for me?" he teased.

"enough questions." you cut his teasing short as you took his cock in your hands yourself and sunk down on him.

joao hissed at the unexpected pleasure. he looked up at you, gasping for air above him before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"move for me, bebé."

you did as you were told, lifting your hips up until just the tip of him was left in you, before sinking back down on him, agonizingly slow.

he shuddered at the feeling.

you picked up the pace, causing the car to rock. your tits bounced in his face, causing him to twitch inside you.

"fuck, y/n, you're amazing-" you laugh breathlessly above him, your hands resting on his shoulders for stability while his gripped your hips tightly.

after some time, your thighs were burning, and you were getting tired. joao picked this up, taking control. his grip on your hips was put to some use as he moved your hips up and down for you. he lifted and dropped you so easily and made you move so much faster. you felt the air leave your lungs and arched your back to stick your tits in his face.

he grinned as he thrusted his hips up, meeting you in the middle. he tilted your body back, and started to hit the spot inside you that made you see white.

your pants and gasps turned into moans and whines as you felt the bundle of heat in your core.

"joao, i'm close" you warned, your nails digging into his shoudlers.

"i'm right there with you, baby, oh," he groaned and grunted as he watched him drill into you faster and faster. "meu deus, foda-se!" (my god, fuck!) he hissed with gritted teeth as he felt you clench around him.

his pace was too much for you to hold back. you let go with a gasp and moan, your hand slamming and sliding down the steamy car window, leaving a print.

joao was, indeed, right there with you. he pulled your body off of him and set you down on his thighs hastily before stroking his red, throbbing cock, cumming all over your stomach with a string of grunts and pants.

you both sat there in the hot and dark car in disbelief, covered in sweat and panting, after having the most mind blowing sex you've ever had. you leaned your forehead against his and smiled. he chuckled before teasing you once more.

"let's go. we don't want to miss dessert, do we?"

[sanni276]

Joker Jr. AU but a bit different

I have recently seen and read several Tim Drake AU's where he is Joker Jr. They were all really interesting but I noticed how Tim was (obviously since that's like the main trait of the Joker) always insane in these fics, which has given me the following idea: Tim is Joker Jr. but he is not insane and actually purposefully became him to at as a spy.

Hear me out: Little 11/12-year old Timothy was out at night doing some nighttime photography (*cough* batstalking *cough*) when he witnessed the Joker doing something so brutally sick and wrong (Barbara being shot maybe?) that Tim decided that Joker needed to be stopped and it had to happen soon. Somewhere in that thought process it somehow got into his head that he had to do something.

I am sadly not actually smart enough to explain to you how he did it, but Tim tricks the Joker into making him his "son" and into thinking that he is insane. However instead of bringing chaos and harm upon the people of Gotham, Tim is using JJ as a cover to infiltrate the world of Gotham's rogues and send warnings to the police and citizens before attacks so they can be stopped or at least as many people saved as possible.

Another use of Tim pretending to be JJ is, that he can slowly convince Harley to leave the Joker over time and even better: Joker might take him to Ethiopia where Tim saves Jason. Through Jason's vague memories of being rescued in the last second by a child that was with the Joker? the Bat's finally become aware of the fact that Joker has a child (i imagine that they only heard rumours about it before and they kind of brushed it off since the story didn't really add up or some other excuse like that). They are obviously very concerned but when they finally find Tim and expect to meet a traumaticzed child that has become close to insanity, this happens instead:

*Batman and co. dramatically landing on the roof JJ is standing on*

*Tim turning around and starting to wave exitedly when he sees them*: Hi :)! Omg I can't believe I'm meeting you guys, i am a big fan do you need something from me? Information maybe? That would be no problem although you might have to wait a bit if you need like specific info on a rogue because i would have to investigate first and-

Nightwing: Wtf B?! You told me to come from Blud tonight since I am the best of us with children but I wouldn't touch whatever this is with a ten-foot-pole.

Batman (ignoring his son): Hello Timothy (yeah they figured out his identity), we are here to rescue you from the Joker and bring you home to your family.

Tim: Rescue me? Why would you have to rescue me? *whispering to himself* and my parents have found out i'm not at drake manor? I am going to have to check they're travel plans again.

*Bat's sharing a concerned glance*

Jason: I know this is hard to understand for you and you must be so scared, but Joker is very dangerous. We can help you. You are safe now and you don't need to defend him.

*Tim looking at them with a confused Pikachu face*: Ewwww, I would rather drop my camera off a roof than defend the Joker. I think we are having a little misunderstanding right now.

Tim, completly convinced from his Hero's greatness, just assumed that the Bat's knew about his existence, who he was and that he was only pretending to be a rogue. Why wouldn't they? There the best detectives in the world after all!

He then procedes to explain to them how he is literally the perfect spy, since his parents wouldn't even really miss him if he died and he already made contingencies that would assure all the data and evidence he has on people would be automatically deleted.

The Bat's leave that rooftop not only without Tim, but also somehow even more concerned than before.

In conclusion: Give me an AU that is just Tim my sweet-summer child doing the most reckless shit that is somehow atually very helpful for everyone while the Batfam is just desperatly trying and failing to convince Tim that he has no obligation for what he is doing and that his sacrifice would not be worth it (during the many encounters they have, Tim slowly turns out to be the perfect adoption bait and I think we all already know how this is going to end.)

This is literally my first ever tumblr post or post about the batfam so I hope I did this the right way and this was somewhat possible to enjoy. Please tell me if i made any mistakes since english isn't my first language and feel free to write fic's using my idea!

[mncxbe]

Sfw 8 + NSFW 12 + 17 with Denji

My babygirl deserves some love <3

the way i ate this up😳 the brainrot is brainrotting. collegeAU with Denji cuz I like to believe he'd be as much of a loser then♡ gaah i love him so much. also y/n is rich rich👀 for extra silly and damn this turned out way longer than i anticipated.

8– accidentally walking in on them while they're changing

12– catching them stealing your panties

17– they worship your body

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: alcohol cunsumption (reader is tipsy), cunnilingus, Denji being a perv, implied virginity loss, subby Denji

For your 19th birthday you decided to host the greatest party of the year and everyone in your grade was invited.

The penthouse your parents allowed you to live in during college was nicely decorated– black and white balloons and drizzle, flashy lights and speakers that started blaring loud music as soon as the sun set. Everyone was having a blast, downing glasses of neon colored punch and cheap beer, dancing and chatting in groups. Well, everyone except you. You were painfully bored.

When you threw the party of the year you didn't expect everyone to forget the purpose of the whole fucking event– celebrating your birthday.

You've been sitting all by yourself on the couch for the past half hour, sipping on a plastic cup of cocktail. Your gaze mused on the livingroom of your apartment, trying to find someone interesting to talk to. The only people who approached you were some guys from Arts who tried to chat you up, but they rambled on about some uninteresting exhibitions and you soon got bored and shunned them.

As you got up to refill your glass, you noticed someone slipping inside your bedroom. The fuck.. you thought, pushing past drunk people on your way towards your room. You swung the door open and saw a blond guy about your age standing in front of your dresser. When he heard you barge in he immediately slammed the drawer shut, his head snapping in your direction.

It was Denji. Just Denji.

Though you briefly interacted with the Denji, you knew him from highschool. He was the guy who used to let other students use him as a chair during breaks for some spare change. You remembered working on some group projects with him back then but you seldom saw him around campus now. He mostly kept to himself, so you were surprised too see him at your party in the first place— not to mention you certainly didn't expect to catch him going through your lingerie drawer. Still, maybe this wasn't such a bad thing...

"Well, well what do we have here?" you chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed.

"Y/N hi" he said nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt "I was just um... looking for a place to change. Someone spilled some punch on my clothes"

You noticed the stain on his shirt and smiled, closing the door behind you. "And you thought you'd find a clean tshirt somewhere next to my panties?"

A blush crept on his face as he looked down at his shoes. "No, I mean I was just looking..." he fumbled "It's not like I was snooping around on purpose, i'm not that kind of guy" His voice was weak, half hearted as he looked around the room. At anything but you.

Swaying your hips, you closed the distance between you "So you're not some perv who's trying to steal my panties?" you asked and he shook his head. "N-no I'd never–"

"The show me your pockets"

Denji's face grew livid when he heard your command and you knew you had him. He was caught red handed and there wasn't much he could do about it. If he admitted maybe you'd at least allow him to stay at the party for a bit longer The boy couldn't bear to look you in the eyes as he reached a hand to the back pocket of his jeans and procured a pair of your lacy panties.

"Here, take them, but just know it's not what you think." It was cute that he still tried to find excuses for his actions and you blamed the alcohol for the heat pooling in your lower abdomen. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, you gazed up at him with droopy eyes.

All the while, Denji was getting more and more nervous. His palms were sweaty, heart hammering in his chest as he peered at you. God, you were so damn beautiful– Though he didn't admit it, Denji had a crush on you from the first moment he saw you. You were the pretties girl in school, which meant you were way out of his league. A goddess like you would never spare a moment of her time on someone like him, right? Well, his conviction was starting to crumble now that he saw the way you eyed him down with that taunting glint in your eyes.

"Ya know, Denji, I don't recall you giving me a gift or wishing me happy birthday. It's awfully rude of you." you slurred, tapping the floor with the tip of your heels.

His sorry excuses were half drowned by the blaring music in the other room. Your head was starting to get foggy from the alcohol, limbs growing heavier, as if an invisible weight was pulling you down against mattress. "Jee... quit the whining" you giggled, waving a dismissive hand in his direction "I'm not mad at you. However, I do think you need to make up for it."

"Y/N, I told you I'm in a tight spot with money this month, but I'll buy you something nice once I get my paycheck."

"I'm not talking about that" you deadpanned, a sly smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your gaze drifted down towards his belt and then back up to his face, taking in his frame. You couldn't deny he wasn't bad looking. Out of all the guys at the party, he seemed the best option for a casual hookup– not to mention he was already interested in you, so why not give it a try? With a motion of your finger, you beckoned him closer, pointing at the floor "Get on your knees."

Denji swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered the courage to step away from your dresser. With hesitant steps he covered the distance between the two of you and kneeled before you, his hands folded in his lap. His fists clenched and unclenched as he anxiously waited for your instructions.

To be frank, you never expected him to obey so you were quite taken aback by his attitude.

"You still let people order you around, Denji? How cute" you cooed, hooking your right leg over his shoulder and pulling him closer to the edge of the bed.

The blond tried his best not to peek under your skirt, his face turning red from embarrassment. He's never been so close to a girl before, let alone someone as beautiful as you and he was nervous. As if reading his mind you let out a low chuckle, hiking up your skirt.

"Come on, Denji, take off my panties. If you make me feel good I'll let you keep them."

By this point Denji was too far gone. Your silken voice put him under a spell and he eagerly pulled down your lingerie. A small moan slipped past his lips when he saw the string of arousal connecting your pussy to the silky fabric, his features melting into a pleading expression. He looked so needy, gazing at your bare cunt with those puppy eyes, his hands shaking lightly as he fully removed your panties and let them fall in his lap.

"There you go, Denji. Get a good look of it." you encouraged, running your fingers through his tangled hair to ease him into the new situation. You could tell it was his first time seeing a woman naked and didn't want to scare him off. So you took things slowly, waiting for him to get comfortable. Little did you know there was no need for that.

Denji was basically drooling over your pussy. He rested his head against your thigh, leaning into your touch as he spread your puffy folds with his thumb. His breath stuck in his throat when he noticed just how wet you were and it was all because of him. With shaky fingers, he collected the slick from your hole and spread it nicely along your clit, making you flinch.

"There?" he asked in a barely audible voice but you heard him nevertheless. "Y-yea, right there."

He slowly drew circles on your bud, making you writhe on the mattress and you spread your legs wider, shamelessly grinding on his hand. Sloppy movements over your clit had increased in intensity and you could feel the knot in your abdomen tighten with each swipe of his digits.

"Go on, baby, give it a taste" you said in a hushed voice and he immediately obliged. Hooking your other leg over his shoulder, Denji's hands gently massaged your thighs. He kissed his way up to your core, wet lips tracing the inside of your thighs, teeth nipping at your skin but not enough to leave marks.

He licked a stripe of your cunt from your hole to your clit, relishing the taste of your arousal. You were basically melting on his tongue and he was adamant to please you. As the grip on your thighs tightened, Denji collected some spit in his mouth and let the blob slide down your slit. He started eating you out slow, savouring the heat on his tongue but he soon increased the pace. It was clear that he had little idea of what he was doing– he was sloppy, messy, a mixture of slick and spit coating his chin as he lapped at your juices and you swore you got ten times wetter just by hearing him moan into your cunt.

His tongue flicked your clit so eagerly, lips wrapping around your bud, giving it an experimental suck. Your hips jolted up in pleasure but Denji quickly pulled you back on his face.

"Is it good?" he mumbled, pussy drunk eyes briefly meeting your as you nodded.

"Y-yea. You're so good Denji, gonna make me cum soon."

He mewled at your praise, his ministrations growing in intensity as heat pooled in your core. You were so close, choked moans spilling from your lips as your vision blurred. Denji made you feel so good you were starting to regret not paying more attention to him all those years back. He ate you out like it was his lifeline, hugging your thighs closer to his face to keep you from squirming too much. When you came you came hard, nails grazing his scalp as you pulled him closer to your cunt, grinding down on his face to ride out your high.

"Denji fuck—" you whined, arching your back off the mattress and he gently massaged the fat of your thighs and hips, his hands seeking your body you.

"I got you, just cum for me ok? Please feel good" he said softly, kissing your pussy and the inner side of your thighs before working his way up to your belly. He didn't dare go past the line of your dress, though all he wanted was to keep touching and kissing, to soak you up in all the love and affection he harbored for you during all these years.

When you looked down at him with those droopy, drunk-dazed eyes his heart sank, a soft smile etching onto his features.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a small voice as you pushed yourself up to sitting and held his face in your hands, leaning towards him. Denji's eyes rolled back into his skull as you kissed him, his lashes fluttering shut. You could taste yourself on his tongue along with the sweet punch he drank earlier that night. The kiss was heated and you pulled him on top of you, tugging at the wristband on his jeans.

"H-hey wait a minute I've never done this before" he tensed up but you shushed him with another needy kiss.

"Shit, I don't care if you're a virgin Denji I just need you so bad right now. Please" you huffed out and he felt his dick getting impossibly harder. He could almost cum in his pants at the sight of your pleading expression.

"Okay..." he whispered, hesitantly unbuckling his belt and you could tell he was nervous again. With sloppy movements he managed to allign himself to your entrance, shuffling around to make sure everything was alright, but just as he was about to push himself inside he perked up, patting your thigh. "Oh, Y/N I almost forgot."

"What?" you whined, grinding your needy pussy on his length. Why can't he just fuck you already?

The blond looked down at you with a lovesick smile, his eyes sparkling with adoration "I think I still haven't wished you happy birthday"

[aggieharkness]

A garden of sorrows shall bloom into hope.

Pairing: Joan Ramsey x reader

Summary: love can never be evil. Love should never be cruel or selfish but listen and comfort. Love could never have a form or fit in a mold as it is a feeling so deep that it shapes one's very soul. Love was at Joan's feet and she was cradling it, on her knees.

Warnings: religious trauma, mentions of murder and death, grief, child loss, isolation, buuuuut things get better cause there's fluff

Author's note: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to post this, but I wanted it to be good because it's a Joan story and she's a really complex character. I hope you all like it and I do hope that you can all see it as a Valentine's story. Special shout-out to @bravewithacapitalb for being my Beta Reader when she's got her own thing going. I love you girl. Sorry @delusionalforolderwomen but it's not Libby (don't be mad 🥺) . As always, do tell me how it looks, if you all like it or if there are things I need to change. I accept constructive criticism. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Joan Ramsey but curse the writers for not giving us more scenes with her. If she evil why shaped like such a cutie pie?!

Happy Valentine's!

Words: 12 K (No comment)

A garden of sorrows shall bloom into hope.

Say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset. The radio never ceased its incessant pour of songs, most of them speaking of love and romance and futures that held no pain, only promises. Lies, all lies. Joan couldn’t help but scoff as the words went on, a goodbye to a loved one, someone who had meant something and who still held a special place in the singer’s heart, she thought, a foolish message that would fall on deaf ears. Or dead ears. The house was cold, silence creeping around every corner, making the wood creak and whine under its weight, curtains drawn and windows closed, not even a small breeze breaking into the house. She had no one to remember her by, not a soul left in her meaningless life that would hold her at night or sign with her in the kitchen while she cooked, only bitter memories and regret at her actions. The almighty had forsaken her, abandoned her in a vast land of sins and pain that she couldn’t escape from, and in the centre of all that fire and destruction that had become her life, she stood alone.

She laid in bed each night hoping she would not open her eyes the next day, unable to cope with everything that had happened, with the thoughts that she once had had a husband and son that she had loved more than herself and now only smoke was left, swirling in between her fingers, unable to grasp them, unable to fix what was broken. Joan barely ate, what little appetite she had vanishing every time she stepped into the house hoping to hear Luke, to even hear her late husband speaking on the phone to some client or other, only to be met by silence, that deafening noise that seeped into her bones. And today, was no different. She sat at the head of her oak dining table, a glass and bottle of red wine sitting in front of her as the radio played in the background trying to fill up the room with something that wasn’t the brutal sorrow that had overtaken her body. Her hair was piled on the back of her head, held by a black claw clip that dug onto her scalp, her bangs brushing her eyelids each time she blinked, but she showed no sign that it was bothering her, a few short random strands framing her face.

Months had passed since she had lost Luke, since she had let her own madness take him from her, the Devil’s work she had thought back then, and she was no closer to getting over it than the oceans were to drying up. No matter how much she tried to find an excuse, a reason as to why she had done all she had she could not, and it frightened her how lost she was, how little the scriptures she had once held onto as if they were oxygen to her meant to her now, only words in a worn book that brought no comfort. When had she stopped walking the path of the Lord? She had been His humble servant, and he had only put stones on her path that as the years went by, she had more trouble climbing, winning each trial he set before her with more difficulty each time. Had he been testing her faith all along or had he never cared for her? She was one of his children, and he cared for all of them equally and yet she felt… alone. Even when she had first gotten married she had felt alone, sitting in an empty house waiting for her beloved to walk through the front door to a warm delicious dinner and the sweetest, loving smile she could muster on her face. He had never truly seen her, pushing her aside without her noticing, or perhaps she had been aware, and she had been far too terrified of being left behind that she had let him.

The wine in her glass was sweet, her favourite kind, and it tinted her rosy lips as she took a sip, but as it slid down her throat it became sour, bitter on her tongue. Nothing tasted right anymore, the air around her didn’t smell as fresh as it once had, dusty, perhaps even musky and it clashed with the aroma of her perfume and shampoo, vanilla and sandalwood, in a nauseating manner that didn’t help her empty stomach. The song had ended a while ago, something different playing, raking in her ears like nails on a board, but she had no desire to stand and turn it off. She could not face the silence once more, it was poisoning her, killing her as the minutes passed by, the clock on the wall ticking in a perfect rhythm. So I'll dance with your ghost in the living room and I'll play the piano alone. What ghosts? The ones that she had caused or the ones that haunted her every second of every day? Could your eyes be considered a ghost? She had seen you arrive a few months ago, shortly after the incident with Luke, and as Joan’s big brown eyes had settled on your form, through the living room window, she could not help but admire the agility and grace with which you moved. It was a change from the way the girls in that school flaunted themselves, and in her heart, she felt a pang of sadness imagining how different you would be in only a few weeks. Probably condescending and with an air of superiority taught to you by Fiona, losing everything that made you so unique. She was proven wrong.

You had been warned about Joan, told about what she had done and how you were supposed to steer clear of her, but you didn’t. It had taken you several days to warm up to the idea of knocking on her door, a tray of homemade cookies in your hands, hoping your new housemates and teachers wouldn’t give you detention for breaking their rules, but there was something inside you that was curious, drawn to this unknown woman everyone seemed to hate. There were questions no one had ever bothered to ask to get the whole picture, and you intended to gather your own information and form your own opinions about her before you condemned her, after all she was nothing but a name to you. The instant the doors had opened your mind erased all preconceived ideas. She was beautiful, her perfectly straight hair framing a face of prominent cheeks and plump lips, a most exquisite pink hue tainting her skin, her features unique and utterly breathtaking. She had observed you quietly for a moment or two, curiosity glazing her eyes and she had not expected anyone to come knocking on her door, much less you, the new girl, but she could not say, not even now, that she was displeased by having another human being speak with her.

And it had taken her completely by surprise just how kind you were, how softly you spoke to her, and how unbothered you seemed to be by what she had done. Perhaps you hadn’t known? No, she had seen the hesitation at first in those beautiful eyes of yours, the way you held yourself at a prudent distance as if she could cause you harm, but when she had greeted you, Joan’s voice hoarse from not having spoken a single word in days those doubts had melted into nothing, ice under the sun. Of course, she was aware of what you were, of the power you held within you, and she had been wary of what you might do to her if you changed your mind about how you felt about her in the middle of the conversation, but that never happened, not for an instant did your interest sway from her and only her, no past tainting your ever-growing opinions. After she took the plate of cookies, a quiet thank you slipping from her rosy lips, the aroma of chocolate and sugar making her mouth water, your semblance took on a more sombre aura and with the utmost respect words of sympathy left your mouth, falling of the tip of your tongue like rain on a desert. And for the first time she felt as if someone actually cared about her pain, as if someone who could see her grief and sorrow and not just the actions that had unleashed it all. Tears had gathered in her eyes at that, only managing a nod as a lump formed in her throat preventing her from speaking, barely hanging on by a thread, and thankfully you understood. As you turned around to leave, your hand brushed over Joan’s wilting roses and like magic they blossomed once again, soft pink petals gleaming under the warm sunlight.

That first time she saw you haunted her to this day, the way your hair shone under the golden light of the full sun, how your flowy dress swayed in lazy waves around your legs in the warm breeze, the way your eyes had instantly bewitched her with their honesty and their caring gaze. You had known nothing but horrible things about her and yet you had had the courage of meeting her and treating her with kindness. She hadn’t known such a feeling since she was a young girl, not even her church acquaintances had bothered to show her an ounce of mercy and care when everything had unfolded before her, when hell had broken loose in her life. If God was supposed to love her, why had he closed his eyes at her pleas and let her wander into a dark path that had no exit? Each day became unbearable, long, dragging out until her tired body could not remain awake a moment longer even if all she had done was sit in her living room and let her guilt pushed her to the ground and stomp on her. The only moments of joy she lived were when you made it your own personal mission to get her to walk out onto the porch of the garden, her dressed hugging her frame looser every time you saw her, her skin losing that healthy glow that had adorned her that first time. It broke your heart just how everyone had cast her aside without asking why. Things were so much more complicated that she let on, you could sense it, but you never pushed her into spilling her secrets to you, highly doubting she had faced those terrors since they had happened.

You were indeed the only ghost she ever wanted in her life, floating through the halls of her house and whispering her name in her ear as soon as the sun set on the horizon, her bedroom bathed in the cool like of a full moon. But she had pushed you away, like the coward she was, afraid of what was blossoming in between the cracks of her broken heart, shards of red glass spread inside her chest. She had never thought anyone would be able to pick them up and put them together again, that someone who take an interest in a lost woman like herself, and as you had held her hand for the first time a week ago Joan had crumbled like a house of cards. She had melted into your touch, your smile lighting up the entire city as you pulled her out of her house and down the street, laughing and talking a thousand miles per minute about nothing and everything. She had listened to your every word, the sound of your voice a balm for her wounds as she let you to take her to the ends of the world, but when she had realised what was happening, that she had fallen for you she had pulled her hand from yours, forcing you to halt your steps and turn to her with a confused look on your face. Had you said or done something wrong? Why did she seem so upset all of a sudden? Without a word she had taken a step back from you, horror painting her features before she had run back to her house. She had refused to turn back as you called out her name, each time with a more pained tone, because if she had she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have kissed you right there on the street, and she couldn’t be in love with someone like you.

What a joke it was now to think she had been so terrified of having something with you when the “Good book” was nothing more than a paper weight on her dining table. Verses about love sounded empty, just as hollow as was the void in her chest, the accusatory sermons she had heard over the years about what was supposed to be a happy marriage, how love should feel and look nothing more than poppycock as they echoed in her mind. I'm so scared that the moments we shared won't happen again. I don't want this to end. The radio had changed yet again, and it seemed to Joan as if it was connected to her, expressing what she could not bring herself to voice, terrified that if she opened up her heart all those verses that had been carved into her very being would crush her, punish her for not being who she was taught to be. But how could she carry on lying to herself? The Joan that had been blinded by God’s words had done things that should have made you run away, and yet you stayed, came back to her whenever she needed you without expecting anything but a smile in return. The Joan that now sat all alone in her big empty house, filled with demons brought by her own hand, could feel nothing knowing that the only chance at redeeming herself had been right there, in the palm of her hand and she had run away from it. You could have been the star that made her retrace her steps to the beginning of the road.

Like a leaf that falls from a tree, the cold breeze of winter making it sway from side to side, its broken edges slicing through the air, a single tear fell from her eyes, the crystal drop sliding down her cheek. It fell on her lap, sour and full of regret, and the once delicious wine tasted like a vile concoction the instant it touched her lips, but she forced herself to drink as if it could numb the pain of her past while her soft eyes stared at her bleak future, clouds only getting darker. No, it wasn’t God who punishing her, it was obvious he didn’t care enough about her to even do so, she was flagellating herself as if that could make the blood she had on her hands vanish, refusing to let anyone love her, crushing her own feelings as if she didn’t have the right to find happiness once again. She who is without sin, cast the first stone. The words stung her skin, fingers gripping the glass harder to the point where her knuckles turned white, the thin crystal cup threatening to shatter and splash wine and shards everywhere, but she didn’t stop. She could never pick up said stone, she could never throw it unless it was at herself, because she had done nothing but commit sin after sin thinking that they were justified, that she was being a good Christian woman when in truth she had strayed from the path long ago. Who was she following now? The Church? The Devil? Perhaps there was no one on the other side of those empty words preached every Sunday. Ain't it funny how time shows you, you know nothing.

The song finished, leaving a few seconds of complete silence to fill up the room, the flames of a few candles Joan had lit an hour ago or so the only source of light, casting wavy shadows onto the wood. When had everything gone wrong? With a silly voice the person doing the program on the radio spoke about the playlist they had ready for the next forty-five minutes, every song a message of love for everyone who celebrated this special holiday. Another scoff fell from Joan’s lips; it was Valentine’s Day, of course. She had barely left the house in the last three days, she had not seen the millions of flowers and balloons that filled up the stores, not the way your frame had been glued to your bedroom window hoping to get a glimpse of her, wondering why the sudden reluctance and fear of you. She hated the holiday, it felt frivolous, cold to her, and she hadn’t really had anyone to celebrate it with since Luke had been a child, her husband always busy, always emotionally unavailable, the house waiting for a bouquet that never arrived, a ring that remained at the store, a box of chocolate that went stale on the shelf where it rested. She had been s deep in thought that it took her a couple of minutes to hear the doorbell, the shrill sound almost making her ears bleed. She only wanted to be left alone so she could get drunk in her own sorrow until she could no longer breathe, but whoever was on the other side of her front door was not giving up, and after switching between knocks and that horrid bell for over five minutes Joan stood, the chair scraping angrily over her wooden floors.

She was angry at the interruption, and it showed in the way her heels echoed as she made her way to the door, grabbing the knob and throwing it wide open, the glass rattling as it hit the wall. Whatever she was going to say to whoever was on the other side faded into the ether as her eyes were met with the sight of a sea of flowers at her feet, a rainbow of colours gleaming under the soft light of the full moon that shone high up in the night sky. There were dozens of roses of every shade imaginable sprawled over the white pine wood, tulips, sunflowers, and what seemed a thousand more flowers resting in between. She was no stranger to gifts, small things that didn’t mean much like an old perfume or a silver bracelet in which her name was spelled wrong, but this was a whole new level. On the stairs, kneeling before Joan, you looked up at her, a lovely white dress subtly hugging your figure while a blue box rested on the palms of your hands. You had never looked so perfect before, smiling kindly up at her as your eyes held her gaze, something she couldn’t quite recognise dancing like stars on your irises, sparkling with a life that pulled her towards you like a magnet. Her brown heels took one single step forward, the wood creaking under her weight, her hand falling slowly from the doorknob and coming to rest on her side, her lips parted in surprise, a slight red colour lingering from the wine.  

-Y/N? – her voice sounded so raspy and raw, as if she hadn’t used it since the day she left you, and perhaps she had. No one had come to visit her ever since you had moved in next door, it would be no surprise, but that didn’t mean it was a pleasant thought.

-Hello, Joan.

-What are you doing here? What’s all this?

-121 flowers. One for each day I’ve known you, and all of them as an apology for whatever I did wrong the other day.

-This must have cost a fortune. – her feet brushed the soft petals of a purple tulip as her body moved closer to yours of its own accord, almost as if your skin was calling out to hers, her heart racing against her ribs nearly painfully.

-That doesn’t matter, you are worth this and much more, Joan.

-But why? – she had never felt so conflicted before, wishing you would take her in your arms and never let her go but knowing that whatever this was, if it was ever something and not just a hallucination of her mind, wasn’t right. But then why did she feel like you were her saviour and guide? Part of her would follow you blindly like Mary had followed Christ, sharing your burdens and kneeling at the foot of your cross ready to gather you in her arms. But the other held her back, keeping her in a prison that was her own mind, prejudices that had been taught to her all her life making her feel as if what her heart was saying to her, whispers spoken from in between the cracks, would condemn her to an eternity of pain. But wasn’t she already living like that? You had stood from your spot on the stairs, analysing the sadness that had laced her question as you stepped closer to her, barely a foot separating you, the blue box you had been holding now resting on the floor next to your feet.

-Because you don’t deserve what you are going through. I don’t care how many times Fiona tells me you are dangerous and that I can’t see you. I know you would do me no harm. I have heard your story on a loop from mouths that weren’t yours for months and it doesn’t seem fair. They have no right to tell your story.

-But they do, and people listen to them. Do yourself a favour Y/N and go home.  

Was she really about to give up on the only thing that had made her truly happy in years? Her hand hesitated to touch you, knowing it would be even harder to let you go the moment her touch starved soul caressed yours, but she indulged herself, at least one last time, and took your hand in hers, her thumb rubbing your soft skin. All the way from the dining hall a new song played, and it couldn’t have been a most perfectly cruel choice. Don't you know I'm no good for you? I've learned to lose you. Joan truly fought to keep her composure, to not break down before you had walked away, but you didn’t move and with the way you were looking at her as if she was the sun, the moon and all the stars combined her carefully crafted walls collapsed. Tears fell down her cheeks in quick succession, burning her flesh, and she almost expected you extract your hand from hers and leave her standing there drowning in her own grief the same way everyone else had, but your warmth never left.

You had never known of anyone who deserved love more than Joan, and at the sight of her tears, her very soul conflicted with who she was at this point in her life, unsure of what she wanted and what she felt she had the right to ask for, all translated into the tears that fell like sharp diamonds all the way to the cold hard wood under her feet you threw caution to the wind and gathered her in your arms. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt the palms of your hands on her back pressing her against your warm body, a sea of flowers and fallen petals in a circle around your feet, the sweet aroma enfolding her as much as your embrace did. Her thin dress was no obstacle for your heat to seep into her bones, easing all the aches that had settled deeply within her, listening to the way your heart beat slowly, almost in a perfect rhythm. But it was the touch of your lips, soft and tender, on her temple that had her sobbing into the crook of your neck. She could not do it, she could not watch you slip through her fingers after all the pain she had gone through, your presence the only thing she ever wanted in her life. My love, my love, my love, my love. Won't you stay a while? 

You would stay for all eternity if that’s what she wanted, if it meant healing her and seeing her smile as you shared the smallest of things, watching her find her own path, her own light and purpose out of all the teachings that had turned her into a woman she hadn’t recognised when standing in front of the mirror. Your fingers traced lazy patterns in between her shoulder blades as your other hand held her gently against your frame by the back on her neck, her tears leaving wet patches on your dress, though you cared very little about it. A chill drifted under the roofed porch, riding up Joan’s spine and making her shiver but she didn’t move, the grip her hands had on your gown making her knuckles turn white. If loving you, caring about you was such a horrible thing, a temptation from the Devil, why did it feel as if she was walking the heavens now that she was in your arms? Was she willing to risk eternal damnation in exchange for a lifetime with you? You had come back to her even after her fears and doubts had made her run away, and you had brought her a flower for every single day you had known each other; no one had ever done such a thing for her, she could not even recall the last time she had been given a single lilting flower, let alone 121.

-You don’t need to be so strong all the time Joan. Let yourself grief, I will be here to hold you and take what you can’t carry. Don’t believe for an instant that you are undeserving of love or understanding. Those who have not lived it all in your skin cannot see and feel the truths hidden in your mind. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Your voice was calm, soothing as each word fell from your lips like rain after a long draught and it filled every cell in her body with a sense of peace that halted her sobs and made her lift her head from your shoulder, red, puffy eyes locking onto yours. Were you an angel sent to her to return her to the rightful path, to the road built in the truths that were never written and therefor never changed, each stone an action that had no other witness but Him? There could be wrong in the way her heart raced as your words sunk deeply withing the cracks, no evil clouding her mind, making her stray for she was now exactly where she was meant to be, and your touch was nothing but glorious, a rejoicing song against her skin. Her face was only inches away from yours, your eyes counting every freckle that adorned her nose and cheeks, such an intimate position reminding her that that was the closest she had been to another person in years. The traces of a life she didn’t want to go back to lingered in everything she did and everything she said, habits that would take an entire lifetime to erase and yet she was willing to do so, as long as you were right beside her, reassuring her that everything would be alright every time those demons that haunted her came to claw at her free will, tempting her to fall back into the darkness she currently resided in, regret and fear her only companions.

Her chocolate eyes hid thousands of secrets, of untold stories that you wanted to hear, but not because you were a curious person or a gossip, which you supposed you were to a certain extent, but because they were simply hers and everything that belonged to her was, everything that was her, meant the world to you. You did not fight the feeling of your heart jumping a bit as you held her gaze, falling down rivers of sorrow and happiness that run underneath long oak bridges, their path taking you to where Joan’s broken soul laid, cracks running deeply from side to side as the light within her quivered dimly under the weight of everything that had happened. Your gentle hands could not heal the ill nor make the dead rise, but they could hold her steady as the wounds stitched themselves together, no more blood pooling in that void that had formed in her chest. The late-night breeze carried the words of song Joan didn’t know, sweet notes that danced in between specks of dust, floating lazily, twirling in a waltz that no one saw. And even though she was unfamiliar with the music, it somehow made your eyes glint under the silvery beams that bathed the pavement, moonlight casting a spell over the city, away from the yellow lights of the streetlamps. Now, I've thought it through. Crawling back to you.     

Over glass and burning embers, you would crawl on your hands and knees back to her, even if the world turned against you, even if there was nothing else worth living for, she would be the only reason you drew breath every morning as dawn broke through the horizon and as the thick veil of night covered the sky. The petals scattered on the floor glowed under the pearly beams, reflecting on Joan’s sun-kissed skin, translucent rainbows lingering on her cheeks, dripping over her full lips like honey, slow and perfectly sweet. Her hands didn’t want to release your dress, afraid you might vanish before her eyes and her brain realised that all this had been nothing but bitter dream induced by the lack of sleep and the wine, another punishment she was inflicting on herself, but she still did it, her fingers stiff as they released the warm fabric, discomfort building in her hands at the hard grip she had had on you. Your touch lingered for an instant longer, but when her arms fell to her sides you understood the moment had passed, and as much as your words were still echoing inside Joan’s mind, your fingers tenderly brushed the skin of her neck one last time before cold meet the spots where your warmth seeping from your palms had been.

It was a most odd sensation to feel a shiver running down her spine at the lack of your touch on her, wishing your hands were still on her. She could hardly recall when had been the last time her husband had held her hand, let alone kiss her on the cheek or look at her they way your eyes did, no fear or disgust shinning over them. She could not remember if anyone had ever bothered to go to the extents you had to show her they cared, to do something with a meaning, not just to fill up the purpose of the holiday and get her off their backs, and make her feel like perhaps there was hope for her. Standing in separate circles once again, you took the opportunity to kneel at her feet and pick up a single flower, a most perfect pink lily that Joan hadn’t noticed before, a little trick you had had up your sleeve, and in the most gentlemanly manner you could muster bowed and handed it to her. Her lips broke into a giddy smile, unable to stop it even if she had wanted to, her slender fingers taking hold of the stem and bringing it to her nose, the rich floral accents that fell from its petals, bright and deep pink tones painted on the inside with the utmost care as the edges stood out in a pristine white, never overshadowing the other, only blending to perfection as pastel pink dots laid scattered over the soft floral leaf, filling her lungs.

-Its beautiful Y/N. Thank you. – her timid smile was partially hidden by the flower, resting gently over her rosy lips, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t seen it or hadn’t noticed the tint that was spreading over her cheeks, a most enchanting shade of red complimenting her doe eyes.

-I’m glad you like it, but I’m not done yet. I have a few more things planned for us. That is of course, if… you want to be my Valentine.

-Your… your Valentine? Me?

-Yes. There’ no one else in the entire planet that I would rather spend this day with than you, Joan. Not a soul. – you had rendered her speechless for a moment, the thought of you actually asking her such a thing never having crossed her mind, which was foolish really. You had done all this because you wanted to spend this holiday with her. She was aware that her smile was that of a shocked by lovesick teenager now, her heart fluttering like butterflies trapped in a cage begging to be released, using the lily as a shield to hide her ever-growing blush from your piercing by kind eyes.

-I… I think I would like that. Very much.

-Then please, take this as a token of my affections for you.    

She had completely forgotten about the blue box that rested next to your feet, a white ribbon tying it closed so its contents wouldn’t be spilt all over her front porch, Joan’s eyes watching as your body quickly bent over to pick it up. She still held the flower in between her fingers, cool under its touch, as you presented yet another gift to her, curiosity peeking for the second time that night, but she didn’t want to let go of the lily, and so with quick hands she placed it on the side of her head, the smooth petals caressing her temple as the she secured the flower by threading the stem in between a few locks of hair and the claw clip that held the silky strands on the back of her head. She would wear it all night long and put it in a vase with water next to her bed when the day was done and sleep began to creep up on her, wishing to close her eyes to its sight and wake up to it as well, the gesture forever engraved in her mind. With both hands now free her fingers made quick work of the bow and ribbon, the rough material resting over your palms, and with shaky limbs, anticipation building quickly within her, she pushed the top off.

-Oh, Y/N! – wasn’t it a most melodious sound to hear her laugh? Those loud tones, unapologetic as they echoed in the night, sweet as happiness poured out of them in quick succession, her smile only growing bigger as sparks shone in her eyes. One thing was to hear her chuckle, maybe even be granted the honour of hearing a soft laugh pass her plump lips, and another far more magical and sublime was to hear that rumbling sound sliding with easy from her throat, being you and only you the cause and the benefactor of such a sound. There were no gold necklaces or platinum bracelets resting over expensive layers of velvets, no seas of diamonds or rubies that could adorn her collarbones or her fingers, not even a unique bottle of scotch waiting for her inside that box, and yet what was presented to her held a much deeper meaning and an aura of love and care that she appreciated far more than all the jewellery money could buy. Twenty small doughnuts were neatly placed on top of a pink sheet of parchment paper, white melted chocolate displayed on top of the spongy dough as red icing spelled “ Happy Valentine’s Joan”, purple, red, white and pink sprinkles decorating each pastry to perfection, the last doughnut of the batch being the only one shaped as a heart, covered in ruby chocolate and with what looked like some sort of jam spilling from its insides.

-I made them myself. The first batch burned because I didn’t hear the oven go off, but I think these ones turned out pretty good. I hope you like them.

-They are wonderful. And beautiful. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me you know?

-It’s no trouble, at all Joan. Anything that I make for you is never a chore or a task. I enjoy it, trust me. – she did, she could not find a single reason not to do so when your intentions shone as pure as snow, no hidden requests or lies masked as innocent compliments. There was no venom in your smile, no evil behind your beautiful eyes, only genuine care for her that made her all warm and fuzzy, a feeling she had forgotten about, a sensation she wondered for a moment if she had ever truly felt. You took one step towards her, the edge of the box barely an inch from her bosom, the chill breeze that had been lazily twirling around the both of you now picking up slightly, goosebumps and shivers making you shake on your spot. -Could I come in? It’s getting colder and I still have one more thing to give you.

-Another present? Greed is not a friend that one should engage with Y/N.

-It is not greed, I assure you. I did not buy it, and in truth it’s more of a necessity. – her narrowed a little but her smile never faltered, not for a minute, the lily in her hair matching the blush that painted her cheeks.

-Alright, come on in. – she took a few steps back until her heels clacked over the wooden floors of her entryway, watching as you made your way to her door carefully as not to crush any of the flowers under your feet. She would figure out tomorrow morning what to do with them all, for now, she liked to think they were simply guarding her home. You picked up quickly on the musty smell that floated in the air, clinging to the drawn curtains, darkness spreading through every room like a wildfire, a pang of sadness slamming you on the chest as you made your way to the dining room. The candles Joan had lit hours ago barely had any wax left, the flames dimming with each passing second, the lonely bottle of wine along with the half-drunk glass resting and glistening under the flickering light. You had no taste for such a drink, but it was obvious that the burgundy liquid was a common guest in Joan’s house, a hint of shame in her eyes as you looked at her over your shoulder. Carefully not to make the glass tumble and ruin both the table and the floor you left the box of doughnuts beside one of the silver candlesticks, white wax embedded in the crevasses of a swan engraved in the metal, checking that the pastries were all still intact before turning to face Joan, a bright smile on your face to overshine the downcast look that had taken her hostage.

-Wait here a moment. I’ll be right back.

Like the perfect summer breeze your perfume caressed her face as you walked past her, your hand brushing hers, fingers timidly kissing each other for an instant that ended too soon, leaving a tingling sensation on her skin that travelled like electricity up her arm to her elbow. Watching you walking back to the front door, your dress flowing around your knees, she stood in the poorly lit room, cursing herself for the way the house betrayed her and screamed silently about her state of mind, long curtains refusing to let the cold breeze of February in. Hoping you didn’t think less of her she rushed towards the closet window, pushing the heavy fabrics to the sides and unlatching the frames, pushing the glass upwards until the cold wind of the night burst in unannounced but not unwelcome. Shivers ran down her spine, but she pushed through, repeating the motion for the other two windows that were left, that stale stench she had mentally complained about not that long ago losing the fresh crisp air that was now filling the room. It wasn’t that she hadn’t cleaned the house in months, she still woke up every morning with a task to fill all those dead hours that lay ahead of her, but she had neglected certain aspects that would have clashed with her mood, the need to keep herself secluded, detained in her own home as much as she was by her mind, preventing her from enjoying the simple sight of the sunlight breaking through her front door, or basking in its warmth by the window with a hot cup of tea cradled in her hands. She had no right to such simple things after everything, she thought.

But now the room was bathed in perfect waves of silver and platinum, strings of pearly dust floating along to the sweet voices that still played on the radio, the wind that now rushed through the house kissing the flickering flames goodbye as one by one they vanished into rivulets of smoke. Standing in the doorway your eyes raked over Joan’s frame as moonlight rained over her, her deep eyes holding your gaze, sparkling under its silvery touch. Never before had a person been more beautiful than her, her blue dress like an ocean enfolding her curves, her hair shining under the glow of the pink petals that caressed her temple, the soft breeze that came from the windows kissing her skin and twirling around her like currents, transparent foam around her feet. It's you, it's you, it's all for you. Everything I do. I tell you all the time. Heaven is a place on earth with you. Words had never spoken bigger truths. All for Joan, so she would grant you entrance to the Heaven that clung to her skin, your lips begging to worship the ground she walked on, the air she breathed, the clothes she wore and hoping that one day you would be able to cross the threshold on her bedroom and lay beside her in that bed that claimed her holy body each night. With slow steps you made your way to the table once more and placed two paper bags gently over the wood, eyes never straying from her form, fighting not to blink should you miss a single thing about her.

She walked towards you, her gentle movements a sight for sore eyes, approaching you as if she hadn’t noticed the way your sight lingered on her and drank her in, and perhaps it had been so. Joan was unused to being the object of people’s affections, it would be no surprise if she had mistaken your actions for nothing more than admiration, but inside the woman’s chest, her heart slammed against her ribs with each beat, a million butterflies fluttering inside her, thanking the darkness of the room that had kept her blush at bay from your beautiful eyes. Without a word each of you worked on a bag, a comfortable silence accompanying your actions as the song carried on softly in the background, a few containers with food lay on the table after a few minutes, the delicious aroma of well-cooked and homemade dishes reaching Joan’s nose, making her mouth water as she turned to look at you, surprise and a hint of gratitude painted on her face. It had been far too long since she had had something that hadn’t been a premade meal, her constant internal battle and continuous self-sabotage leaving her drained and unable to do one of the things she loved the most. Lifting one of the lids, the smell of rosemary filled the room, her eyes as wide as saucers as slices of a rotisserie chicken stood out from under what she was sure was a delicious sauce.

-You made and brought me dinner? That’s the surprise you had for me?

-I know it’s not as grand or greedy as a night in town or a diamond necklace, but I thought this would be much better for you. I’ve made enough so that you’ll be able to eat for at least a week.

-Y/N… I… You don’t know how much this means to me. You really are a blessing. – her hands rested tenderly on your cheeks, her smile as big as the entire universe and so bright that she could light the whole house, but her palms didn’t remain on your skin for too long, and you didn’t stop her when they left a cold spot over your flesh. It was obvious things would have to be done at her pace.

-I’m happy you like it. Why don’t you bring some plates while I open the rest?

Her steps were quick as she made a beeline for the kitchen, leaving you in charge of everything else. A most exquisite sea of aromas overwhelmed the crisp air of the dining room, salty condiments along with tomato and herbs dancing in perfect unison as you placed the main dish of the night, baked parmesan chicken on a bed of angel hair pasta with green beans and roasted potatoes as sides, beside the glass of red wine. You truly hoped to steer her away from the burgundy drink before dinner started, but at the same time you didn’t wish to make her feel self-conscious about it, as if she was doing something wrong when she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. But there was no time to indulge in that train of thought as she came back with two plates and cutlery in one hand while she juggled two glasses and a pitch of water in the other. Of course, you rushed to her aid and were thanked with the sight of that tender smile she seemed to have reserved just for you.

-You really have outdone yourself.

-Thank you. I had the kitchen all to myself today, so I was able to prepare everything with all the care in the world. Where do you keep your candles?

-It’s okay, I’ll get them. – the radio rested on top of a set of drawers, Joan heading its way and pulling the first one open before returning to the table, two long white candles in her hand that she exchanged for the old ones. Just as she was about to head back to the kitchen, to get matches, you thought, your hand shot out to grab her wrist, the sudden touch making her whip her head towards you, a wary veil of confusion covering her features.

-Let me. – without letting her go, the grasp on her skin never too strong, allowing her to pry her hand away should she wish to, the fingers of your right hand touched each wick, observing happily how in less than an instant the warm light of a flame bathed the room, colliding with the cool tones that they moon cast inside the house, orange and silver fighting as they reflected on Joan’s pink cheeks. Her big eyes shone under the orange light, like melted chocolate that called out to you, her gaze glued to the candles as the flames flickered steadily, amazement hiding behind her perfect irises. You could not say that you were not proud to have rendered her speechless once again. She was no stranger to what people called magic, but the way you used it, you seemed to have a relationship, some sort of understanding of your own abilities that she had never seen before, didn’t make her feel fear anymore. She felt curious about what else you were capable of, but was too worried about you taking offense that she didn’t ask and simply basked in the beauty of such a domestic task. – Now we can eat. Are you okay Joan?

-What? Oh, yes, perfectly alright. Before we have what clearly looks like a delicious meal I was wondering if we could have one of those doughnuts you brought.

-Of course. Which letter do you fancy?

-I was thinking we could share the heart. One half for you and the other for me, if you are agreeable.

-Absolutely.       

 The cardboard made a scratching sound as you lifted the top, and with careful fingers you pried it from the parchment paper and placed it on one of the plates she had brought, the knife slicing through the middle as if it were butter, stains of pink chocolate and red jam over the metal. Joan took her half of the pastry, muttering a thank you, and slowly took a bite savouring the fluffiness of the dough and the sweetness of the chocolate, the flavour removing the bitter aftertaste the wine had left on her tongue. But the calm moment didn’t last for too long, the acidity of the jam hitting her as if she had just been run over by a car, not because it was too strong or bad, but because it was raspberry jam. She could recall as if she had done it that same morning, going down to the market with little Luke grasping her hand, holding onto her and looking up at her with his big adoring eyes, asking her if he could have some ice cream, the wicker basket she had in her other hand heavy with all the food she had bought. Every Saturday morning would be the same. She would get up and get ready for the day before heading to her son’s room, opening his teddy bear curtains so the sun could come through the window, drool falling from his mouth onto the pillow as he slept, one of his front teeth missing.

Getting him up and ready was her first task of the day, his groggy form sagging against her chest and shoulder as she picked him up and took him to the kitchen, a bowl of cereal waiting for him as she made herself a cup of coffee. She could hear his rumbling as the radio played, talking a thousand miles a minute about whatever he had done in school the previous day, mentioning his friends and teachers and speaking of how elephants were big and grey and hamster so small, cupping his tiny hands as to make his point clearer to his mom. Those morning watching him be so utterly excited about the most mundane of things lingered in her mind, memories that she had revisited so many times as her boy grew, feeling as if she was losing him, as if those moments had vanished into nothing. She would have done anything to go back to all that, to stumbling up the stairs to help him dress as she told him gently that he needed to pick up his toys, brushing his unruly hair before walking out the door with her basket, Luke trailing behind her sometimes with his fish plushie and sometimes not, her attention having to drift from the pavement to her boy and his friend Nemo. They would walk between each stall and Joan would tenderly answer and explain everything that her beautiful boy asked, not caring how many hours they spent out in the streets as long as Luke remained by her side, the warm sun rising higher and higher in the sky.

The feeling of his little fingers, soft and smooth against her palm, lingered on her skin still, as if she could look down and see him standing there with scraped knees, begging her to kiss his pain away, cheeks pink and fat tears falling from his eyes, after taking a tumble with a rock. She could almost feel him pulling on her arm as his eyes landed on his favourite stall, pounds and pounds of raspberries waiting for him, the boxes a few inches above his head. His excitement was always contagious, his toothy smile matching the one on her lips as they made their way towards the grocer. The first time he had seen them his eyes had been wide as saucers, pointing at the red fruits, amazed at the quantity and hadn’t stopped asking to have one until finally Joan had given in and bought a pound of them, knowing that even if Luke didn’t like them, she could still use them and eat them herself. He had fallen in love almost instantly and when they got home the bag had barely lasted more than a few days, so the next Saturday she had purchased more had told her boy that they would make jam with some of them as a treat for how well he was doing in school. He had been so excited that that night he had woken her up almost every hour to ask her if it was time, his thrilled tone preventing her from scolding him, strands of his hair sticking in different directions and his body dressed in a pair of yellow pyjamas with a big giraffe on his t-shirt.

A onetime thing soon became a habit, a special moment they shared every Saturday once they were done at the market, his steps jolly and bouncy as they walked down the street, Luke pointing at every single thing his curious eyes could see as if Joan wasn’t to used to them already, and she indulged him, because he was her little boy, her everything. And now she only had those, the bittersweet memories of a happy life that had turned into dust all because of her own selfish wants and needs, because she could not heal from a broken heart and let her grief and sorrow lead her in life. She had been so sure she was doing the right thing for Luke, following the scriptures her priest had provided her with, telling her that the only way Luke would grow to be the man she wanted him to be was by making sure temptation never entered her house, keeping him secluded with her and following the Lord’s teachings without question. She had not doubted that man’s words, too distraught to even consider that that was not the way, that God was love, not fear, that he was everyone’s father and loved each of his children without expecting anything in return. And yet she had followed him blindly, losing herself in the process and ruining her boy with each day that she punished him for not doing what she had been taught was right.

She had tried so hard to keep him safe, paranoid that temptation hid in every corner that she had forgotten who God was and what his son had preached, stealing Luke away from Nan as if she was the Devil herself all because she had a gift no one else she had ever met had. She had driven her son away, lost that little boy who used to fall asleep in her arms as she sang lullabies and with whom she used to make raspberry jam. The pain that crawled under her skin was beyond anything she had ever felt, as if millions of daggers were stabbing her, blood pouring out of each wound as tears fell down her cheeks, fire burning her flesh, guilt and disgust poisoning and rotting her blood in her veins. She had killed her boy, her reason for being alive, her very soul, because to her there had been no other truth but that of the “Good book”, her narrowminded thoughts having turned her into the biggest hypocrite and selfish woman she had ever known, refusing to believe her actions had been wrong until now. Her baby was gone because she hadn’t wanted him to be with someone like Nan, a girl she had called a servant of Satan, an abomination that walked the Earth, and who had taken her life now that Luke was no longer there with her. She wished to rip her skin off, to escape this agony that crushed her under its inevitable weight, but there was no way out.

How wrong she had been, her own mind betraying everything she had ever loved and cherished and turning her into a monster. How could you be there with her, speaking of love and bringing her gifts when she had killed her son? Her Luke. The name escaped from her lips as realization fell harshly over her, the fact that she was here with you, a woman, her feelings betraying everything she had ever known and been told about love, a most needed but agonising wake-up call. She had put her son through Hell in the name of a God that had forsaken her, that had abandoned her and left her in the dark when she had needed him the most, bringing forth a side of her that had not hesitated to claim her own son’s life so that the secret of her husband’s death would never be brought to light and to ensure that her perfect boy’s soul remained pure, untainted by the girl he had fallen for. How could pain be so raw, so overwhelming and vast that it caused one to want to rip their own heart from their chest? She had carried him, birthed him and held him to her as she told him that love would find him when the time was right, only to refuse him the gift of a happy life with her own bare hands. There wasn’t enough air in the entire planet for her to breathe, her throat refusing to swallow not even an ounce of oxygen, her lungs begging for it as sobs rocked her body.

A thousand emotions had rushed through her eyes the instant she had taken that first and only bite. One moment there had been the sweetest of the smiles gracing her lips and the next tears had begun to pour as her gaze became lost in a world of her own, the atmosphere clinging onto the regret and sorrow that seeped from her body. And then her son’s name had fallen from her lips and the last piece of the puzzle was finally in its rightful place. You had stood as fast as your body had allowed you and wrapped your arms around her trembling frame, the pastry forgotten on the ground by her feet. These tears were different from the ones she had shed a few moments before, they were harsh and sharp as daggers and they were accompanied by the grieving sound of a mother who no longer had a child, a mother who would never get to see her baby become an adult and have a life of his own.

-It’s alright, I’m here. I’m here.

-I… did it… Y/N… - her voice was muffled by her head hiding on your chest, hands gripping the neckline of your dress in despair.

-I know, Jo, I know.

-I didn’t… I didn’t want to… He was my baby! My only baby… - had the Devil taken reign of her senses and clouded her mind with false verses? She would have never laid a single finger on her little boy, not even to discipline him and yet she had caused him harm far too many times to count. She could not escape this pain, this feeling that she had no right to feel anything but grief, to let it consume her. Undeserving of your love and your kind words. Underserving of having you in her life, your mere existence bringing forth a happiness that she had denied to her own flesh and blood.

-I know, my darling. Let it out. There is nothing you could do that would make me leave you, so grieve. You have lost your son, there is no greater pain than that.

You had never heard a sound so frightening and yet so heartbreaking slip out of someone’s throat like the scream that was ripped from Joan’s chest. It came from so deep within her that it made her entire body shake and tremble, rattling her very soul, the sound vibrating through your skin like a thousand needles. It was blood curling and hellish in execution, so full of anger, regret, and pain that it mixed into the most agonizing sound a human could ever produce and yet should never hear. Nothing could have prepared her for the sheer emptiness that coursed through her veins, for the way she wanted to claw at her own skin to make it all stop hurting, begging in between sobs to turn back time, to return to how things had been once upon a time, when it had been her and Luke against the world. Before her mind had been poisoned by false words and her entire life had lost its meaning. She could have carried on screaming for all eternity, blood filling her lungs as she choked on her own remorse, but she was too broken to even hold the sound for too long, and after a few moments it blended back into sobs. It had been four months since she had lost the most precious thing in her little universe and it was only now that she was feeling all that anguish for the first time, all the grief slamming onto her at full force, knocking her off her feet and making her tumble and crumple to the floor.  There would be no more helping him with his math work, no more cuddling him to sleep when he was sick, no more Saturdays at the market. No more raspberry jams.

Her tired body melted slowly in your arms with each passing second, her tears pooling in the neckline of your dress leaving a cold spot on the skin underneath that the breeze was not gentle with, shivers running down your arms as it sliced through your flesh. You could not imagine what thoughts swirled in her head, what memories were haunting her as her boy’s name fell from her lips over and over, as if that simple action could bring him back, but the house remained quiet, cold, and empty, even the light of the candles seeming to have lost all its warmth as the flames flickered gently. The only sounds echoing against the bare walls, empty frames hanging over the floral wallpaper, were Joan’s sobs, or at least the only sounds you were paying attention to, rubbing comforting circles on her back as your other hand caressed her soft hair, for the radio carried on playing. I wish that Heaven had visiting hours, and I would ask them if I could take you home. The words floated around Joan’s head, begging her to listen, making a lump form in her throat as her heart bled inside her chest, the crimson liquid puddled on the floor under the shard of her completely shattered life. But a glimpse of light shone amongst all the darkness, your voice hushed and tender as you spoke the last verse of the song against her temple, the lily slightly crumpled but nevertheless beautiful.

-And I will close the door, but I will open up my heart. And everyone I love will know exactly who you are. Cause this is not goodbye; it is just 'til we meet again. So much has changed since you've been away. - An entire lifetime had happened since she had lost him, and not once, not even for an instant, had her boy left her thoughts. She almost expected still to see him walking down the hall or stealing a bite before dinner, to find him in his room playing that horrible music she despised so much as he did his homework, but he wasn’t even a ghost haunting her. She would have given her soul, as blasphemous as she knew that was, for one more day with him, to explain, to look at his face and engrave the colour of his eyes in her mind for all eternity. With tears still streaming down her face she lifted her head to gaze upon yours, a question on the tip of her tongue that she couldn’t bring herself to say. Would he forgive her if she could talk to him one last time?

-Y/N…

-What? Talk to me, Joan.

-Luke… I… Would he… - why was it so hard? Why did those words seem to weigh like a thousand rocks? Her grip was even stronger now, her eyes pleading for you to understand, to look deep inside her and pry the question from the very essence of her being so she would not crumble at your feet once again. Your voice did not hesitate to respond.

-He would. He would listen to your every word, and at first, he would be mad, furious even, but it wouldn’t be for the reasons you think. He would be angry because you were so deeply hurt, so broken, that your pain made you ask for help from people you trusted only for them to deceive you. He would not diminish your doings, and he would be upset at the extent of your own actions, but with time he would have understood that you only did it because you thought it was the right way. You are his mother and always will be, and you have repented for what you did.

-But what I did was evil, something so brutal that I fear has no possible salvation. I killed my own son, Y/N.

- “For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret”. You have walked this path alone Joan, you have grieved and cried in remorse for what you have done, and He, who cares for us all has seen it and has forgiven you. Luke would do the same, because you are his mother and he would not want to see you like this, broken and battered by your own hand.

-But I deserve it. I am no better than all those people who drove me to this point and then abandoned me.

-You are Joan, you are the most wonderful person I have ever met, and one that needs to heal from all the horrible things that have happened to you. You are free from them, from the chains that held you down with false hopes and lies dressed in empty promises, and it is that, and only that, that would make Luke forgive you. You are deserving of love, and you must not think that your little boy would not be thrilled to have the mother he so loved back in his arms. “Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy”.

Your words, coupled with the tender, caring tone you used soothed her pain like nothing had ever before, and for the first time in years, she felt as if she could breathe, as if the air filling her lungs wasn’t rotten anymore. She would be forgiven. Her precious baby boy wouldn’t look at her like she was the worst human in history, pointing accusingly at her while telling her that it was all her fault, that she had brought this agony onto herself. There was hope for her to find happiness once again, to let the gentle rays of sunlight burst through her windows and for her to not run away as if her skin would blister at the feeling, the warm light bathing her house, the silence that had settle so deeply in each beam and wall fading as the sound of birds chirping and voices coming from the street filled each room. Her eyes glistened under the flames, orange and yellow tinges caressing her perfect chocolate irises, so full of hope and dreams she had not even dared to think about before, tears no longer falling but leaving wet paths over her cheeks. With a tender touch your thumbs wiped them away, and with that motion, your fingers ripped the weight that had been crushing her from her flesh, guilt and shame fading into acceptance and understanding as her penitence ended. She had taken accountability for her actions and in return she had been granted a second chance. She had been gifted with your presence and your love.

This time she didn’t let go of you, not caring if your face was only inches from hers, if she could breathe your sweet perfume, a blend of berries and vanilla, deep within her, its soft tendrils enfolding her essence the same way your hands were cradling her face. It would have been so easy to kiss her, to brush your lips against hers, but if you were going to do this, if you were going to walk this path with her, hand in hand, you could wait until she was sure, until her body spoke to you and asked in a silent plea for your touch. The radio was silent for a moment, only the sound of Joan’s sniffles filling up the room, her warmth seeping under your skin, and in an instant her hands released your dress, disappointment crossing your eyes, only to be delighted and surprised as she place her palms over the back of your hands, her heat wrapping around you like a blanket, shielding you from the cold that was breaking through the windows. At that moment in time, there was nothing but Joan and the blossoming lily in her hair, no past, no future, just her. Joan, wrap me up in all your, I want you in my arms.

Her hands were in yours, and with a gentleness she could not get used to you lifted her from her seat, pulling her body away from the table and into an empty spot where the carpet covered the wooden floors. Coming to stand next to the windows she let you do whatever you wanted, take her to the ends of the world if you so desired, because under the silvery beams that swayed in the night, she knew she would give you everything you asked from her as long as you never stopped looking at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Your hands guided hers to your shoulders, her fingers feeling the cotton of your dress around your neck, strands of your soft hair teasing her knuckles as your arms snaked around her waist, the gap between you vanishing as each of your bubbles became one, you in her personal space and Joan in yours, no fear or reservations clouding her mind. Oh, let me hold you. I'll never let you go again like I did. Never would you leave her, never would she have to face the world on her own, never would you let her go as long as your body drew breath, and your soul belonged to her. Slowly your feet began to sway from side to side, Joan’s frame molded to yours and following suit, her gaze never straying from your enchanting eyes.

Dancing lazily with her made your little heart leap with joy, a petal suddenly falling all the way from the tall ceiling, oscillating gently as its pristine white colour shone under the moonlight, blending into the same shade of pink Joan’s lily wore as it touched the ground. Then another fell as you pulled her closer, her chest against yours, her fingers twirling your hair in between them as the palms of your hands held onto her waist, a soft touch of sandalwood reaching your nostrils as her hair brushed against your check, her head coming to rest on your right shoulder. Her chin dug gently onto your flesh over the cotton of your white dress, her eyes watching in amazement at the way the room filled with the floral aroma of roses, petal after petal filling the room, a most perfect sight to match a most perfect you. A couple of flower leaves soon turned into a gentle shower of them, dozens swaying in the chilly breeze as the two of you danced, the top of her head resting against your cheek, the moonbeams never faltering in its glow, the flickering flames never ceasing to shower the room with their warmth as a sea of petals laid at your feet. In your arms Joan came to one last conclusion: God had never forsaken her, he had seen her lost in the dark and had sent you to her, to guide her and love her the way she had never been before, to return her to the right path with you by her side, her son’s forgiveness her banner and your love her shield. From now and for all eternity.  I would never fall in love again until I found her. I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into".

[justourimaginations]

Missed you (Colter Shaw x Fe!Reader)

Summary: You have been travelling with Colter for a few weeks. Your relationship is still relatively new. Colter comes back to the trailer after finishing a job, and you're waiting for him.

Trigger Warnings: mentions of wounds and bruises

just a short fluff one really :) I'm not a native speaker so excuse any mistakes. Also if you like this, feel free to send me any requests.

about 480 words

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You were sprawled out over the bench seat of the Airstream, your laptop on your lap. Through the window headlights lit up the trailer, and you peeked outside to see the black GMC pull up. You smiled and put your laptop on the table, getting up to greet Colter. The door to the trailer opened, and Colter stepped in, giving you a smile when he saw you walking up to him.

“Hey gorgeous” he said and let the door fall shut behind him, preoccupied with pressing his lips on yours. “Brought some food.” He held up a paper bag.

“Good, I’m starving” you replied and took it from him so he could undress. You watched him peel off his jacket, pulling a face.

“What did you get into this time?” you asked worried and walked over to him, leaving the food on the counter, ready to inspect his wounds.

“It’s just a little cut and a few bruises” he shrugged it off.

“Yeah right, let me help you” You rolled your eyes and ran your hands under his shirt to help him take it off. He had a small cut on his abs and a bunch of bruises on his chest and back. He also had a bruise on his cheekbone that had already turned purple. He watched you closely as you cleaned the cut and put a band-aid on it, moving on to inspecting the bruises.

“What is it?” you raised a brow at his smirk.

“Nothing” he shrugged, “I’m just not used to someone being here to take care of me.”

“Well, you better get used to it, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere” you smiled.

“I sure hope so” Colter replied, his gaze soft and loving, making your heart flutter. You could just melt at the way he was looking at you. He leaned in but let you close the final distance, his way of asking for consent to kiss you. His lips were soft and instantly started moving against yours. You smiled into the kiss, your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles flex, as he pulled you closer. You pulled away, leaving him pouting a little.

“I want to eat this before it gets cold” you nodded at the take-out he had brought and went to put it on plates. Colter sighed and put a fresh shirt on, while you placed the plates on the table and took a beer out of the fridge for him.

You could feel him creep up behind you, as you placed the beer on the table. His arms wrapped around your waist and his lips lightly caressed your neck.

“I missed you” he hummed, his breath tickling your skin.

“You’ve only been gone for like 12 hours” you chuckled, turning around to face him.

“That’s too long” he pouted and once again pressed his lips onto yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck and returned his kiss.

[demon-country]

I'm kind of surprised that this isn't a more common opinion, but I really do think that Blitz started coming over way more often than just the full moon for sex and also that he started staying the whole night as time went on. Like, even if you want to claim that Stolas doesn't love Blitz, he only loves the idea of being loved - which I highly disagree with - Blitz ain't that kinda person. He doesn't catch feelings after only like, what, 12-ish days spent having marathon long sex, and a couple of times spent being vaguely together in public? Ain't no way, Blitz is too guarded for that, and even though BDSM breeds a lot of trust just by virtue of it being about trust more than it is about sex, there's no way those things alone would make Blitz start to fall in love enough that he lists Stolas among the people he doesn't want to live without and die alone, or enough to do literally all of The Full Moon and Apology Tour.

On Stolas' phone there is also a picture of a horse that Blitz drew, laid on Stolas' bed, showing that Blitz felt comfortable enough at Stolas' palace and in Stolas' company that he was willing to draw Stolas a horse. That speaks of intimacy, that speaks of familiarity, and that speaks of trust that Blitz would share something he loves doing with Stolas. It also speaks of them having the time to do things other than sex when he comes over.

Now, to be fair, Blitz himself says that Stolas liked to do things like call him a lot to ask about his day and whatnot, and liked his sinstagram posts all the time. And while their now-defunct official Instagram posts aren't strictly canon, Viv did say that the stuff there was true to what the characters might do. So if we take what Blitz said in Oops and applied it to something Blitz posted on his sinstagram account, then Blitz used to book out an entire hour on his daily schedule just to talk on the phone with Stolas. Spending an hour or even half an hour almost every single work day for around a year and regularly talking on sinstagram is definitely significant and would also foster familiarity and plant the seed that Stolas does care for him, even if Blitz's self-hatred and Stolas' more unfortunate comments prevented him from truly believing it.

But I don't think it'd stop with that. Sex is the only way Blitz feels he can really spend time together with Stolas, and it's the only thing he knows for certain that Stolas wants from him and is always down for. If he was catching feelings - and Ozzie's, The Full Moon, and Apology Tour all show that he most definitely was -, he'd start desiring to be around Stolas more often, which would almost definitely lead to him making excuses to come over and have sex.

Of course, he couldn't just admit that even to himself, so he probably would have excused it to himself as something like being too busy to find someone else to sleep with. Oh you know he's just so busy with work and taking care of Loona, and going out to find a fling when he has a perfectly willing booty call he can go see basically whenever he wants is just way less convenient. Why put in the extra work finding someone he's interested in when Stolas is a smoking hot great lay who's down to do pretty much anything and everything? Not that it means anything though! He could totally go get someone else if he wanted to, he just... doesn't. Because he's too busy for that, of course.

And why go to some rando's place if he's just gonna have to get up and leave right after? With Stolas he can stay the night in a giant ass, comfy as fuck bed (with a super soft, super snuggly bird. Uh, not that he cares about that though! It's certainly not like he's touch starved or anything, haha no of course not that'd be crazy! >_>), and in the morning if he sticks around long enough he can either get another round in or some fancy brand coffee.

Like, that's all just an example of how he might explain it to himself, but however he actually did, I'm of the opinion that he used to not stay the night, but most of the time by the end of it he did. Blitz doesn't fall quickly, but once he does he falls hard, and given how desperately he clings to Stolas in The Full Moon and Apology Tour, I'm not sure if he'd be able to stop himself from spending whatever time he could make excuses for with Stolas. The only reason he doesn't post-Ozzie's is because of Stolas' supposed rejection and, after Western Energy, because he feels unworthy of it and is scared of what his perceived failure to protect Stolas might have changed.

That's how I see it, anyway. But I guess it's a pretty unpopular opinion? This got way longer than I thought it would...

[sofixt0k]

If we are right, and we are, I believe in Byler because I was both.

I was Mike, I wasn't thinking about love until the girls around me stopped playing hide and seek and started talking about boys. Until they started asking me if I liked any boy. And I felt completely out of place with them, so I invited a love interest from a city where I had relatives, so I could tell them about him and seem normal. I was never homophobic, but I didn't think I could be gay until I was Ten (I invented this whole boy thing when I was eight/nine). I also started to act totally stupid for not being myself, I was an idiot when I was 11/12, I know I was pathetic, I wasn't myself, I was still trying to be normal in everyone's eyes. And it wasn't just about pretending to have feelings for boys anymore, it was about pretending that I didn't like certain things, like video games, youtubers, music, clothes, definitely... I thank the pandemic, because without it I would never (or maybe I would have arrived too late) have my moment to be with myself and find what I want.

And I was also Will, the fact that I realized at age 14 that maybe (definitely) I had feelings for my ex-best friend that I had from the age of five to eleven. How did it get to a point where I started to get stressed out because everyone around me only talks about love and there are only couples (maybe I'm still stuck in this and it still makes me feel out of place). As I literally said the same sentence "I'm not going to fall in love." ( I don't remember exactly if it was like that, sorry ), As I have also complained to certain people like Will did with Mike in s3/s4, and that my complaints NEVER had to do with love, what always mattered most to me was friendship. I've always felt like an oddball, and it's weird, you know? I've already graduated, I'm starting university this year, and at school I always got the best grades, the teachers loved me and I laughed with some colleagues, but that doesn't stop me from always, and maybe still... feeling like a mistake.

Sometimes it's inevitable not to want Byler to be endgame when I often see myself in them, in some way I hate anti-Byler when they say it's nonsense because I feel like they discredit me too.

I have suffered bullying, I have received homophobic comments, I have been teased for being a nerd, but I have long since accepted the fact that I was born to do it. I have let myself be consumed by my problems and thoughts and that has ruined me, since I do not talk about things with others (Mike) and I am disinterested with my feelings, and I only seek well-being of those I love (Will).

So yeah, I'm mad at the obsessive milkvans who hate the Bylers. There is already a LOT of "normal" straight teen content out there for you to relate to.

Stranger Things is literally about WEIRD THINGS, nerdy people, rejected people, people with family problems, people with personal problems, gays, machismo, heteronormality...

Byler is not about wanting two men to kiss and get married and adopt blah blah, it's not a fetish.

This is about a story. Byler is about being a Story. A story that many of us on the margins, including myself, can relate to.

And a story that will go down in history (excuse the redundancy), being portrayed as one of the most realistic versions of what "fitting in" and being "normal" means.

[aforeffective]

my headcanons of the socs' families, as created by me at 12:30 am instead of sleeping

(remember that these are just my personal headcanons so even if you disagree with me, please be respectful) (also some characters have less than others, i apologize about that. i promise i love all of them)

this is long so its below the cut.

trigger warning for bad parenting ig? basically it is exactly the level you would expect in the outsiders. there is not graphic explanations of abuse but definitely insinuations

marcia meyrink-mariani

her parents are great and they love her very much and she is their pride and joy

BUT her parents both grew up in lower-income families

they both grew up to have successful careers so they were able to get from like lower-middle class to like upper middle class

and both of her parents are pressured by their own parents to work to keep the status of the family because they want to see marcia get what they could never provide their kids

so her parents and her grandparents all love her very much and have great intentions

but now they are unintentionally kinda neglectful just because they are ALWAYS at work, so that they are able to provide marcia with everything she could ever want

i do think she is very close to her parents when they are actually home though

and because of their pasts of growing up in lower-income families, they aren't as judgmental as the other west side families, hence why marcia isn't as against two-bit and the greasers as her friends are

they liked her relationship with trip but they are also very supportive when she breaks up with him and begins dating two-bit

last name headcanon: meyrink-mariani. meyrink is her mom's maiden name while mariani is her dad's last name.

beverly jitney-bush

her mom is absolutely a toxic pageant/ballet mom (yes bev does pageants and ballet) (or at least she did when she was younger)

her dad is always "gone at work" but both bev and her mom know that he's with his girlfriend (who is probably controversially younger than him. like not too badly to the point where its close to bev's age/being illegal. but definitely like 5-10 years younger than him)

like this is a well known fact. everyone knows that he's cheating but her mom never acknowledges it so everyone else just kinda ignores it

due to the ballet and pageant stuff, bev's mom is very controlling when it comes to her health and her body

bev tries to spend a lot of time at brill's house to escape her mom's control but her mom will find excuses to keep her at home

bev hates both of her parents and honestly just wishes her dad would run off with his girlfriend so that she'd at least only have to deal with one bad parent

cherry valance

okay so she's the only one that has canon family info in the musical so we're going to build off of that

her dad is an alcoholic and not great to cherry or her mom

high school "sweethearts" but not in the same way as brill's parents. brill's parents stayed together cause they love each other. cherry's parents stayed together cause her mom felt obligated

when i was coming up with it, my brain kept thinking of daisy from the great gatsby; how she married tom because she had lost hope of running into gatsby again and then the whole "beautiful little fool" thing and that is definitely how cherry's mom felt when she was pregnant with cherry

and i think because she knows cherry has grown up to not "be a fool", she pushes cherry towards bob in hopes that cherry won't get herself into trouble

due to this daisy comparison, i'm going to say that cherry's dad was probably her mom's second love but she never truly got over her first love

cherry def read the great gatsby and just felt so depressed by daisy because it is literally her mom

i'm going to say that cherry's mom doesn't work so she is home with cherry but she's never really bothering with her. she'd rather hire a nanny to deal with cherry as a kid, and then just lets cherry watch herself as she gets older

bob sheldon

his parents are so neglectful

they just do not have the time (or the want) to care about him

he could be sitting next to them at the dinner table being like "yeah i murdered 30 people and now cherry and i are gonna drop out and go on the run together and get hitched" and they'd be completely not listening like "oh wow, that's nice honey"

he acts out in hopes of getting his parents' attention (iirc randy says this in the book) but even then they literally just do not care

he'll come home to an empty house with a note on the counter that just says 'your problem is dealt with, be smarter next time'

they literally just do not care enough to lecture him or acknowledge him causing trouble

i hc that they also barely even acknowledged him post his death either and cherry had to pressure them to plan the funeral (and she had to do a lot of the work for them) (despite being literally a teenager) (and doing this while dealing with her own grief and also the fallout of all of her friendships)

paul holden

his parents literally only care about him when it comes to what he does for their reputation

as long as he gets good grades, does well on the football team, and can attend fancy business dinners with them and make the family look good, they do not care about anything else he does

they definitely taught him that as long as he does the above, they will throw money to make any problems he has go away

which definitely screwed with both his sense of right and wrong and also just how he views love in general

i view his parents as people who were in love before but don't really care for each other any more but refuse to get divorced (again, all they care about is their reputation to the other wealthy west side families)

so paul has a very toxic view on what love is

and they also taught him nothing about handling emotions

so he is soooo bad with his emotions

his parents definitely having screaming matches at each other a lot

he has definitely snuck out in the middle of the night and went and slept at one of the guys' house because his parents wouldn't stop screaming and he needed sleep

chet baker

chet's parents are not great

his dad is a cop (this is inspired by skyforcherry's chet headcanons because i just love the idea of one of the boys' fathers being on the police force and being one of the people investigating bob's death)

he has two older sisters but they have moved out and gotten married and begun their own families

chet's mom loves chet but when he was a kid, whenever she would do anything for him, chet's dad would yell at her for "spoiling" him and saying that it is emasculating that chet needs a woman's help doing everything (despite the fact that this is literally just a child wanting to spend time with his mom)

chet was also very close with his sisters as a kid, until his dad made him feel bad about it, saying he needed to stop acting like one of the girls

so yeah, his mom and his sisters could barely do anything for chet without his dad complaining that they were making him girly and "messing him up" (not for lack of wanting to. they do love him but their husband/dad can be scary when he's angry) (he's not outright physically abusive but definitely threatens that he would 'be able to get away with it' when he's angry)

so the only people in his house that he can really get attention from is his dogs, but even then his dad will find excuses about how depending on animals for companionship isn't manly

when he is home, chet's dad will be very nitpicky about everything he does. if chet does anything wrong or just in a way he doesn't like, there will be yelling

and he will poke and prod until chet finally reacts and yells back

and then chet's mom will begin crying because she just hates the yelling and fighting

and then chet will feel bad so he'll stop arguing back and just let his dad yell

and after a few minutes, his dad will stop and chet is just so tired of this because it is a cycle where his dad will do this and then apologize and be like "i didn't mean to get that mad, i didn't mean to set off your mother, let's both apologize to her"

and then they do this all over again a few days later (over such minor things)

because of this, chet has learned to avoid home unless he feels like being alone, in which case he'll lock himself in his room with his dogs and avoids interactions with his parents to avoid argument

terrence "trip" dipp

trip lives with his parents, his aunt, and his cousin (melvin)

his uncle passed away, leaving his aunt widowed with a young son so they moved in with trip's family (it was his dad's brother)

trip honestly doesn't interact with his parents much

they're fine. they work, they come home, they all eat together as a family, and then everyone splits off to do their own things

his dad can definitely be harsh, especially to his sister-in-law and he has definitely been caught complaining about having to deal with this "random kid" living in his house (aka his nephew)

trip is very close with his aunt

the reason she moved in is because she has some sort of chronic illness that causes her to get sick a lot, which was only made worse after her husband died

so she moved in to get help with her illness and melvin

it was trip's mother's idea and trip's father only agreed out of respect for his now deceased brother

trip acts annoyed by melvin but he has grown to care for him as a brother (but he would never admit it)

clark "brill" brillstein

okay imo his parents are the best of all the socs' parents

they were high school sweethearts that got married (and pregnant with brill) like within the summer after graduation

because of this, they're younger than the other parents. the others all are in their 40s, having had their kids in their 20s but brill's parents are only like 36

they are THE parents of the group. if any of brill's friends need anything, whether it's just advice or someone to talk to, literally anything, they go to brill's parents. he has come home to every single one of his friends talking to his parents before. it is a common occurrence.

such a healthy family dynamic

yes they love brill's friends and want to act as their parents but they will never let brill feel sidelined to his friends because of their attention