#and sometimes I feel like I don't talk about him enough

[ts-janus-rp-blog]

"You're welcome." Remus smiled then nodded, "Sounds good! If you ever feel differently let me know. Or if you want anything else done to your body. I'll happily pay for any of the surgeries. Mhm... Can't agree with you more. Flesh is gross sometimes. Mhm, that's true, but it could make you feel somewhat better. That's true!" He kissed emiles shoulder, "And I think it's adorable, no matter what you do." He nods, then he works down to emiles hips and his stomach. "Yeah... Mhm... You have the cutest stomach, do you know that? You're not too skinny, but not too big either. You've got a little bit of chub to make it adorable." He kissed his stomach.

"There are chances that he doesn't care. But I won't count on it, is all I'm saying. He may want Roman off the hook now that he's got Roman 2.0, I guess you could say." The man leaned back in his chair as Virgil watched the video. "Nope. They keep mentioning him, and yet...they're not doing a single thing to save him. It's like theyre talking about a ghost, or someone that's already dead. Hm, personally Roman is more my type, I like Romans big shoulders. But I see what you two see in this ex. Hm... That's a possibility... Especially since I'll be sending the dogs to this address, so it's clear that you know where they are. So you could, theoretically, kill the ex very easily. He may take that as a real possible threat..."

The man snorted, "Aw, I would've liked to have seen Roman in a ring gag, shoot. But I would've loved to have seen Romans face as he realized you were serious and he had to wear it." He chuckled, "I bet it was priceless. Oh?" The man leaned over to see the photo, only to chuckle even more at seeing it. "Oh, yeah, that's perfect. It's like he's made for those sort of outfits! He's adorable! Can I show that to the boys? I bet they'll fight over each other to get their hands on the photo."

"I bet he would. Ah, yeah, if you don't condition him enough he would cry the first time you do it. Judging by how loudly the mutt protested when they arrived, you may have him on your ass too. Mhm, smart. Gotta condition his mind to associate you with love and pleasure. Give him a sort of... Stockholm syndrome sort of thing. He's gonna look very cute with a big tummy, I bet. Oh, before you get to that point, would you want me to do a full checkup on him? Just to make sure he's healthy? You don't want him to be sick when he's pregnant, after all."

"Well, for Roman it won't be much harm to him. I'll do it the most humane way for him. As for the mutt..." The man chuckled darkly, "Who really cares about him, really? Let's just say... It's going to be so extreme that there won't be a way to reverse the process. He'll be a permanent doll for the rest of his life. But, again, who really cares? As for Roman... I'll do it how some therapists do it, just hypnotizing him. It may take some time, but he won't know the difference by the end of it. Also, if you want, later down the line, I could make Roman a hybrid. That way if he ever does escape..." He chuckled, "Everyone will just treat him as property, as your official property. Won't that be fantastic?"

Patton knocked desperately at the strangers door, praying someone, anyone was home. His heart beat as fast and loud as the rain thundering against the sidewalk. He was sure he was being followed, they were going to catch him. They were going to drag him back. He wasn't sure if whoever lived here might be worse, but he was willing to risk it at this point. Anything to escape.

{@moralpuppylover2}

Janus didn't know who would be at the door. It was late, but his master won't surely be home at this time. He normally doesn't get home until the sun starts to come up.

So, as the dog hybrid walked up to the door and opened it, he wondered who it could be. And if he should open it at all... Who knows, he may get in trouble with his master for opening the door. But, his curiosity was getting the better of him-

He stopped when he saw the soaking wet cat standing at the doorway. He could tell that this cat needed help almost immediately. Well, if his poor state of clothes were anything to go by. His eyes flickered up and down the sidewalk before he grabbed pattons arm and pulled him inside.

"are you alright?" Janus nervously asked as he grabbed a towel from the mud room. "Well, that's a stupid question, of course you're not alright! Are you...running away from your owners?" As Janus walked, the collar around his neck would jingle loudly. And even though it was cold outside and even in the house, he only had a pair of boxers on. Because of that, Patton would be able to see the numerous large scars that covered his body...and the countless amounts of fresh bruises.

@moralpuppylover2

[dante-mightdie]

long awaited part three of lowselfesteem!reader and simon

part two

invisible clothes

that’s what you called them, the rags you don when you have to integrate with the general population but you would much rather not be noticed. clothing that is so bland that it isn’t nice enough catch an eye but not hideous enough to catch any negative attention

you had told simon about them once, when he called you out on wearing them every time you stepped out in public, including your dates with him. especially since he knew you had a very elaborate wardrobe with a tailored sense of style

clearly they aren’t invisible enough to hide you from johnny’s guilty eyes from across the store aisle. you sigh when he comes up to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. he shifts uncomfortably on his feet

“I know ye probably hate ma guts, lass but ye should ken that simon shut down all of that bet talk after your first date. Ah just bring et up to annoy ‘im.” johnny says, with a nervous chuckles at the end. you don’t laugh alongside him

“okay, fair enough. look, he’s miserable without ye! he comes to the pub just to get pished and mope about how he fucked it all up with ye.” johnny continues, a pleading look in his eyes, “he’s supposed to he coming by to drop off some things of yours tomorrow. just hear him out, please, lass.”

you roll your eyes at him, continuing to grab what you need from the shelves in front of you. not even bothering to look him in the eyes when you finally begin to speak

"why should I? why am I always expected to think of other people even when they hurt me? you and simon didn't think about me or my feelings when you made your stupid bet. neither of you stopped to consider that I was just a person who simply wanted to be left alone." you say with a scoff, "he'll be lucky if I don't slam the door in his face."

johnny shifts on his feet, looking down at the floor since he feels too uncomfortable to look directly at you, "fair enough. take care've yerself, hen."

you bite back tears as you watch him skulk off in the corner of your eye. you stand there for a few more minutes, staring at the stacked shelves in front of you to distract you from the war raging inside of your head

-

it's late at night, nearly midnight, when there's a knock at your door. you let out a sigh, already knowing who was disturbing your doomscrolling at this hour. and when you open the door, you see him. you’re brooding prick of an ex-boyfriend. he at least has the decency to look guilty, like a dog caught ripping up the couch cushions

except he wasn’t a dog, he was the love of your life. and your heart isn’t so easily replaced like a cushion. though he definitely treated it like somewhere to rest his head

“hey.”

you scoff, you’re not sure why. there isn’t anything inherently wrong with what he said but it still annoyed you. he annoyed you. with his stupid stormy eyes and his stupid jokes and freckled shoulders that you used to connect like dots late at night

“just give me my stuff and go, simon. don’t have time for this bullshit.”

he doesn’t flinch. he saw that hit coming, and sometimes you gotta let them swing at you especially when you know that you deserve much worse

the exchange is quick, a box with small memories passed over to you. a couple items of clothing, a book and some toiletries. before you can slam the door in his face, he jams his heavy boot into it

“wait… love, I… there’s somethin’ else. I never gave it to you but it’s yours. got it for you and I’ll never give it to anyone else.”

the glare you give him only falters when he places a small velvet box in your hand, he pauses the speech you can definitely feel coming on. looking at you expectantly to open it. you do, waiting for him to laugh at you when you find nothing in there. ridicule you for even thinking he would consider making you his wife

but all he does it look on solemn, the beautiful ring twinkling as a devastating reminder of what could have been

“I kno�� I ‘ave no right to ask. I wouldn’t insult you like tha’ lovie. you can hate me, I deserve it. but you don’t deserve it. I won’t let you hurt yourself over what I did. you deserve to know the real extent of how bad I fucked up. maybe it’ll help to look at tha’ ring and know that I’ll spend the rest of my life having to know I lost the woman who should be my wife.”

there’s no chance to respond, not like you’d know what to say anyway,

“I’m sorry.”

and then he’s gone.

[slimybeth69]

Part 3- Your People

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

w/c~ 8k

content warnings: Reader (no descriptions besides having hair that can be pulled) is in a weird mindset; hears voices, talks to herself. non-con/dub-con (if you're looking for enthusiastic consent, ya wont find it here) smut, cock-warming, unprotected P in V, creampies, oral (m&f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, pussy and peen pronouns, alcohol consumption (altered mental state). Joel wears a shock collar and other various horrible things that would keep him in check-- and he doesn't fucking like it.

Reader warning- While it looks real pretty, this is a Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. If ya do and then come complaining to me that you ate a dead dove-- I'm gonna fight you. I warned you. I'm coming from a place of love and respect for my readers who have ever gone through anything traumatic and maybe don't want to relive that, it's in here. I try and do it tastefully and respectfully in the best way, i'll mark it with a lil divider where you can skip the part I'm worried about. it's smut but it's sad. There is your warning. I love you.

You gotta sleep, kid. You need it.

Mister-J looks so warm and comfortable… go on and crawl in beside him.

He does look so comfortable and inviting, especially from your spot just out of his reach if you were to fall asleep. His chest rises and falls slowly as he breathes in his sleep. It’s memorizing, and almost hypnotic enough to make you forget all of your fears— forget all of the things that made laying next to him with his arms around you physically excruciating.

S’okay, Baby. You’ll get there, it’ll get easier ‘n he won’t seem so big ‘n scary anymore.

There is a reason he seems big and scary, kid. Your gut is telling you not to trust him, so don’t.

Oh, stop it. If he wanted to kill her, he would have— he would have done it by now. He’s big ‘n strong— he could, and he hasn’t.

That sweet, soft voice does have a good point…

Doesn’t mean he isn’t waiting for a better opportunity.

The dark, serious voice has a point too…

This always happens, the voices say things that conflict one another, but they both have a point. They both make sense but never about the same thing. And they argue. And they’re loud. It’s only when you need them, that you really, really want them to say something that they are quiet.

The little flashlight that had been attached to the backpack Mister-man—

Joel… he has a name. He’s a real person, kid.

You flick the flashlight off quickly so it’s dark again.

Mister-mans, Mister-J… Joel… it don’t matter none, Sugar. He’s yours, and you can call him whatever you want.

You flick the light back on so you can watch him sleep. It’s incredible how calm he is, and how he fell asleep as soon as you laid down next to him after saying he couldn’t sleep.

Sometimes that happens to you though, sometimes you need to touch yourself, and make yourself squirm and moan and come, and then sleep finds you. Sometimes the whiskey puts you to sleep before you even have the desire to do that to yourself.

Whatever Mister-J did with his tongue was so much better than your fingers, wasn’t it?

It most definitely was. It was probably the most incredible feeling you’ve ever experienced. Not that you hadn’t ever experienced it before, but this time…it was soft, gentle— and you wanted it more than anything. That made it feel even fucking better, how badly you wanted to sit down on Mister-mans face and grind down onto his mouth.

He was making out with your cunt. Deep, long, tongue swirling kisses. He would open and close his mouth, and suck. He would lick and lap at all spots you didn’t even know could make you feel good.

When you would take his cock deep in your throat and gag on it, he would moan- loudly-and the vibrations from that were like earthquakes, they touched parts inside of you that were left unexplored by anyone before Mister.

He was perfect.

The idea of laying your head down on his big, muscular bicep was nice until you were actually doing it, and then everything about it felt foreign. It was like sleeping too close to the fire, surrounded by too many blankets.

You had gotten so used to sleeping alone, that the feeling of someone next to you didn’t feel right anymore. It made you sad and you’re not entirely sure why.

So that’s why you’re here on the floor and not snuggled up against Mister-man. It’s like the universe played some cruel joke on you- and you got your favorite food but when you bite into it, it’s rancid.

But your fingers twitch toward him anyway—like roots in dirt searching for water. His arm is right there. His breath is slow and steady.

Go on. He’s warm as fresh bread.

You shift an inch closer.

Dangerous as a snake in the grass.

But his skin smells like leather and sweat and you want to taste him again. Want to run your tongue from the tip of his cock, to the spot just in front of his ear that makes him sigh when you kiss him there.

Crawling—quiet like scared prey— you move until your face hovers over his chest. His shirt rides up just enough to show a scar on his perfectly doughy stomach. And another on his rib cage. It looks newer, still old enough to be a scar, but pink instead of white.

You wonder if it aches when he breathes. If that’s the reason his voice sounds like gravel sometimes.

He’ll crush you.

He’ll hold you.

It sounds like a song the way the sweet voice says it.

You touch the scar with your pinky finger, feather-light—and he doesn’t stir. But then he sighs—a rumble deeper than thunder—and your guts twist.

You scramble back, heart slamming against the back of your throat.

The sweet voice clucks at you.

You’re spooking yourself. 

You’re alive because you spook.

The flashlight rolls under your knee when you shift—plastic clattering loud enough to wake dead things—and Mister’s brow tightens. For one gut-drop second, his eyes flicker open, staring up at you, before he grunts and turns onto his side, back to you now.

He’s mad again? How, and why? What did you do wrong? You had done everything right.

You keep poking that bear and you’re going to get mauled, kid.

He ain’t mad…look’it his hands, Sugar.

They’re not balled up into fists, they’re relaxed. His whole body is. Everything about him seems so at peace.

Your stomach growls loud enough to wake the dead. It’s been a while since you’ve eaten— and then you only had half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and some whiskey.

Joel’s boot shifts with a dry scrape of leather—and your lungs forget how air works. But he just mumbles something that sounds like “goddamn horse” with his face smushed against the pillow.

Mister-J talks in his sleep? He’s precious.

He is. It’s hard to contain the feeling in your chest when he sighs loudly, rolling onto his stomach, curling his arms under the pillow.

Instead of trying to face your fears of crawling into bed with him and falling asleep next to someone else, you crawl on your hands and knees back to the chair across the room. The whiskey bottle is still tucked between the cushion where you left it.

--

Even with almost half of a bottle of whiskey in you, your eyes won’t close. You only know what time it is because the soft whir of the solar powered generator kicks on, and the singular lamp in the corner flicks to life. It’s dark outside now. 

The electric hum from the bulb makes your skin crawl, and your head buzz.

Part of you feels bad for keeping Mister down here like this. He doesn’t even know what time it is, he’ll probably wake up soon, getting ready to start the day. You wonder if he misses the sun, if he ever walked barefoot in the grass and if he misses that feeling too.

When you weren’t allowed outside, you missed the sun. You missed the grass between your toes. You missed being able to jump into the river and swim around with your brother whenever you wanted. There were a lot of things you missed when you weren’t allowed to go outside.

Unscrewing the whiskey cap, you take a swig and relish in the way it burns. It drowns out the voices, but it doesn’t dull the ache between your legs— the memory of his mouth makes you shift in the soft recliner.

In the soft, pale light spilling into the room from behind the aged, yellow lampshade, you can see Mister-J… and how excited he is. He’s on his back, shirt riding up over his stomach again, the bulge in his sweatpants clear as day now.

There is a new voice you’ve never heard before, and it’s not saying anything— only screaming. Loud, and high pitched. It’s excruciating. It’s the only thing you hear now, not even the sound of your own voice telling you what to do, or what to think or say.

When you stand, the whiskey sloshes between your temples. It makes you sway and almost lose your balance, but you press your hand to a support beam that juts out of the floor and into the ceiling.

Heavy, clumsy, limping feet and a swollen ankle carry you to Mister-J.

His cock is hard and heavy in your hand and he tastes just like he did last night. He stirs under your touch—a low groan vibrating through clenched teeth—and your pussy tightens around nothing. Mister arches his hips up against your slow moving fist, trying to fuck your hand momentarily before stilling and settling back down into the mattress. His eyes are still shut tight beneath furrowed eyebrows.

It’s pathetically cute how bad he wants this. How badly he needs it.

The screaming inside your head morphs into static.

Your fingers rub slow circles over damp fabric between your legs while your rib cage starts to feel like a hive of wasps. Everything inside of you is buzzing as you lean over and swirl your tongue around the ridge of his cock.

Wrong.

That dark voice sounds like it’s coming through the static like old radio stations.

You pull your hand away from Mister-J's cock and cover your face with it, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill. This is all wrong, all of it.

S’right. It’s all right.

The static transmutes into tornado sirens.

Your hand finds his cock again and it throbs in your grasp. There is no hesitation when you take him into your mouth with a gentleness you didn’t know you possessed when you’re this intoxicated. Delicate movements and laps of your tongue along his shaft make him moan softly, still slumbering.

Salt and musk take over your senses as he pulses against your tongue—wanting even in his unconsciousness. Your throat spasms around him as you gag, tears hot on your lashes. One hand brushes against his thigh as you move to steady yourself on the mattress while the other slips into your own waistband. Two fingers slide into you with no resistance. You’re so wet that you almost feel embarrassed.

Inside.

The sweet voice sings to you over the cacophony going on inside your head.

Mister’s hips jerk again, involuntary, desperate. A string of saliva connects your lip to his cock when you pull back to breathe. The room tilts—whiskey and shame on your tongue—but you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not when his thighs were trembling just a moment ago.

After kicking your shorts off, you climb on top. Mister feels so hot pressed up against your cunt. Yours and his breath catch in your throats when you sink down into his lap. Your eyes close to hide from the stretch that burns in a slippery, and shameful way.

The wasps behind your ribs sharpen their stingers as you slowly start to rock your hips against his. Mister’s eyelids flutter but he doesn’t wake-up, not fully. He just hovers in that feverish space between dreaming and drowning. A place you’re familiar with.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Good. Good. Good.

You want to carve yourself into his bones before the tornado sirens rip your skull apart.

The oven mitts make useless fists at his sides as he arches beneath you, tendons in his neck pulled wire-tight. His hips stutter upward instinctively, chasing more friction, seeking the deepest, warmest parts of you.

His eyes snap open, “The fuck are you—” Mister-man’s voice is rough like sandpaper but you don’t let him finish before you slap your hand over his mouth.

“Shhhh, makin’ you feel good,” you moan quietly, your hips never faltering. His cock slides across a spot inside of you that whites the edges of your vision.

He mumbles something, his teeth scraping along your palm as he does so. It vaguely sounds like, ‘Get off’a me’ or ‘get off on me,’.

“M’tryin’,” you groan, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. Your cheeks are wet, but from tears or sweat, you don’t know.

How can everything make sense up here on top of Mister-J, and still feel so incredibly… wrong?

The oven mitts start to drum against your thighs as he squirms underneath you.

It…hurts? Mister is hitting you? 

Hurting you.

You like it. 

“Knock it off!” You press harder against this mouth with your hand, your fingers digging into his cheeks. It’s impossible to stop riding him, to stop yourself from needing this brutal closeness with Mister. 

You’re being bad. 

You like it. 

His muffled growls vibrate against your palm—angry or pleading or both—but your cunt clenches harder around him anyway. Release is so close, you can feel yourself teeter on the precipice, but you can’t seem to push yourself over.

“Please, please, p-please— jus’ wanna, I just wanna— please, please, Mister-J,” you whine, face wet with perspiration and tears now, they’re flowing freely from your eyes. “I want it, need it—”

“Stop, goddammit—” he shouts at you from behind your fingers.

It makes you flinch but you don’t stop, and your pussy pulses around him. Your hand presses harder, fingernails leaving moon crescents in his flesh mingled with his stubble.

You just want to feel good, to be able to fall asleep once this is all over.

Oven mitts thump and scrabble at your hip, and that only makes your thighs clamp tighter around his waist. You want to swallow every twitch of his cock, everything he can give you– you want it. 

He bucks his hips up into you and touches a place inside you that leaves you gasping for air. “Yes, yes, yes—” you groan breathlessly, leaning forward to lay your body on top of his, resting your forehead against his collarbone.

Mister bucks his hips up into yours again— once, twice, three times and suddenly you’re being shoved off of him, pushed to the side like you’re weightless.

Before you can really even know what hit you, Mister-man has his entire body weight pinning you down underneath him. He has his forearm forced against your neck.

Your thumb instinctively presses against down, searching for the shock collar button but you just end up pressing against your own palm.

The static, and the sirens and the screaming— the voices. It all goes completely silent and the only thing you can hear is the blood roaring in your ears.

Mistake?

Mistake. 

“Got’chya,” He growls down at you, his eyes dark and blown wide.

“Get off me! Get off me! Get off of me!” You scream at him as loudly as you can, “Get off of me! Get off! Off, off, offoffoffoff! I’ll fucking kill you, you stupid fucking sonofabitch- get the fuck off me!”

“Awhh, lil crazy puppy don’t like it?” He murmurs, pressing his lips to your tear stained cheekbone.

Your legs begin to flail wildly in an attempt to dislodge him, push him, get him off. Your hands flying to his face, scratching and clawing at the soft skin, and his vulnerable, delicate eyes. You can’t find the words for how much you don’t like it, so you scream— it’s loud and rattles in the back of your throat as Mister-man clamps his hand over your mouth to silence you.

His breath is hot and ragged against your ear, the oven mitts clumsily grappling at your wrists as you thrash. "Stop—fuckin'—fightin’—," he grits out, but his voice cracks on the last word.

You taste copper—your teeth sink into his palm at some point, his blood smearing your chin. He pulls his hand back back to look at the broken skin, and you clench your eyes shut, flinching away from the incoming blows.

The room tilts and suddenly Joel’s weight isn’t just on your body; it’s inside your head, like pressure forcing memories that had buried deep to the surface like lava from a volcano.

Different hands holding you down. A different room. Different voices in your ear.

“Nononononono,” you whimper in a shriveled voice you don’t recognize. 

“Hey!” Joel’s voice is sharp and grounding.

His arm lets up just enough for you to suck in a shattered breath. You’re both trembling now, your chests heaving against one anothers. His beard scratches your temple as he turns his face away from your clawing hands, but you don’t miss it—there is a  flicker in his eyes when your choked sob hits the air between you. 

Something wet smears your cheek. His blood? Your tears? It’s hard to tell. 

“M’gonna make you feel real good, crazy girl.” His lips brush your earlobe as his hips grind down into yours, the length of him sliding between your folds, the tip notched at your entrance.

“Stop,” you whine, but the force has left your voice. Something about him breathing in your ear, something about the sound he makes as he shifts his hips and slips himself inside of you. The tears continue to fall, even as you gasp and clench around him. 

“She’s suckin’ me right in baby,” Joel purrs in your ear while his hips start to move. 

You can feel every fucking inch of him, every vein, and every single beat of his heart through the slick walls of your cunt. “Oh god,” you groan, your stiff, frightened hands curling in the hair on the back of his head, the other gripping one of his strong, strained biceps. 

You're terrified, but Joel's words and touch are overwhelming you, making your body respond in ways you didn’t know could in a position like this.

He thrusts slowly at first as he sinks deeper inside you. But soon his pace quickens and the slapping, wet sounds coming from between your legs fill the small basement room. "Yeah just like that," Mister groans, his lips ghosting over your cheek. "Take it all, baby girl.”

Your walls clench around him, pulling him in as if eager for more. You feel delirious with fear and an unbidden arousal. Tears stream down your face, but soft moans spill from your lips.

Joel licks at your tears and leaves gentle kisses in their place, his beard scraping against your sensitive skin. "Shhhh, I got you," he murmurs between thrusts.

The room spins and blurs as the pleasure builds. Nothing exists and nothing is real anymore; Mister-man’s weight pinning you down, his cock splitting you open, the sour, sweaty, musky scent of him.

He’s real. He’s real. He’s real. He’s real. He’s real and he’s good. He’s good, he’s good, he’s good. He’s not killing you, not hurting you.

So good. It’s so good.

You turn your head to capture his salty, tear stained lips with yours, opening your mouth to let him in. His lips press against yours desperately, tongue licking at your teeth as he slips inside.

Your body arches up to meet him, craving more of his touch even as fear still coils in your gut. It’s like you’re two separate people wrapped up into a whole. One part of you wants him with everything that you are, and the other is ready to hide, ready to slip into the cracks into the wall and never come out.

His oven mitts move to your waist and fumble with the threadbare shirt you have on, trying to push it up over the swell of your breasts.

“Fuck,” he grunts, nipping at your bottom lip as he pulls away from the kiss. He sits back on his knees, cock still throbbing inside of you while your walls flutter around him.

“Don’t, oh god, no. Please don’t go-” you sob, hands and fingers clawing at his forearms, desperate for him to come back. “P-Please don’t leave me,” you whine sadly, 

Mister says nothing as he places both mitt covered hands inside your shirt where it’s fastened with buttons. He pulls the two pieces of fabric apart like paper. The buttons fly in every direction, scattering across the floor and some landing in bed with you. Joel stares down at your naked body and you feel more exposed than you ever have in your entire life.

“Jesus christ,” he murmurs, eyes tracing every single one of your curves. His mittened hands cups the swell of your tits, thumb swiping over the stiff buds

It’s like you’ve been zapped by the shock collar. Your back arches into his hand, your eyes clamp shut.

“Nuh-uh, watch me,” he growls. He waits until your eyes are on him before he leans over and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue swirls and teeth graze and bite down.

“Oh my god,” you groan, your fingers gripping his hair tighter, your nails dragging red, almost bloody marks down his arm.

Mister releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air across it almost like he’s teasing you. Goosebumps erupt across your skin as he takes the other into his mouth, alternating between harsh sucking and tender kisses.

You mewl softly as he begins to thrust again, each movement slow and deliberate. He drives deep inside of you and hits that spot that blurs the edges of your vision again, and again, and again.

You stare up at him in awe- his beard is longer, thicker than it was when he first came here, his hair disheveled and damp with sweat hangs in his forehead. He leans back and pushes the loose strands away from his face with an oven mitt.

Handsome.

He is.

Strong.

Being so gentle.

With you, Sugar. So gentle—

With you.

"Please," you whimper, spine bowing as pleasure coils tight in your belly as his hips snap against yours loudly. “More. Need more…”

He grins down at you, eyes crinkled at the corners, “I’ll give ya’ more, sweetheart.” If you thought Mister was handsome before, when he smiles your heart swells. and the pressure and tightness inside of you feels like it’s about to burst.

He wraps one hand underneath your knee and brings it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder by his ear, repeating the process with the other leg. He grips your thighs, the scratchy fabric of the oven mitts drags across your skin. Joel never lets up, never slows down the brutal, bruising pace he sets. 

A string of expletives and maybe his name more than once spill out of your mouth quickly, stumbling over the words as your body trembles underneath him.

All of the air is pushed out of you as he leans over, pushing your knees up to your chest and starts fucking into you with deep, long strokes. His pelvis grinds against your swollen clit with each powerful snap forward, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"I can feel her squeezin’ me," he rasps hotly in your ear, licking the shell before biting down on your earlobe. “Come on my cock, crazy girl.”

That does it. It’s more than enough to push you over the edge. “Oh—” Your head tips back with a silent scream as your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, making your entire body shudder and convulse beneath him. “Fuck… Joel!” Sparks burst behind your eyelids as pure rapture consumes you.

Mister sucks your earlobe as you come, his sweaty temple pressed against yours as the waves wash over you. He’s kissing and licking down to your neck, and bites down hard right over your pulse point, sucking hard enough to hurt. "That's it baby girl," he grunts against the spot he just bit.

It’s like your whole body is on fire, everything is too much, it’s all too good.

You feel a new pressure, a new sensation and it’s familiar, but foreign all at the same time. A new release, it’s different and it’s happening so fast.

“Stop! Oh my— Mist- Joel, p-please,” you plead for some sort of relief. “I’m gunna—”

Joel presses his lips to yours again, silencing you. You twist your head to the side, pulling away from his mouth as he kisses down your cheek to your jaw. “S’okay— let go...”

"I...I don't...can't..." You gasp out between ragged breaths. Hot, wet tears still leak from the corners of your eyes as the intense pleasure builds to an unbearable peak.

“Ya’ can,” he pants, resting his forehead on the side of your head. “Cryin’ only makes it feel better, baby girl.” He shifts his hips, angles them differently and fucks you harder- faster.

“P-Please,” you whimper, unsure if you’re begging him to stop, or to keep going. “S’too much!”

“Shut up,” he growls, nipping at your cheek gently, teeth scraping skin as he pistons into you relentlessly. “Let it happen, crazy girl.”

So you do- body obeying his command even as your mind reels with what’s about to happen. A second climax crashes over you, more intense than the first. It erupts from you in a wet splash against Mister’s lower stomach and pelvis, it drips down the curve of your ass and you feel it seeping into the mattress underneath you.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises breathlessly. “Such a good fuckin’ girl cummin’ on Mister’s cock again.”

You sob in pleasure and embarrassment simultaneously as he fucks you through it, his deep voice rasping in your ear.

“Crazy,” He murmurs. His thrusts grow clumsy, and he’s panting in your ear, kissing the side of your face. His tongue captures the tears on your cheeks again like they’re his favorite drink as your fingers dig into the soft flesh on his shoulder. “Makin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” he snaps suddenly, pulling back and out of you completely.

You whimper at the loss but he presses your thighs together tightly with his hands and forearms, and slips his cock between them, the length siding through your wet folds.

Mister-J kisses your ankle, his teeth biting down on the skin as he groans loudly, warmth spreads and seeps between your thighs, and slick lower lips, the crease where your legs meet your pelvis.

You stare up at him, watching as his eyes close, his brow furrows, his hips jerking back and forth clumsily as he empties himself onto your lower half.

Your legs tremble as he slides his softening cock out from between your thighs. 

That was the most incredible, and intense feeling you’ve ever experienced and you’re not sure if you should love him, or hate him for what he just did to you. The wet spot on the mattress is an embarrassing reminder of what happened seconds ago.

“S’good for ya’?” Mister asks, running one of his oven mitts over his forehead, wiping the sweat away. His eyes move from your face, down your still naked body, his cum smeared across your mound and lower stomach.

You pull your shirt closed around your bare torso, holding it closed with one hand. You use your good foot and the other hand to push yourself onto the cold concrete floor— skin scraping roughly as you shove yourself away from him.

His brows pinch together tightly, and he narrows his eyes on you. “Where’re ya’ goin’?” He sounds… concerned? Angry? Disappointed?

The words don’t find you, thoughts don’t come to you anymore as you hold the shirt over your chest and glare at him. All you can do is scream at him. It comes from somewhere deep and your lungs hurt, your throat feels like it could bleed from how raw it is after.

“Where’re ya’ goin’?”

He watches as tears continue to pour down your cheeks, your face twisting up tightly. You inhale deeply, and it looks like you’re trying to regain your composure.

Then you scream at him. It’s long and loud and hurts his ears, but he stares at you until you’re done. He continues to watch as you scurry away from him in a clumsy, stumbling crab-crawl until your back bumps into the leg of the table. 

You flinch and stifle a sob, and finally take a deep, shaky breath. You use the table to push yourself to your feet, turning away from him finally. You shove the table in his direction, grabbing the shock collar remote before you turn, and limp into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

The dull roar of the infected grows louder from upstairs. They’re still there, and that means the two of you are stuck together for at least another day or two, maybe longer.

The door opens again, and a metal bucket comes hurdling out of the bathroom and through the air. It hits the wall, and drops to the floor noisily with chaotic, metal clangs until it comes to settle in the corner by the mattress.

The door slams shut again.

You’re broken, he can see it in your eyes almost all the time, but there was a moment when he was on top of you where he thought you might have completely checked out– gone somewhere else, somewhere he didn’t mean to take you. 

Traumatized the poor puppy. Pro’lly in there cryin’.

He’s not worried that you’re crying. Nope. Not even a little. 

Alright- that’s what you wanna keep tellin’ yourself, go right ahead. 

He’s worried he just signed his death certificate. 

Joel wasn’t trying to take anything from you— not like that. You were already on top of him, riding him, but you just looked like you needed some help, like you needed him to take control. Like you didn’t know what you were doing up there, rolling and swirling your hips in any direction. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t ever going to get you there- where you wanted to be so badly.

Joel took you there, made you fucking squirt all over him and he took some sense of pride in that. 

Joel helps himself to jerky and bread, he drinks as much water as his body will comfortably allow. For the first time in weeks, he’s actually full. His stomach feels like it’s stretched like he might actually burst. 

–-

At first Joel thought you just needed a couple minutes. Maybe you wanted to clean up in the privacy of the bathroom without his eyes on you. But hours go by and he hears nothing coming from the separate room. Nothing. 

It’s silent. Completely. No shrieking or clicking of the infected from upstairs either. 

It’s the lack of control that’s pissing him off more than he would care to admit. Being captive was of course at the top of his ‘things to be pissed off about’ list,  but if he was going to be stuck here with you, he wishes he could at least have a say in what goes on. 

Hasn’t seen the sun, hasn’t had a proper shower in god knows when, hasn’t had a real meal in just as long. If you would give him just a little more freedom, things wouldn’t be too fucking bad here. 

Now you’re gettin’ it. 

You’re making Joel crazy, now he’s thinking about complying?

Y’been complyin’, Mister. Complied real damn good in that bed just then.

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. 

Has Joel been complying? What the fuck is going on? Why didn’t he kill you in bed? Why didn’t he strangle you, bite your jugular out of your throat. He could have, he felt your heartbeat on his tongue. He could have ended all of this right then. 

But ya’ didn’t! 

He sure fucking didn’t. He was so unworried about killing, that he made sure you came– twice – before he finished. 

Looked so sweet comin’ on your cock, perfect tits bouncin’, fuckin’ pussy was immaculate. 

Joel presses the oven mitts into the sockets of his eyes and groans loudly. 

--

Joel’s eyes snap open at the rattling coming from inside the room. He shoots up, looking around with crusty eyes and blurry vision. He expects to see you but is met with the sight of that fucking opposum sitting on the table with a piece of Joel’s jerky in his clawed little fingers, munching happily on the dried meat. 

“Git!” Joel shouts. The small animal doesn’t even flinch at Joel’s outburst, just continues to eat that precious protein. “Y’little fuckin’--” Joel grumbles, pushing himself to his feet. He stands in front of the table, looking down at it- the opposum- Puddin’. 

He just stares right back up at Joel, chewing quickly and swallowing. 

Kinda cute.

“S’fuckin’ gross,” Joel grumbles. He doesn’t really want to touch that thing, he doesn’t want to get whatever diseases that thing could be carrying. 

He’s got a collar on. 

Puddin’ does have a collar on. Joel imagines you taking your time picking it out for him, going through all the colors and designs. He can see you finding the teal and pink collar, holding it up against his fur and saying it’s perfect. That Puddin’ would be the most handsome opossum this mall has ever seen. 

It makes him smile. 

--

It feels like two fucking days--two goddamn days since Joel saw you walk into that bathroom and slam the door shut practically in his face. 

You’re either dead in there or plotting the most painful ways to kill him. Both choices make Joel sick to his stomach. 

–--

Joel watches you behind the metal grate that keeps the mattress store all locked up nice and tight. He’s on the wrong fucking side! He’s on the mall side and you’re tucked under the covers of your comfortable looking bed. Seven mattresses stacked on top of each other like you’re in some fucking story he’d read to Sarah when she was really little. 

Joel almost wishes he could go back to the basement because this is more dehumanizing than being tied up by the elbows or roped up to a chair. 

The metal chain around his neck is tight, and it digs into his skin. It’s thick,  heavy and has prongs on it– like he’s a fucking dog. A violent dog that lunges, and bites and attacks. 

You opened the door to the bathroom an hour ago with the choke chain in your hand, the shock collar remote taped to the other, and the most exhausted look Joel’s ever seen on anyone's face. Big dark circles under your eyes, disassociated stare like you weren’t even really looking at Joel when you spoke to him in almost indecipherable mumbling.

Joel fought you a little when you padlocked the choke chain to his neck, and added a smaller lock to the shock collar. But he stopped when you said you were gonna take his oven mitts off his hands. 

Where are all the infected? It sounded like there had been a horde of them up here two days ago and now there is not a single sign that they had even been here. 

When Joel had questioned you about what he would do if more infected came, you very confidently said that no one could get in or out that easily anymore; that you had made this place nice and safe for your ‘mister-man’.

Ain’t ever had no one like that before, have ya’?

No.

That had always been Joel’s job; to keep everyone else safe. 

Who made sure that he was safe? 

There had always been give and take with everyone else, even Tommy and Tess. There was love there, sure– but never just someone absolutely and completely tearing themselves open to make sure that Joel was taken care of. 

The only thing you wanted in return was his company. 

Might’a never touched ya’ if you hadn’t asked for it. 

He wonders what your name is. How old you are, where you came from. How long have you been out here…

Joel grabs the metal cord wrapped in some sort of plastic or vinyl material that goes all the way up to the ceiling and gives it a shake as he looks up. You’ve attached it to some other sort of rope or cable that’s been tied from one end of the mall to the other. 

The other end is connected to Joel’s choke chain. 

As soon as your eyes closed he attempted to unclip himself from it but it wouldn’t budge. He tried everything but it was like you welded the clasp closed. 

Joel wanders. That’s all he can do. He’s got more than enough slack to go into whatever store he wants and walk around, inspect.

As he does this his mind doesn’t stop thinking about you. Why didn’t you sleep with him? What did you do while he slept on the bed? Did you sleep? Have you eaten? What the fuck did you do in the bathroom for two whole days?

Joel finds a place where the sun is shining through a hole in the ceiling and faces it with his eyes closed. He could fucking cry. He didn’t realize how much he missed this, how important it was for a person to come in contact with the sunlight. He chokes down the lump in his throat and stands there, following the sun as it moves in the sky, the light coming in at shifting angles and directions. He follows it, stays in the warmth- basking in it for as long as possible until dusk settles and the sky slowly starts to turn pink. 

Joel has his backpack with him. You packed him some food and water, his flashlight. A clean long sleeve shirt in case it got cold. You even threw in some whiskey for him, which he was enjoying sip by sip. 

He pulls his flashlight out and uses it when he goes into an old bookstore. Some shelves are empty; nature guides, atlases, hunting and fishing- basically the entire outdoors section is gone. 

The romance novels are almost bare. 

Who needs those when lil puppy’s got you, right?

There are still self-help books on the shelves, almost untouched and whatever is left looks like it would fall apart in his hands if he tried to touch it. 

Why’s you even in this section?

Joel wanders to the comics and takes a look at whatever is left. Some are in alright condition, wrapped in plastic away from the elements. Some do disintegrate before he can even get them out of their place on the shelf. 

He grabs a Batman comic still in a vinyl sleeve and tosses it in his pack for later. There are tons more strewn all across the floor, some he remembers reading with Tommy as kids. He picks through them, looking for any worth saving and finds two more still in decent condition. 

There are several department and clothing stores that look bare from the outside, but he wanders into one anyway just to see what might have been missed.

There’s an exit to the outside that's been all boarded up, with what looks like every empty clothing rack pushed in front of it. He thinks about moving all those things, breaking through the boards… but where the fuck would he go? Ten feet outside of the mall where the infected were apparently moving through? 

No. 

He’ll stay inside.

He paruses the homegoods section all the way in the back of the second floor and finds a wall of empty shelves except for one. 

It’s filled with books- he reads through the titles: The Beginners Guide to Foraging, An Introduction to Wildlife Rehabilitation, LIVING WITH WILDLIFE- How to Enjoy, Cope with, and Protect North America’s Wild Creatures Around Your Home and Theirs, The Big Book of Skill Makers, The Complete Beginners Guide to Greenhouse Gardening- A Month by Month Planting Book to Grow 365 Days a Year, You Will Find Your People- How To Make Meaningful Friendships as an Adult. There are several Batman comics featuring Harley Quinn and The Joker. 

They all look like they’ve been read thoroughly and many times. 

On the same shelf there is a pink balloon animal made of glass, it has fresh flowers in it, with clean water. It takes him several seconds to realize that it’s supposed to be a bong. For smoking weed. And you’re using it as a vase. 

Joel chuckles to himself and continues to look at the shelf of your important belongings. A couple rocks of different colors, an old makeup compact that has a broken mirror in it. And a small glass picture frame of a family– a mother and a father, a little girl, and a young man but his face has been scratched out beyond recognition. 

On the wall behind the shelf Joel notices lines carved into the wall.

| | | | | | | | | | |

Twelve. Is that how old you were when this all happened? Is that the number of men you did this to before Joel came along? Are you going to add him to this fucking list?

Is that how many months you've been out here?

All of this suddenly feels like someone he can’t see punched Joel directly in the stomach. 

Sad. 

Joel makes his way to a different part of the mall, checking every entrance that he finds along the way and they’re all boarded up better than they were when he used to walk around here before you captured him. He does appreciate the effort you went through to make sure nothing could get in if you weren’t going to give him a weapon, and he couldn’t escape. 

There is an old music and entertainment store where you must get your princess movies and cartoons to watch. He picks through a couple, finding a couple classics that he watched before the outbreak Office Space, Dirty Harry, The Thing, Top Gun. 

He grabs a couple more that he watched as a kid with his dad and grandpa; The Magnificent 7, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. He grabs the three original Star Wars movies as well– the best ones, the only ones worth watching. The ones that started to come out right before the outbreak– Joel can’t even talk about it. 

He’s done his exploring and now he sits outside of the mattress store waiting for you to wake up and let him back in. As soon as Joel unwraps the sandwich and jerky you made him, that stupid fucking oppossum comes scampering along like this is it’s dinner too. 

“Get the hell outta here,” Joel grumbles, waving his hand in its direction, trying to scare it off– but it persists. 

Inching closer and closer until Joel could kick it if he wanted to. 

Kinda cute in the little collar.

Joel tosses a piece of his sandwich a good distance away and Puddin’ chases after it while Joel digs into his own portion. 

Hours and hours go by, you sleep for so fucking long. He reads all of the comic books that he grabbed and even goes back to the bookstore to look for more. He finds nothing else that interests him so he goes to your bookshelf in the department store and grabs a couple from there to look at. 

He’s flipping through the skill maker book when you finally wake up and open the grate. 

Joel scrambles to his feet, watching as you rub your eyes with your one free hand, the other still has the remote tapped to your palm. 

The two of you stare at each other for several silent moments before you notice the book in his hand. 

“Just put it back where ya’ found it when you’re done with it, ‘kay?” Your voice is deep and filled with sleep. 

Joel nods his head, and puts the book in his backpack. “Yeah, sure– hey where did all the infected go?” He questions as you toss your own pack over your shoulder and head in the direction of the food court. 

“Cleared ‘em out the other day.”

“How the hell did you do that? When? After we–”

“Yup.” You cut him off with a sharp, short response. “Wasn’t that many. Kinda easy when you get high ground on ‘em.” 

Joel eyes dart up to the rafters and wonders how good you are with a bow and arrow. He knows Ellie is a great shot, loves her bow and arrow. “And you moved ‘em all out on your own?” 

“Yup.” 

“How did you even get out of the bathroom?” Joel’s been wondering that this whole time. 

You walked into the bathroom, slammed the door and the next time he saw you was coming down the stairs to the basement. 

He wonders if you’re even real. 

Ohh our lil puppy is real alright.

If you knew that Mister-J was going to ask all of these questions you might not have ever taken the duct tape off. 

Where did the infected go? What if more get in? How did you get out of the bathroom? Where are you going now? When will you be back? Are you okay? Are you mad? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering me? 

He’s so nosy! Asking more questions than any of the other guys combined. 

Why does he even care? 

Shhhhh, this is what makin’ friends is, Sweetheart. 

“Used the vents to get out of the bathroom,” you sigh, not stopping or slowing down but Joel keeps up anyway, his arm brushing yours as he walks alongside you.

“What about the infected– you know the spores–” 

“I burn ‘em outside at night when it’s real dark–” you explain to him quickly. “I ain’t stupid. I know ‘bout the spores. I know how the fungus works. I paid attention,” you huff softly as you reach the ladder that takes you up into the rafters and eventually out onto the roof.

Mister is too big, and probably too clumsy to follow you up here. 

“M’just goin’ to get some more food… I’ll be right back– couple of minutes, okay?”

Mister looks relieved when you say this, his face relaxes and he sighs softly. “Okay, just be careful.” 

— -- --- ---

“Is that my shirt?” He asks about the green and red flannel you have on when you come out of the women’s restroom in the food court. Your hair is clean, your body feels refreshed after taking a shower. 

Mister looks good too with his hair slicked back, and his beard trimmed neatly. 

You nod, not taking your eyes off of him. It’s almost impossible when he looks like a brand new man- handsome. He looks like he’s lost weight since he’s been here with you. 

You’ll fix that. He needs to eat more than you, and he wants meat so… you’ll go get it for him. Real meat this time, even if it makes you sad how you have to get it.

“Yeah, I took it ‘cause it smelled like you.” You admit with no shame. That’s exactly why you took it. So you could sleep with it so he could warm up to his new house, with his new friend. 

Mister-J chuckles, and shakes his head at you with a smirk plastered across his face. “Someone told me I stink once,” he says through his laughter. 

This makes you smile because he’s happy. He looks happy, like he doesn’t mind talking to you, he’s not saying mean things. He’s sharing. 

Told ya’ he’d get comfortable. Just had to be patient. We figured it all out eventually. 

“You do stink sometimes, but you smell real, so I don’t mind.” You share with him as you lead him back to the mattress store. He carried the TV up earlier and said he found a couple movies he wanted to watch. They don’t really look like movies you want to watch, but you’ll give them a shot.

Anything for Mister-Joel, perfect, sweet man. 

It doesn’t make this easier. Mister wants to sleep in the bed next to you, said he wanted to warm you up, but now you’re next to him again and it feels like you could burst into flames and tears all at the same time. 

“What’s your name?” He whispers into your ear, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding onto you tightly from behind. 

“Why?” The sirens go off inside your head. No one’s asked you that in so long, it makes your stomach flip and you feel like you could be sick. 

“Told’ya mine,” He murmurs into your hair. 

Joel. 

When you go to answer, the words don’t come because the memories are gone. You can see your mom and dad talking to you inside your head but their voices are on mute. The name never leaves their mouth.  “I don’t remember…”

OFC thank you @pedrospookie for making this cutie banner and letting me scream at about all of this!!

I need to give an extra special shout-out to the couple of other people I screamed at about this. @almostempty @gothcsz( your music recs inspired me) and thanks to @probablyreadinsmut and my unnamed friend who helped me with the TW of the chapter.

I was especially nervous to post this because I didn't want to ruin anyone's day or send anyone into their own spiral. I hope you all are OK!

thank you to everyone who has been reading!! I've never gotten such incredible feedback on a fic before and you are all so nice and make writing this story that much more fun. I LOVE YOU

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22 @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @syd-djarin @probablyreadinsmut @itwasntimethatdidit40 @letsgobarbs @lovehappyloki @joelalorian @pedrostories @evolnoomym @valkyreally @youdontknowe @corazondebeskar-reads @pastelpinkflowerlife @tobethlehem

please don't hate me if I forgot you, I have a hamster brain, ok?

[nonranghaes]

heads up: vague food mentions.

"hey, beautiful."

mingyu looks up from the pot he's stirring on the stove, staring at you for a moment like a confused pup. this is far from the first time you've called him something like handsome or pretty or, well, beautiful, but something about the way he can hear you smiling makes him wonder if there's something else going on. he doesn't see your phone in your hands, so you aren't recording him to get his silly, flustered giggles... but that doesn't mean you don't have one of his friends on a call. or one of your friends. he's grown used to the fact that now he has twice the amount of people who lovingly tease him (and, thankfully, stop when he asks them to--it's happened once with some of your friends taking a joke a little too far, and you were firm in telling them to knock it off before he even had to ask again).

he just smiles at you, eyes lighting up a little. "yes?"

you snort to yourself after a moment, making your way over. "nothing," you hum, wrapping your arms around his waist. "just... had to test something that cheol pointed out the other day."

again, you're met with the confused puppy look. he knows you've grown closer to several of his friends (wonwoo, seungcheol, minghao--although a lot of them do adore you), but he didn't know how often you talk to any of them. he knows its enough that sometimes minghao will mention a video you sent him, or seungkwan will talk about a question you asked him and the ensuing discussion, but there's something heartwarming to know just how intertwined your lives have become after these years together.

"i called you handsome on the phone once when he was round," you squeeze his hip, just a little. "and he says you always get this goofy look on your face." you lean in to kiss his cheek. "and i know i'm biased when i say it's definitely more cute than goofy, but... i wanted to see what he was talking about."

he just chuckles. "ah. i see," he reaches an arm around you, drawing you in so that he can press a kiss against the side of your face. "dinner's almost done, my heart."

and in turn, he sees the cute look that crosses your face when he calls you sweet things. that sweet, dreamy look in your eyes, the twitching smile as you try to hide just how easily he makes your heart flutter, too. minghao once, lovingly, told him that the two of you were like lovesick puppies when you first started dating and that he was glad it seemed to boil down into something more... natural between the two of you. not that he hated it: the two of you were visibly happy whenever you were seen together, and he was happy for that.

"it feels more real now," minghao had told him, gesturing vaguely with one hand as he continued on. "like you're two people in love. not just two people falling for each other. it's like you're a married couple."

mingyu understood. he thinks he prefers the act of being more than the act of falling anyway.

[fazyrich]

Tags: Sylus x reader, Caleb x reader(?), teasing, fighting, slightly playful Sylus, random encounter, kinda proofread?. This is my first attempt of writing 😬😬. So ignore my inconsistent writings *sobs*

You/MC, Sylus, Caleb

Going to an event with Sylus as an apology for accusing him about your family house explosion 💥.

___

While walking around during the party with Sylus, your hand slotted firmly on his left arm, you just stumble upon Caleb. It turned out the event was just another gathering for the usual shady dealings—no surprise they had invited the Colonel as well. His gaze locks onto yours instantly.

You could see his eyes widened in surprise, and feel them rake upon your body. Tightly wrapped with a maroon silk gown, slitted at your left thigh, successfuly showing off your long legs. The look was further complemented with a pair of louboutins.

On the other hand, Sylus could sense how your hand slightly gripped his arm a little too hard. Understanding that something or someone is making you feel nervous.

"Mr Sylus, I rarely see you around lately", the older gentleman in front of Caleb greets them. Judging from their positions, They must have been talking with each other.

"Ah, Mr Charles, it has been a while," Sylus replied. Nodding slightly to the elderly gentleman before resting his gaze to Caleb. Sensing the stare, Mr Charles quickly exclaimed

"Oh this is Caleb, a junior of mine from the Aviation team,"

"Pleased to meet you..Mr.Caleb", Sylus said, extending his hand. Caleb glanced at it for a second before gripping it firmly.

"Same here," he replied shortly, tightening his grip as he spoke. Not noticing the cold response, Mr Charles nodded to me as they released the handshake.

"Never seen you out with a partner before, May I ask who she is?"

"Oh, she's my.. fiancée," Sylus replied. Hearing this both Caleb and I turned to Sylus, eyes widening in shock. What the hell, he never says that before?!

"Hah! Congratulations Mr. Sylus. You two make quite the pair", the elderly man said with a chuckle as he praised us.

Caleb, however was still in shock, his fist tight as his knuckles turned white. How could his pips-..No, no, this must be a part of her mission or something. It's better to play along

Following Mr. Charles, Caleb gathered himself and flashed his usual million watt smile " I agree Mr. Charles, they do look perfect for each other,"

His eyes stray from Sylus and only rest on my face, I could feel the raging emotion he is shooting me behind those gentle pairs of amethysts.

"Thank you for the kind words, gentlemen. Don't mind her- she's albeit a little tired from the honeymoon," Sylus claims, his eyes twinkled with amusement. Meanwhile, Caleb's left eye involuntarily twitched at the statement.

Okay now, that's enough. I tried to subtly pinch his side, a signal for him to stop the storytelling however sometimes I forgot that this man is well built. The only thing I'm doing is tugging his jacket.

Sylus immediately leans down, " What was that, sweetie?," Half of his build covering the vision of those two men from me. I glared at him for a second. "Stop teasing," I whispered in his ear.

"No can do, kitten. I'm always worried about you," he states. His hand softly tucks a strand behind my ear.

"By the way, Mr. Sylus. If you don't mind, would you like to discuss a potential business venture? My junior here would like to share some of his insights," the elderly man spoke, gesturing towards the other side of the hall.

You mean a new illegal business? And of course the fleet is involved. I sighed

Straightening up , Sylus turns to me, his eyes alone gauging my reaction. I smiled and patted his chest

"You should go, honey. I think I'm going to get more drinks," I forced a polite smile toward the two men.

"Very well , don't overdo yourself sweetie or I'll need to carry you back to the car again," he teased. His hand caresses my face again before resting on the brooch he gave me. Which now had beend tinkered into a hair ornament.

I saw him silently mouthing something to me before he turned and walked away

"Be careful"

I watched the three of them leave before walking in the opposite direction. Approaching the table decorated with miniature snacks and various alcoholic drinks, I picked a tall glass of white wine.

The event replaying in my head. Sheesh, that was delightful haha. This was supposed to be a casual event.

Why is Caleb here for fuck's sake. I sighed before sipping the wine

I wonder if Caleb is pissed or worried about me? Glancing up at the huge analog clock hanging by the wall. I noted, Half an hour past midnight. My body tensed

This night is not going to end any sooner huh. More like, it just started.

---

Hours drifted by as if time had lost all meaning.

By the time I reached my third glass of wine, there was still no sign of Sylus anywhere in the hall. Damn it! Did he ditch me or something? I clicked my tongue in frustration.

Deciding that the need for fresh air is overwhelming, I walked around the hall searching for an empty space to rest. Complaints continued to leave me until I reached a quiet balcony on the furthest part of the hall.

Perfect, none of those creepy party attendants is here. I gleefully rejoiced for the personal space

Walking forward, I leaned against the balcony, the crisp night air wrapping around me like a silent embrace.

"Ughh where did Sylus go, I wanna leave this shitty place," I whined loudly while looking up into the starry skies.

"You’re leaving already?"

The unexpected voice makes me flinch slightly and my grip on the railing tightened.

I hesitantly glanced over my shoulder. Oh no. Just my luck. The one person I was trying to avoid.

I forced a casual smile. "Oh, hi. Uh... Mr. Caleb, right?". Did I stuttered too much?

"Cut it out, pips. It’s just us here, I made sure of it," Caleb said, stepping beside me.

He hesitated for a moment, as if debating something in his mind, before his sharp gaze rested on me.

"Is this another one of your missions?" His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it.

"Didn’t know that one of a hunter's responsibility includes being an escort." He tilted his head slightly, the faint glow of the stars barely reveal his face.

"That's none of your concern. Besides, why the heck a respected figure like you attending a flashy event like this, Colonel ? " I huffed, turning away, unwilling to meet his gaze.

Before I could take another breath, his hand gripped my shoulder, firm and unyielding, forcing me to face him once more.

"To be honest, I don't care as long as you're safe, pips. But do you know who that man is? Did you really accept a job without any research beforehand ? How careless are you??," His eyes locked onto mine, searching intently for even the slightest hint of an answer.

Did he seriously believe this was a mission? This idiot—. I pushed off his grip and stepped back, putting some distance between us both.

"What the fuck Caleb?!, I told you it's none of your business ?," I snapped, running a hand through my hair. Before he could reply, I pressed on.

"Yes, I know exactly who he is, and No, this is not a mission. I’m here of my own free will," I said firmly, letting the words settle between us.

After a brief pause, I continued with shaky breath, my tone heavy with challenge. "Didn’t the Fleet already know I was in the N109 zone? What do you think happened there, Caleb?".

The question struck Caleb like lightning, I could see various emotions cross his face before settling into one, Anger.

"You know who he is and you still out here with him?? Are you INSANE, pips?! Do you know how dangerous he is?!," the strings of questions edged with anger makes me flinch again.

"And what the fuck do you mean, 'what happened there?', What are you trying to imply ?," Caleb cursed, taking a step forward before stopping. He hesitates before continuing.

"He kills people for a living, for fuck's sake," he grumbles, frustation clearly displayed on his features.

"And you don't?," I laughed, the question hanging in the air. It silenced him beyond words.

Caleb was stunned at my accusation, watching him staggering back slowly makes me feel guilty for saying that.

Despite your anger, you realize Caleb is just worried about you. Gravely worried. Who are you kidding? The memories of those few days you guys spent together in Skyhaven should have made that clear, yet it still takes you by surprise.

Sometimes it hits you how Caleb, your Caleb, always make sure you are within his sight. Even back when you were kids.

Afterall, he is still Caleb. One of the few people I care for and -...the few that deeply cares about me. Looking down, I sighed.

"Look, it's fine Caleb. I'm fine, me and him, we are..- acquittances...at best. Well, he didn't..- exactly do anything bad to me," I shrugged hesitantly.

Well he did kindap and restrained me for what? three days?, but hey everyone make mistakes right? Haha

"How exactly do you want me to believe that? Do you even have evidence?," Caleb snorts, still not trusting the poor explanation.

"What if the man himself, vouch for that?," a familiar, silky voice responds.

Finally

Sylus walked right in between the both of us. He looked at Caleb for a second before turning to me.

"Are you okay, sweetie? You look exhausted,"

"I'm..-fine, just tired. You did leave me alone for hours, jerk,"

"You know how business works, it takes a long time to process but I'm done now," Sylus chuckled, stepping to my side facing the other man.

"If you don't believe her, I can asure you that she's fine and this outing of ours? Just a payback for the accusation she threw at me initially," Sylus explains, staring right into Caleb's face.

"Accu-sations ?," Caleb was taken aback. What type of accusation that fueled her to confront a highly wanted criminal?

"Uhhh, about tha-,"

"She accused me of killing you and your grandma I believe, her resolve was so strong she succeded in shooting me," Sylus smirks as if the explanation was some kind of a joke.

It was silent for a minute before Caleb speaks

"Pips, you..- you did that for me and gran?.. -For us?," the anger has left Caleb by now. He couldn't believe what he just heard, his pips trying to deliver justice for him but at the wrong address it seems.

She did it for me? For me and grandma? Caleb was touched but the fact that she was putting her life on a thread just to meet this man still bothers him.

Noticing Caleb had eased up after the explanation, you seized the moment to strengthen Sylus's explanation, " Yeah, I did - anddd one thing let to another. So now we're like business partners , just helping each other out,"

Sylus raised his eyebrow at my not-so-true claims but I nudged his side a little hard, hinting him to play along. He smirks. This man!

"If that’s all, I think you should head back inside. Mr. Caleb, your senior was looking for you just as we wrapped up our business discussion."

Caleb stiffened, he quickly glanced at his watch. Crap, had he really been gone this long?

Caleb sighed, "Fine, I’ll let it go... For Now. But you still owe me a proper explanation, Pips," he paused before shooting a pointed look . "I’ll call you later. And you—" Caleb’s sharp gaze landed on Sylus. "Take care of her, got it? If so much as a single hair is out of place, I will—"

"Yes I understand mother hen, now shoo. Get back to work," my hand gesturing towards the door. Caleb clicked his tounge at me, taking one last look, and he finally left.

Not even a few seconds later

"So, I make a living by killing people, huh? That’s crude," Sylus remarked as soon as Caleb was out of sight.

"Oh shut up Sylus, just take me back home neoww," I groaned impatiently.

"As you wish, kitten," he chuckled.

***

So yeah everyone, sorry for the wait 🙏🏻. I had to ask my friend to help me construct some of the sentences and dialogues, hehe.

This is my version of the ending, I'm not sure if this is angsty or dramatic but hopefully this is up to your taste. Thanks again for your kind words and of course, anyone want to write an alternate ending of this. Please do 😝🙌🏻 (especially smut)

I was thinking of writing another prompt on 'what if Caleb actually held the fake funeral of us' 🤔 but I have my finals next week 😩😩( wish me luck 🤞🏻😀). See you when I see you, xoxo

[paperyowl]

This is a weird ask. Feel free to ignore it.

But post breakup Buck staring at Rockon thinking Tommy has a date with this hot silver daddy (he ain't blind) and confronted them cos he's jealous to find out he was wrong. They bought him home for either a threesome (cos David never had one) or maybe just cuddles cos looks at the sad puppy and doting on Buck.

(what buck doesn't know is that Donovan is Tommy's cousin with a hilarious sense of humor who texted him the very next day to collect his man cos he ain't sharing his daddy with his cousin's ex no matter how pretty he is)

It's not weird at all. I love the idea! And I have two vastly different thoughts for this - lets go with this one for now. (I might have changed it a little bit - but I definitely need that threesome happening sometime still.)

+++

Pick up, idiot.

Calling me names doesn't make me want to talk to you more.

Tommy dropped his phone somewhere on the couch, not really bothering to check where it fell. He was not in the mood for his cousin's antics. His week had been so busy that Tommy was aching in more places than he knew he could. Maybe was is getting too old for this job.

Or perhaps he'd been slacking. Not eating well, not sleeping enough. These days, Tommy is usually good at taking care of himself. A hard-learnt habit, but he'd put in the work.

Not that it mattered now when his mind kept circling back to the rather sweet sentiment of someone saying, 'You don't have to do everything by yourself' and 'I'll take care of you'.

It was a certain someone with those impossibly warm baby blues that Tommy was trying very hard not to think about. (And failing miserably.) He deserved this. After all, he'd been the one to implode what they had.

His phone kept buzzing. After the third or fourth time - which frankly was ridiculous Don, what the fuck, get a life - Tommy hunted it down in the cushions and unlocked it.

Only to almost drop it when he saw the last message was a photo of -

"Hi, cuz," Donovan drawled, sounding deeply satisfied with himself. But Tommy wasn't focused on that at all.

"How do you have a photo of Evan? Is he there with you? Why is he with you?"

"Okay, first of all, ouch, I think I'm insulted-"

"Donovan."

Tommy heard his own voice rise and wondered since his fuse had become this short. Then he remembered that Donovan had always had this way of riling him up. That's why they hadn't talked in months. They'd been fighting about something; Tommy couldn't really remember what it had been about.

"Figured that pic would get you to call me," Donovan said. "No 'Hello, my favourite cousin, how are you doing?' It's nice to hear you, too, you know."

"Don't be mean, Rocker," another voice said in the background, one that Tommy didn't know. Or actually, he might - he'd heard it once before, and now he could remember what the fight had been about. But his focus was somewhere else completely.

"Hi. How are you. It's been too long. I miss you - is Evan okay?"

Donovan laughed at the way only one of those sentences ended in a note high enough to count as a question. Tommy hissed his name again, and finally got a 'yeah, yeah, alright.' before the phone was handed off to -

"Hi," Evan said softly. He sounded like he'd been crying. His sniffeling was hard on Tommy. "Your cousin and his partner are nice."

Tommy couldn't help but scoff. "Maybe they're doppelgängers."

There is a momentary pause, and Tommy is almost certain that the rustling he hears is a bit of a grapple for the phone. But it's still Evan on the other end when the noise dies down.

"I wouldn't know about that," Evan said. "You never mentioned them."

Fuck.

"Evan-"

"So we're back to Evan?"

"Bu-"

"Don't," Evan pleaded. "Just. Don't."

"Want me to go and rough him up a little? I still remember where he lives."

Donovan's offer sounded weak, and Tommy could imagine the way he had probably put a hand on Evan's shoulder. Or his back.

Evan didn't exactly laugh, but it was similar enough. The sound still unravelled something in Tommy's chest.

"Can we talk in person?"

"I'd like that," Evan breathed. "Just maybe not tonight?"

"Of course. Do you want me to text-"

"I'll take over from here," Donovan said, and Tommy vaguely heard the muffled noise of the receiver being covered. He checked his watch, aware that whatever conversation happened on their end took less than a minute, but to Tommy, it felt like ages more.

"You free tomorrow? Wanna come over for lunch?" Donovan asked without any lead-up, startling Tommy a little. "I somehow think you have a bit more of a reason to say 'yes' this time."

Tommy huffed a laugh.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm free," he said. "Is he alright?"

"Are you going to stop being an idiot?"

"Don."

Donovan sighed. "Listen, I know it's not really my place, but I know you, and I can make an educated guess what happened here."

"I don't like you," Tommy groused.

And like the total bastard that he was, Donovan only laughed and responded, "But you love him."

Like that was a normal thing to say. Tommy spluttered.

"Just be here tomorrow at noon, I'll cook" Donovan completely ignored Tommy's rather childish comment, 'You can cook?' and just went on. "And I'll introduce you to Deacon."

"The ominous partner that you wouldn't tell me more about when I asked?"

That was a rather shortened version of the outright shouting match of a phone call that they'd had all those weeks ago. There had been a lot of implications about very different, and Donovan wouldn't even tell him the name of the man who had him all secretive.

It was easy to read between the lines, and perhaps Tommy had been protective in exactly the wrong way. But he'd never been able to help that when it came to Donovan. The only family member that Tommy cared about.

"He just filed for divorce," Donovan told him. Tommy hissed in sympathy, starting to apologize for the whole fight, but Donovan went on: "And you wouldn't believe the things he can do with his tong-"

"Shut up."

Donovan kept laughing at him, and Tommy felt too exhausted to do something about it. And perhaps a little relieved.  

"Noon, you said?"

He might have only imagined it, but Donovan softened a little after that. But he proved he was still an absolute asshole when he yelled out, 'Hey Evan, say goodnight to your daddy,' and like the absolute cheeky brat he was, Evan did just that. (Tommy almost choked on his own spit, but after hanging up, he felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in months.)

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

hwy so can I hVe a scenario with kurt wagner where him and his s/o are in bed together. They have been together for long enough where both have been in bed with one another a ton of times. S/o notices some particular scars along his back that don’t look like they’re from battles he got into. When he lays on his stomach or side. S/o didn’t notice those before despite admiring him sometimes. They look much older and deeper and never healed properly. S/o reaches over and gently touches them and runs their hand along them. Feels a bit like a massage. They don’t know what they are from, but to them it does not matter. He been through something really bad before they waaay met? (Thinking about those scars from his circus days).

~Our Scars Remind Us That The Past Is Real~

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 0.3k

Warnings: we mention scars but not much

Genre: mostly fluff

Summary: Laying in bed you notice scars on your boyfriend's back

A/N: Thank you for requesting! <3

***

Kurt rolls over next to you and you smile at his sleeping form. You're having a lazy day today and he's been in and out of naps most of the afternoon while you catch up on the show you've been watching the last couple of months.

You run a hand through his hair and then trail it down. He settles against your touch as it slides over his neck and shoulders. You glance from the TV to his exposed back. You notice something on the skin of his back.

"Whydyastah-" Kurt says- something, but you can't quite catch it because he's speaking against his pillow.

"Kurt?" You prompt quietly. Maybe he's barely conscious and talking in his sleep.

"Why'd you stop?" He sighs.

"Oh, hi baby I didn't realize you were awake again."

"Yeah, I was just enjoying you touching me, but then you stopped."

"Sorry my darling, I- well I noticed some scarring on your back and got distracted I suppose."

"Oh that." Kurt hums.

"I've never noticed them before."

"They're pretty old." He shrugs.

"Yeah I thought so, but I'm just surprised I haven't seen them until now."

"Do you spend a lot of time staring at my back or something?" Kurt snorts.

"Well, not your back specifically, but I spend a lot of time looking at you overall. I mean, we've even showered together, I feel like I should've noticed these at some point." You frown.

"I mean I don't think it's a big deal, I'm covered in other scars anyway."

"Sure sure, I was just surprised by them, is all. You asked why I stopped." You explain.

You trace your fingers over the scars, soft touches, you're sure they don't hurt or anything, but you always touch him with care. You can't help it, life has been very difficult for him, and all you want for him is peace.

"Liebling?" Kurt hums.

"Yes my love?"

"Where did you go my heart?" He asks.

"Where did I...?"

"I lost you for a moment there."

"I'm just thinking about how much I love you." You kiss his forehead.

"I love you too." He says.

You won't ask him about how he got the scars. It doesn't really matter. It won't change that you love him, or how much. If he ever wants to tell you more of course you'll always listen, but until then, all you care about is that he's here, with you, and whatever horrors he faced he'll hopefully never have to deal with again.

***

[hellishtrickster]

Orianna sighed at Arden's question, tapping her own three-quarters empty tankard. That was a hell of a set of questions, albeit fair ones.

How was she feeling? Well...

"I can't speak for Ben, but I'm feeling quite overwhelmed at the moment. It's a lot to take in, and not a change I expected in my life. Although, I suppose there are extremely few people who expect to become a were-creature. As for what's next..."

She takes a sip of her ale, calm enough now to actually savour the drink.

"Well...I sent a letter forward to Rangrim, explaining what happened. I've asked him to make me some Damascus steel chains for a werewolf form."

Orianna hears a gasp from Delilah at that, and she turns to look at her friend.

"What? I made friends with a Tiefling. I know how people treat your kind, and I decided I didn't want to be ignorant and just listen to people talk disgusting nonsense without piping up. I know...Demascus steel can imprison Infernal folks...and sometimes it hurts," said Delilah.

Orianna shrugs and nods at Delilah's explanation.

"Thank you for educating yourself...I appreciate it. And yeah, Demascus steel can hurt us but...I'd prefer that I get hurt when I transform than risk hurting others. I've never heard of a Tiefling transforming into a werewolf before, and so we don't know what to expect. If there's anything that would be different from a human, elf, dwarf or halfling."

She refuses to bring up her own more unique heritage. That was something she kept largely private. But right now it felt like an anomaly that even she was scared of. Orianna had no idea how it would affect her now.

The only thing she felt certain of, even so early in her transition was that something was developing within her. A change not only to her body, but to her very nature was occurring. As the curse took hold, something was infusing itself into her very essence.

Orianna knew Ben talked about their wolf as being both a different entity, and an intrinsic part of themself. If that was the case, she'd have to welcome her own wolf and make peace with it. Even if it felt like an invader of her very being at this moment in time. Well, she had a month to adjust and try to make peace with it.

Ben gave Arden a grateful nod as he placed the ale in front of them, mirroring Orianna in taking a large swig of their drink. Their eyes shimmered yellow briefly and they smiled as the liquid burned a little stronger than usual down their throat, realising the barkeep had put a shot of werewolf whiskey in it. That was a pleasant surprise and definitely helped take the edge off the strain of the past few days.

The werewolf grimaced as Orianna told the pair of their escapades on the previous full moon night, tips of their ears folding slightly with guilt and sadness. They were quick to chug some more of their whiskey laced ale to get the memory of their sister’s blood out of their mouth. Yet another horrid thing to add to their ever-growing list of nightmare fuel.

They felt sad for Delilah as she gasped. It wasn’t easy to hear your employer was related to a child enslaver, let alone that they had tried to kill some good acquaintances of yours. At Orianna’s nudge they gave a soft hum in their throat only she would hear, their tail brushing across her lower back – letting her know they understood and offering her comfort.

“None of them showed any remorse for their decision, sticking by their despicable brother slash ex-employer to the end.” Not entirely true perhaps as the flash image of the snivelling crying one they had taken care of entered their mind, guilt flaring briefly in their gut. But they shoved it away as quickly as it came. He likely only felt regret because he had seen his brother die and knew he was next. Grey eyes flicked to Delilah. “We took care of everything. By all accounts it will seem like they left town. If anyone asks you can just say you went on lunch and when you came back everything was locked up without explanation. We can cover any lost wages you may need and more until you start with Arden or someone else. Probably not best to move on to a new job right away, less suspicious.”

“Thank you, Ben,” the blonde said with a smile, reaching to take and squeeze their hand before she did the same for Orianna with the other, “Both of you, thank you.”

“Of course,” the wolf-kin said, offering her a smile back.

Arden cleared his throat softly, tapping at his half-empty glass nervously.

“How are you both feeling? And perhaps more importantly, what are you going to do?”

[buck-up-buttercup]

Head-canons on how the Love & Deepspace men comfort a sad MC. I hope this helps anyone in moments of sadness, anxiety, or doubt.

Intro:

It's been a harrowing week. You're overworked, tired, and not taking proper care of yourself. Needless to say, your mental and physical health are lacking. Because of this, you continue to make small mistakes. You're embarrassed, frustrated, and so very tired. Jenna demands you take the next three days off to recuperate yourself. While this is supposed to be a relief, you can't help but feel the shame bubbling up inside of you, on the cusp of boiling over. "Rest well and don't forget to eat! Please call me if you need anything." Tara gives you a reassuring hug before seeing you out. Feeling at a loss, you are in desperate need of comfort. Taking care of yourself even feels like too much on your plate right now. Because of this, you dial the person you know who would do absolutely anything for you in a heartbeat...

Xavier

"Hey." Just hearing his voice answer the phone makes your heart swell and your eyes brim with tears. "...Hello? Y/N, are you there?" "Y-Yeah, sorry..." The moment he hears the tremble in your voice as you attempt to answer, his response is swift and his voice is laced with concern. "Where are you?" Your voice is quiet, "I'm sitting on a bench a few blocks from the association." "I'm on my way, sit tight."

You assume it's due to his ability to teleport that he's able to get to you so quickly. You keep your head down, trying to look as though you're distracted on your phone to hide the fact you have tears pooling in your eyes that you're barely managing to keep from spilling over. You notice Xavier once he kneels before you and immediately encircles you in his arms. He presses your face against the crook of his neck. "Let's go home, okay?" "Please."

Xavier brings you to your apartment. He makes sure you're seated on the couch before asking if you need something. "Just... sit with me..." He doesn't hesitate and immediately pulls you into his arms. He doesn't ask you any other questions. He knows you'll talk about what's upset you if you want to and that for the moment, you just wanted to be held by him. He'd stroke your hair soothingly. You couldn't hold the tears back anymore.

Xavier would hold you for as long as you wanted. Thinking about why you were in this state choked you up, but you wanted to finally open up about your feelings. "Xavier, how do you do it? How are you so good at everything you do? You make it look effortless, too. The only time I've ever seen you struggle is when you tried to beat that claw machine you were so suspicious of that one time." You giggle through the tears as you recount that memory, but Xavier knew you were being serious. "Hmph... I'm flattered you think so highly of me, but I've lived long enough to see my fair share of struggles and mistakes." You sit up to meet his eyes. "What do you do when you're overwhelmed from all your struggles and mistakes?" He pushes your hair out of your face. "Sleep." You couldn't help but to laugh and he smiles softly at that. "Yeah, I am lacking in that department lately." Xavier would take that as his cue to lift you bridal style and carry you to your bed. He'd pull out comfier clothes for you to change into while he went to fetch a glass of water for you.

Once settled in bed, you'd both snuggle up together. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm cut out for all of this," You'd mumble into his chest. "Definitely. Just because you're human doesn't mean you aren't one of the most capable hunters I know." You sigh. "Besides, not just any hunter is worthy of being my partner." He'd huff a small laugh and kiss you on the forehead. You'd laugh softly and hug him tighter. "Get some rest. I'll always be here for you."

Zayne

"Hello?" As guilty as you feel for calling someone as important and busy as Zayne, you are so grateful he picked up the phone to answer you. "Hey! Um, you're not busy, are you?" You couldn't hide the shrillness of your voice from the overwhelming emotions you were experiencing. You could tell Zayne caught onto this. "For the moment, no. What do you need?" You struggled to come up with a straightforward answer. "Well, I just... I..." He waits patiently for you to gather your words. "I guess I just am having a bad day and wanted someone to talk to." Your eyes well up as you try to get the words out. "I hate to bother you, you were just the first person I thought of to call." The anxiety in your chest hurt and you wondered if your voice sounded as shake-y as you felt. "You're never a bother, Y/N." Zayne's voice was gentle and soft. You feel like you can breathe again for a moment, though the tears start to fall as you relax at his words. You sniffle, "I feel like that's all I've been lately." "Y/N, where are you?" "I'm hiding in that cafe a few blocks from the association." You offer a weak laugh to try to play it off like a joke. "I'm on my way."

You're antsy until he arrives. He approaches your table in the corner of the cafe. You are thankful he has a calming air about him, his demeanor never fails to help anchor your emotions. "Do you want something to drink or eat?" He offers. You shake your head, "no, thanks." He observes your face for a moment and then nods. You watch as he goes to order something at the counter. You mull over what to even talk to him about as you wait. So much was on your mind and you wanted to avoid crying in public. He returns with a scone and coffee for himself along with your go-to order. "Just in case," he says before you can object. "You seem like you need a pick-me-up." You nod and meekly respond, "thank you."

You enjoy the food and beverage he got you as you sit in silence for a few moments. You're not decided on how to break the ice and truly just enjoy his company in this moment. As you seem to be lost in thought, Zayne nudges your foot with his under the table. You meet his gaze and he holds out his palm. "Do you remember when we were kids, you got upset the neighborhood kids wouldn't let you play with them? You tried really hard to hide being upset and went to play by yourself." You recall the memory. "I made you this to try to cheer you up." a small snow cat appears in his hand made by his Evol. You smile sadly and take the snow cat from him to admire. "You've always been good at making people feel better. It's what makes you a good doctor." His gaze is soft as a small smile graces his face. "I wish I could be half as good at my job as you are at yours." His brows furrow. "Is this what's caused you to feel this way? A bad day at work?" You nod and look away. "Not just one, unfortunately. I feel like I can't do anything right." Zayne takes the snow cat out of your hand and places it on the table. He softly grasps your hands in his. "We all have bad days, even I do. You shouldn't beat yourself up over it." You nod, squeezing his hands. "Easier said than done." "I know. It's because you care and caring is what makes you good at your job. You're a passionate person. You always strive to do your best." You groan slightly, "if this is my best, then I'm screwed." Zayne shakes his head, "sometimes our best is getting a full night's sleep. Sometimes it's eating a meal. How can you improve if you don't prioritize your own health?" Your eyes start to water, "I am so tired, Zayne." "Go home, clean yourself up, and change into something comfortable. I'll come over after work... Doctor's orders." You smile with relief knowing he cared so much for your wellbeing. "Sure thing, doctor."

That evening, he brought you dinner, watched TV shows with you, and did everything to ensure you were comfortable. Having someone prioritize you like Zayne did made you realize just how much weight was on your shoulders before being lifted by him. "Next time you start to feel overwhelmed, tell me. I am always here to help you."

Rafayel

"What's up, cutie?" You can't hold back the sob as you hear his voice. "Whoa, Y/N, what's the matter?" "Rafayel, I need you to come pick me up." "Tell me where you are, I'll be right there." Your voice is weak and hushed as you try to regain control of your emotions. "Ah... I'm hiding in the lobby bathroom at the association. Just tell me when you get here, I'll come meet you outside." "I'm coming."

It isn't long before you get a text that he's here. You clean yourself up and walk out of the association. Rafayel is waiting right outside the front doors. The moment he sees you, you can see the look of worry on his face. He gives you a brief hug, kissing the top of your head before he leads you to his car, opening the door for you. You feel somewhat uncomfortable, probably due to your embarrassment at struggling not to cry. He sees this and gives you a knowing look, reaching for your hand and holding it the whole ride to his place.

Once at his home, he sweeps you up in a full body hug, picking you up by the underside of your thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He carries you to his bedroom, laying you down and showering you in kisses. "Wanna talk about it?" You sigh, looking up at Rafayel as he hovers above you. He strokes comfortingly along your hips. "I might cry if I do." "Nothing wrong with crying." You hum. "Sometimes..." you hold your breath as you try to keep in a sob. Rafayel crawls onto the bed, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. "You need to let it out, cutie. You might be my bodyguard, but you don't have to hide from me in order to act tough." A dejected laugh escapes you and you meet his eyes with yours, fat tears finally spilling over and falling down your cheeks. "Sometimes I feel like all I'm good for is making messes for the association and making a fool of myself." "That's not true. Our mistakes don't define us. Besides, some of the most beautiful things are made out of the biggest messes. Don't overlook your good qualities and all the wonderful things you do just because you can't see past that mess." You can't keep a small whimper from escaping you as you hug his neck and cry into his shirt. He rubs your back and holds you tight. After a few moments, you try to lighten the mood. "You're pretty wise and poetic. Maybe you should be the next Bob Ross." You giggle and poke his side. "Pfft. As if. No one can replace Bob Ross." You laugh.

Rafayel would make sure you're well fed and run a bath for you. The bath makes you realize just how tired you are. Rafayel wouldn't leave your side, making sure you're tucked into his bed and feeling as loved and pampered as possible. "You're the most amazing woman I've ever met. Don't belittle yourself anymore, okay, cutie? I won't allow it."

Sylus

"Hey, sweetie." You can't help but to sigh in relief that Sylus is available and awake to answer your call. "Sylus, can I come over?" "You know you don't have to ask. You sound upset. What's the matter?" "Ah, I'll tell you later. Are you gonna be at the base? I don't... want to be alone right now..." Sylus sighs before speaking with a voice that seems almost too soft for the leader of Onichynus to be capable of using, "sweetie, do you need me to come get you? Are you okay?" The tears begin falling, overwhelmed by just how sweet he's being and how badly you needed his comfort. "I don't know..." You hate how helpless you sound but you're so exhausted and so desperate for Sylus, you can't hide it. "Okay. I'll be there in 10. Don't stray far." You sit at the top of a parking deck not far from the association while you wait on Sylus. He seems to always keep tabs on your location and never follow speed limits, fulfilling his promise of arriving at your location in a mere 10 minutes on his motorcycle. You're pulled from your sitting position right into his arms with the use of his Evol. You cling to him of your own volition, comforted by his arms wrapping around you. His helmet is off and he kisses the top of your head. "Sylus..." You mumble his name into his chest. "It's alright, kitten. I've got you." You whimper as the sobs begin to wrack your body.

Once your crying begins to cease, Sylus puts a helmet on your head as well as one on himself before driving you back to his base in the N109 Zone. You're thankful that you don't see the twins in your current state, either their absence being due to a coincidence or Sylus having them give the two of you space. Sylus carries you into his bedroom, not letting you go for even a moment. He doesn't press you for an explanation and you're grateful since you still aren't sure how to put your feelings into words. He helps you strip out of your uniform and into one of your more comfortable outfits he keeps for you at his place.

Now feeling more at peace and comfortable, you reflect on your feelings with some clarity. "Jenna gave me three days off because I've been overworking myself." Sylus listens intently, his eyes soft as they read your expressions. "What's frustrating is that I don't even have very hard assignments with my job right now. I get behind on sleep and I lose time in the day for a meal because I keep making mistakes on small tasks which then fill up all my time trying to fix or redo, and... ugh. I just can't get a grip on anything and I'm overwhelmed and I'm tired, but I feel so stupid..." Your eyes begin to water again. "You're not stupid for struggling, sweetie. Jenna did the right thing giving you time off to take care of yourself. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." Sylus pats his thigh for you to come sit on his lap on the couch. You oblige, though you feel shy under his scrutinizing yet loving gaze. He tucks your hair behind your ear. "What starts as a small problem avalanches into multiple problems so quickly. I just feel embarrassed and like I shouldn't even make such small mistakes in the first place... It's become so much on my plate, I don't even know where to start." "Mm..." He appears thoughtful as he analyzes your words. "You need to start with prioritizing your own needs. You can't expect to be on top of everything when you haven't had the proper food or sleep." You nod your head. "I haven't had an appetite or a good night's sleep in maybe a week or so. Most of the time, I'm just getting a few hours and running on caffeine and a few snacks throughout the day." Sylus clicks his tongue. "Next time this happens, kitten, you need to use your resources better. Anything you could possibly need, I can help provide." "I know, I just am not used to asking others for help. It's not that I don't want it, I just forget it's there." "Well, that can't be a plausible excuse anymore." Sylus carries you to the kitchen and sits you on the counter. He throws together something filling yet quick and easy. You thank him for it before eating it.

After eating, he takes you to the bathroom to wash up. You brush your teeth while he changes clothes. Once you've washed up, he sweeps you up to carry you to bed over his shoulder. You laugh and he's happy the notion was able to illicit some humor out of you. Once in bed, he kisses you from your shoulder to your jaw. "Use me whenever you need, sweetie. Everything I have is yours."

Caleb

"Heya, pipsqueak. What ya up to?" His voice was something that could always help ground you when you felt overwhelmed. "Oh. Uhm, well... I'm headed home early. Wanted to see if you were able to talk for a little?" "Hmm? What's the matter? I can tell something's wrong." Ah, Caleb... Always able to see through you, even over a phone call. Though a part of you wasn't sure what to tell him, you knew you wouldn't have called him if you weren't seeking his comfort. "Well, I have been having a rough time at work lately, so they gave me the next few days off. Honestly, it's... embarrassing." Your throat burns as you realize how ashamed you are to tell someone as smart and capable as Caleb that you've been told to take days off for not doing your job well. "Hey, it's okay. Wanna come stay with me these next few days? Give you a chance to take your mind off of things in Linkon?" Your tears fall as you smile at his offer, knowing that was exactly what you were hoping for. "Yes, that sounds great."

You didn't even pack your bags, you felt so tightly wound and desperate to see Caleb, you immediately made your way to Skyhaven to see him. You use the code Caleb gave you to his place to unlock the door. Once inside, you smelt popcorn and followed the smell to the kitchen. There, you found Caleb putting together a tray of your favorite snacks. "Hey, pipsqueak. I thought you might like to watch some of our favorite movies together? Help wind down some." You paused for a moment, letting his words and actions sink in. You were so grateful for someone who knew you and cared for you as much as Caleb did. Overwhelmed by how touched you felt, the tears started streaming again. Caleb immediately frowned and reached for you. You met him halfway and you both embraced each other in a hug. "That rough, huh?" Caleb asks. "I just feel like such an idiot." Caleb cupped your face and made you look at him. "Don't say that, Y/N. It's not true." "But it's how I feel. I can't help how I feel." He wipes your tears with his thumbs before bringing you in closer for another hug. "Then let me help you feel what's really true." He kissed your head and backed you towards the couch before sitting you between his legs and pulling you against his chest. "Y/N, you're amazing. You're bright, stubborn, funny, kind... beautiful. You should never think any less of yourself." You nuzzled your face into his neck and let out a shake-y breath. Your voice was small, "...thank you, Caleb. I'm just overwhelmed. I'm not my best self right now." He pet your head. "It's okay not to be okay, pipsqueak. It doesn't make you any less amazing. Just take it one step at a time. I'll be with you every step of the way, too." You tearfully smiled and nodded. He kissed you so gently, so lovingly. You were finally starting to feel grateful for the three days you received. You wanted as much time with Caleb as possible.

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You reflect on your past with Joel, memories only you know flood your brain at a Fourth of July bash.

Warnings: Langauge, idiots in love.

Word Count: 3.4k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Brought to you by the songs All Too Well and You Are In Love by Taylor Swift

Summer 2003

Sarah Miller didn't think fate existed. At least a fate that worked out in her favor anyway. For example, if fate was in fact real, why did she end up with homework every night? If fate existed, the purple soccer cleats at the sports store would've been in her size. If fate existed, maybe her mom wouldn't have picked up and left before she was old enough to even sit up.

No, fate was a made-up thing for Sarah. Fate, however, seemed to be turning her lucky eye to her father.

Sarah loved her dad, even if he was a bit of a grump sometimes. As the years passed, she slowly learned how much he sacrificed for her. Between driving her to her soccer games and giving up nights when he could be out with Uncle Tommy at some bar somewhere, Sarah knew he loved her dearly.

She could feel his devotion, anytime she got sick at school, he dropped whatever job he had and ran into the nurse's office, frantically looking for her. Even when he'd been out on a date, and she'd broken an arm on her friend's trampoline, he'd pulled up in his beat-up pickup truck to take her to the emergency room.

Sarah loved her dad, and he loved her, there were no doubts about that.

Loneliness. It was something that she'd felt creeping up on her dad's life. Even if he'd never admit it, Sarah could tell he felt alone sometimes. She couldn't quite put it into words, but she saw it in his eyes.

Fate, however, pulled some strings, and before Sarah knew it, you were in their lives.

You were like a fresh spring breeze, blowing into Sarah and Joel's lives and breathing new life into it. It had been the night after your third date with her dad that she noticed it, the giddiness. Her dad had bounced into her Uncle Tommy's home with a pep in his step that Sarah only saw after a high-paying job was finished and the check was deposited in the bank.

"Think he's got it, baaaad...." Her uncle whispered into her ear

Sarah giggled when her dad's expression fell,

"I heard that, Tommy."

Sarah pretended not to see when her uncle flipped her dad off.

You were more fun than Sarah had expected. Sure you talked and listened to her whenever she recounted her latest soccer match or gossiped about the kids in her grade. But anyone could listen to that.

Sarah had only really met one of her dad's girlfriends before. Her name was Alison, and she smelled like fancy perfume. Alison was fine, a bit boring, and far too into romance movies for Sarah's taste. Things had gone south after Alison suggested a boarding school for Sarah.

Sarah remembered peeking through the crack of her bedroom door as her dad threw Alison, her nice purse, and bright red high heels out of their home. He'd polished it off with a, "Don't ever fucking come back."

You and Alison were complete opposites, though. You baked cookies for her friend's party and pointed at the funny-looking fish at the aquarium, making fun of their stupid eyes. You watched the gory action movies with her and her dad, even convincing her dad that a 1 am Dominos was essential to all movie marathons. And yes, you even talked him into those delicious lava cakes the made. You were simply magical.

When Sarah tried dunking you at the pool, you hadn't shrieked the way Alison did when a drop of water came near her precious hair. Instead, you sent a splash so big that Sarah got water up her nose and had the sting of chlorine in her eyes for 20 minutes after that.

Late one night, Sarah had tiptoed downstairs in search of a big glass of water. She hesitated when she was a few feet from the kitchen archway. Soft murmurs filled her ears, followed by a laugh that was definitely her dad's. She peeked around the corner just a bit, wanting a glimpse of whatever was so funny at 2:46 am.

An opened rub of ice cream sat on the counter, the refrigerator door was hanging open, and a can of whipped cream was halfway pulled from its spot in the door. Most surprising of all, though, was the way her dad, certified grump Joel Miller, was twirling you around, dancing in the kitchen, the two of you bathed in refrigerator light like it was a disco ball.

Sarah had snuck back up the steps, a stupid grin on her face, finally, her dad was finding some happiness in his life.

You had fit so perfectly into her and her dad's life. Fate had smiled on her and her dad for once.

What Sarah couldn't understand, though, was how he let you go. It'd been your birthday. Sarah knew it because she marked it in her school assignment book, she wanted to make you a nice card with the colored pencils you got her two weeks ago. Her dad wasn't letting her go to whatever party was being thrown at your little apartment across town. Sarah had begged, but he put his foot down, and instead, Sarah made him promise you'd get the card.

His truck had started, but it was sitting idle in the driveway. The slam of the driver's door had Sarah rushing away from the window. Maybe he'd forgotten something?

"You're not going?"

"No." He said, plopping down on his bed to pull his shoes off

"But it's her birthday." She tried to reason with him

"I don't belong goin'." He replied

"I thought you were invited..." Sarah said

Joel gave her a funny look that Sarah couldn't quite place.

"I was...I am. Look...." He patted the bedspread, beckoning her over, "Sometimes, adults, we just...we got things that are bigger than just gettin' along and watching movies together at night."

Sarah nodded, she knew that. How many times had she heard her dad stress about taxes and the transmission in his truck? It had to have been countless.

"I just, Look, what I'm sayin' is that I'm not what she needs." He says, his voice blank

"But you two seem so perfect..."Sarah trails off

He gives her a sympathetic look, "We're better off apart, real different in age too, it'd go bad eventually anyway, better to cut it off now before you get too attached."

Sarah scoffs, he was speaking like he wasn't equally as attached to you as she was.

"Yeah, okay....I guess I get it..."

She had asked her uncle about it one warm day in early September, thinking about how you could've been the one picking her up.

"Why'd Dad dump her, though? I just don't get it, they were so good together, always smiling and stuff."

Her Uncle Tommy glanced at her in the rearview mirror, a flash of concern on his features,

"Sarah, your dad...he's one complicated son of a bitch."

Sarah snorts, she knew that. Anyone who ever met Joel Miller knew that.

"But, if you wanna know my two cents, I'd say he was scared."

"Scared?" Sarah balks, her dad wasn't scared of anything, "Of what?"

Tommy's voice is so soft Sarah barely hears it over the idle of his truck's engine.

"Fallin' in love. He's scared of fallin' in love."

Sarah Miller wasn't one to believe in fate, after all, it had been rather unfair to her. She could only hope, though, that one day maybe, just maybe, fate might step in again and bring you and Joel back together.

July 4, 2024

You groan as your eyes flutter open, a loud voice registering in your ears.

"Get up!!!"

Ellie's face looms over yours as she pokes at your cheek. You try to shuffle back under the blankets, but she rips them off you. God, she was so cruel.

"Fuck off." You mumble, you need to sleep. You thought only babies were this needy, yet here was Ellie dragging you out of bed...again.

Last night's overnight patrol had sucked the soul from your body. You loved Tommy, but listening to him talk about Cailey for 8 hours was simply too much for anyone. Honestly, you didn't care whether his kid liked socks or not.

"You told me to get you up at Three Thirty. You said we were gonna make cookies for tonight's Fourth of July party. " Ellie says accusingly

You let Ellie drag you out of Joel's bed and down the steps where Dina stands at the counter, ingredients spread around her.

"Sleeping beauty arises." Ellie jokes, presenting you to her friend

You nudge Dina with your elbow, "Don't laugh at that, she's a brat."

Dina laughs anyway, her gaze fixed on Ellie. Ugh, teenagers...so gross.

You teach the girls how to fold the ingredients into the dough and catch Ellie at least three times trying to steal some of the chunks of chocolate meant for the batter.

"You're really good at this." Ellie notes as you drop the cookies onto a sheet

"Thank you." You smile at her compliment

"How long have you been baking?" Dina asks curiously

"Technically, I probably started with my grandma back when I was three. But I guess I really got into it in my early twenties. I baked a lot with Joel's daughter."

You hand the spoon off to Dina, letting her drop the cookies onto the tray.

You're not quite sure what it is, but your eyes have gone misty. You turn your gaze away from the girls and wipe at your waterline with the sleeves of your shirt. Fuck, you hadn't even said her name and you were tearing up.

The sound of the front door opening as you all turn. Joel comes in, wiping at the sweat on his brow.

"How'd it go?" Ellie asks

"Good. Fixed the door to the school and a couple of the wobbly desks for the kindergartners." Joel says, giving the report like the three women in front of him were his supervisors on some big fancy construction project.

You give him a weak smile as he turns to look at you.

"What's wrong?"

He's instantly in front of you, dropping his tool bag to wipe away a tear you didn't realize had escaped.

"Nothing. I'm just being stupid." You sniffle, "We were talking, and I brought up Sarah...my stupid waterworks didn't get the memo that there'd be no crying today, though."

Joel's mouth has set in a hardline, you've touched a subject he hated talking about. He steps back from you, his hands letting your face go, leaving the skin he'd touched burning from some feeling you couldn't quite coin.

His eyes are distant now as he backs away, reaching for his tool bag, "Gonna go put these away in the garage."

You fidget in front of the mirror in Ellie's room. A cute white summer dress sits on your body. It's one that Maria brought you, knowing that you'd love the way it fell to your ankles, hiding the ugly scars on your legs. The issue was the way your bare arms poked out, pink lines of ugly scar tissue lined them, making the dress look horrible.

A soft knock at the door sounds, and you slip your bathrobe back on just as Ellie enters, her hair dripping water onto the faded hardwood floors. Her eyes scan your attire, a fuzzy blue robe atop your upper body with a flowy skirt poking out the bottom.

"What the fuck is that?" She gestures to your upper body

"It's my bathrobe." You say dumbly

"You're wearing a bathrobe to a party?" Ellie asks, her voice filled with judgment

"No!" You groan, "I just hate my arms in this dress."

Ellie gives you a look, almost as if she's saying,' And this is why I don't wear dresses'. She sighs and turns to run a brush through the mess on her head.

"I got this ugly cardigan in my closet. You can wear it if you want." She offers

Instantly, you're off your feet, rummaging in her closet to find said cardigan.

"This is anything but ugly." You point out as you pull it from her closet

"Well, I'm never wearing it, it's all yours." Elie motions

The Tipsy Bison is a buzz with what looks like every single person in Jackson. Music plays from one corner of the room, some guy named Alex who apparently knows how to DJ stands at some speaker set up.

Ellie leaves your side in search of her friends, and your eyes roam the crowd. The school teachers stand in a small circle giggling and pointing at some poor guy who has just tripped and fallen on his face. There's another group clustered together and you recognize them as the younger guys who got sent out on graveyard patrol shifts, Brett tosses his head back and laughs at something another has said.

The people you and Joel had rescued from the Walrus are also here. They sit together at a table in the corner. They were all nice enough but you'd left them alone since they entered Jackson, they deserved a sense of normalcy.

Lana leans against the bar, and a nameless woman whispers something in her ear that makes her blush. You liked Lana, you small talked with her when she was assigned to the greenhouse. She was artsy, always sketching in her free time, plus it helped that she made a mean venison stew.

Your eyes finally lead you to the man of the hour. Joel stands, tucked away in a corner, sipping at a glass of whiskey while Tommy rambles about something.

"Didn't think you were gonna show." Tommy greets you with a smile as you cut in

"Well, free booze is hard to pass up." You say honestly, motioning to your half-full glass, "America's independence is nice too."

"Y'look real nice." Tommy nudges Joel, "Doesn't she look nice?"

Joel nods, not meeting your eye.

You'd crossed a line earlier. You knew he didn't want to talk about Sarah, yet you pushed it anyway. You should've just lied and said there was dust in your eyes or that Ellie had beaten you in Uno again.

"Is Maria here?" You ask, hoping to hold baby Cailey

"Ah, she was but uh, Cailey had a blowout." Tommy huffs, "Went all over her and Maria."

You nod, trying to imagine how bad that must've been.

"Would've gone with them but Maria insisted she could do it alone," Tommy explains, trying to justify his wife's absence.

"You don't gotta worry about me judging your parenting skills, Tommy." You smile

Tommy chuckles and shakes his head, "Shudda smelled it. I don't know what's in that breastmilk but it stunk worse than-"

"We don't need a play-by-play of your kid's shit." Joel cuts in

You suppress a laugh as Tommy shoots Joel a hardened glare.

The party rolls on into the night, and you join Ellie and her little group of teens in a game of Monopoly, somehow losing each time to Dina. By the time you rejoin Joel in his corner, you'd been bankrupt twice.

"It's so not fair. They weren't even alive to see a real grocery store and they're mopping the floor with me." You groan as you flop down next to him on a bench

"Would've made good gamblers," Joel says

You snort, trying to imagine Ellie, Dina, and Jesse at the casino gambling away, "Yeah, right. They'd be broke in the first twenty minutes."

"Sounds like you're speakin' from experience." Joel teases

"No!" You gasp, punching his arm only to hit what felt like a block of muscle

This sends Joel into a fit of laughter as he looks at your perplexed face.

He was gorgeous like this. Warm light bathes his tanned skin, highlighting his sharp features. The whiskey he'd drunk gave his cheeks the softest pink tint as his crow's feet crinkled when he smiled more. A green button-down stretches across his chest, it's rolled up at the sleeves, exposing his forearms to your greedy eyes. Blue jeans that are perfectly hugging his thighs and, erm, other areas compliment said shirt nicely.

You chalk it up to the alcohol, yes, the way he's laughing at you must be the booze in his system.

"You're real funny, y'know that," Joel says

"You just have a terrible sense of humor." You huff, crossing your arms across your chest.

A tingle shoots down your spine when you feel Joel's skin brush yours. His big hand has moved to fix your cardigan, pulling it back up your shoulder.

The soft strum of a guitar starts, and you look over to see a woman you recognize as Nadia, sitting on a stool, her acoustic guitar in hand.

The delicate notes of some unnamed slow song starts as Alex switches from his DJ set to a beat-up keyboard he had. You pick at the skin of your fingernails, watching as Tommy pulls Maria away from her seat and onto the dance floor, Cailey cradled between their chests.

"Can I have this dance?"

Joel's deep voice nearly has you falling off the bench. He stands over you, hand stretched out, offering you a dance. Your face warms as you give him your hand. What kind of a person would you be if you left him hanging?

Joel leads you out onto the dance floor and rests his hands on your waist. You nervously fidget, your hands landing unsurely on his chest.

"I dunno how to slow dance." You quietly admit

Joel chuckles and moves your hands so they link together behind his neck,

"Y'did twenty years ago."

The fuzzy image of Joel spinning you around in his kitchen in front of the fridge comes to mind.

"That wasn't dancing...that was just being stupid."

Joel snorts and shakes his head, "Don't worry, I'll lead."

It shouldn't be as hard as it is, dancing with Joel. Yet here you are, stepping on his toes as he tries to lead you in a dance. Your eyes nervously flick around, wondering if anyone is watching.

All of a sudden as if it's magic, it feels like you and Joel are the only people in the world. Alone in a snow globe that spins round and round, keeping the two of you together forever.

"I'm sorry about earlier." You say, "Bringing up Sarah...I shouldn't have done that."

Joel shakes his head, his mustache twitching as he gives you a small, sad smile, "It's alright. I uh...Talkin' about her it's a good thing. It makes me sad but I feel like..."

Joel fumbles with his words as he tries to think of what he's trying to say. You smile and run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, understanding what he means.

"It keeps her memory alive." You finish for him.

Joel nods and breathes a sigh of relief that you get it.

His dark brown eyes meet yours and your heart speeds up.

Fuck, you knew what was happening, and god was it bad. Joel runs his thumbs against the covered skin of your waist.

"Y'look real pretty tonight, baby." Joel's deep voice crowds your ears, "Sorry I didn't say it earlier."

"It's fine, thank you." You softly say

Was it getting hard to breathe in here? Who the hell was stealing all the oxygen? Probably Tommy and his fat mouth.

Joel speaks again, "Listen, I wanted to ask you if-"

"I, um, I'll be right back."

You force yourself to unlatch from Joel and push your way towards the doors of the bar. Once outside, you greedily gulp in the cool summer air. Crickets chirp as you begin the way back home.

Home. Joel's home was where you had been shaking up. Fuck! You couldn't go back there, not until this stupid feeling in your chest went away. If it ever went away, that is.

You were so stupid, falling for him again. You really didn't learn, did you? Twenty-one years into the apocalypse, you were head over heels for the same asshole who dumped you when you were in college.

College. If only your college roommate, Amelia could see you now. She'd probably either tell you to forget about Joel, or she'd say something about how hot Dilfs were.

The grass tickles your sandal-clad feet as you walk off, away from the bar. You must be the world's biggest fool. Of all people you knew, you knew all too well what he'd done. How he made you feel and then ripped it away just like that. He'd fucking mailed back your things and said your age was the reason for the breakup.

Fuck him. You weren't going to fall for his tricks again. Joel could shove his stupid mustache and his dad bod that made you drool up his ass for all you care.

The loud pat pat of footsteps has you spinning around, wishing you'd thought to tuck a pocket knife into the pockets of your cardigan. A deep voice fills your ears as you meet his eyes.

"Where the hell do you think you're goin'?"

Joel.

Next Part

Here we go, the feelings will be felt. Confessions confessed. Stay tuned for the final part!

Thank you for being patient with me as I write. My college courses are eating up all my time again. The Fantastic Four teaser motivated me to finish this part up for you, thank you, Marvel.

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

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[junedenim]

2013

beneath the boardwalk, part 11 (series masterlist)

do i wanna know?

warnings: depression & desperation

word count: 3.7k

I moved in with Jackson at the end of January. It was sudden and maybe too soon, but I liked Jackson and his place. I had known him long enough and slept (plain old sleeping) with him long enough to know I could live with him. I felt I had grown out of my old apartment. I had expanded so much like I had eaten a Wonderland cookie that the windows were bursting, shattering glass onto the street, and cutting into me.

It was a form of self-harm that unfortunately hurt Jackson in the process as well. I felt early on in living together that we weren't perfect matches. We didn't talk very often about unrelated things, only ourselves. My narcissistic tendencies were often inflicted on him, but he did the same to me, something I didn't mind because we rarely saw one another, only at nighttime.

It didn't help that he was still my agent. I shunned myself from writing a memoir again because there were unavoidable subjects that would expose me to him in unkind ways. I began writing short stories, thinking I would make a collection of them. Jackson found the idea to be dumb but was polite enough not to phrase it like that.

I started to think about my death in horrible ways. I was convinced I'd get pushed onto the subway tracks. I started seeing my dead grandmother around New York and thought I had developed schizophrenia. I wrote a story about it and labelled it as fiction. Jackson called it "depressing" and found it to read like a science fiction mess. Both were true and criticism I could take back when he was my agent, but not as my boyfriend.

I told Fennel and Kaka about the problem and they told me to go see a therapist. I didn't until I got so high one night that I was convinced I was going to jump out the window by accident. Dr. Varma was thirty, blonde, and had these ugly side bangs. The day after my first session I had Opal cut bangs, full-frontal ones, into my hair. They turned out rather well for someone who has unstoppable shaky hands. I got put on an SSRI, which stumped my creativity until I got used to it around March.

I thought about moving back to London but only ever told Dr. Varma this because I figured it would hurt every New Yorker I knew. In general, things felt aimless. Winter tends to have that effect on me. It's consuming and feels like my stomach has a parasite on it and my brain is being squashed between someone's hands. I was also 26, anxious, and terrified by the thought that I was suddenly going to be 27 that year.

It feels anti-feminist to say a man made everything make sense, so, I'm not going to say that, but certain people make everything make sense. Even though Alex and I didn't talk much, the thought that he'd be 27 too made things feel less troubling. Things made sense in his mum's car driving in circles. 

I don't mean to discourage the power of my friends in this process. Opal comforted me more than anyone. I was often disillusioned with how the start of the year had turned out, mostly with my relationship with Jackson, and despite her close friendship with him, she was always understanding. She never pushed ideas on me. Never toward breaking up or staying together. She felt like Dr. Varma sometimes, her words pointing me in a certain way, but I never had to pay her for it. I always knew she just wanted the best for me.

One evening, we watched The Sound of Music and I cried in her arms while Christopher Plummer sang Edelweiss. I declared Captain Von Trapp would be my husband. I sounded the same way I did when I was 6 but he sang with a tenderness I love so dearly to this day. I found comfort in childish things. I realized how disconnected I had become from that part of my life, with the people who gave me life, the land I grew up in, and how much of a tailspin every chapter had felt. The most normal I had ever felt had been 10 years ago. It belonged in a world I never knew.

I knew I had to get out of New York.

*

I bought a plant in February. One that doesn't need much attention and can sit on your windowsill for a year at a time and not die. It made the act of having a plant a lot less beautiful but I felt like a proper starting point for taking care of things, including myself.

During this time, Jackson and I were still together. We would break up in April where I would be accused of using him, something I did partially do. For a long time after I felt ashamed of that because Jackson had been a person who had changed my life, brought my happiness, and had a beautiful friendship. Our relationship began out of insecurity of my singledom but was also built on the foundations of those traits.

I did use Jackson, but in the same way everyone uses a relationship to fulfill a part of their life. If I didn't need a use for him then we wouldn't have been together. However, I admittedly did use him as a rebound, something I confessed to him when I started going to therapy.

Jackson and I didn't talk much about anything other than ourselves, so we never got to the topic of what we wanted from a relationship. I never had any intentions of marrying Jackson, not to say he had any with me either, but he took it a lot more seriously than I did. Frankly, I didn't take anything seriously and that was starting to scare me.

I had maintained the difficulties of a romantic relationship with near-consistency from the age of 18 to 25, which is particularly rare in the 21st century, especially two people like Alex and I. I took my work seriously during that time and when the relationship fell apart, almost everything else fell to the side.

The proper levels for taking things seriously I'm not sure of, but for me, I didn't feel like I showed up, other than with Opal and Jackson. The only two other people I was as close with were an older gay couple that fed me once a week. I was dependent on everyone. Opal went through a lot of shit in 2012 that I disappeared away from and took Jackson with me. I knew I did it but I was too ashamed to make a change or even say sorry for it. Yet, she took our friendship seriously and still showed up for me.

I decided that after my birthday I would take a trip to upstate New York. I picked dates I knew Jackson couldn't accompany me and rented a car. I wanted to be alone. When I told Opal this she asked me if I wanted company. I thought I didn't need it but her question made me realize that what I desired most was genuine socialization.

Even though she hates suburbia and hiking, Opal came with me.

We drove for four hours up to Watkins Glenn. Opal drove us the first two hours out of the city and I drove the remaining four to our hotel, The Colonial Inn & Creamery. Creamery meaning it had a built-in ice cream parlour, which saved us from many late-night snack runs.

The State Park, which was the main reason I went, had these gorgeous waterfalls. Since it was early spring and the air held a slight drizzle, the park was fairly empty. We stopped at the gorge, right where the water falls down, not in some rushing force, but just like that drizzle of rain that surrounded us on a work up to it. It was gradual before forming a small lake at our feet. I squatted, dipping my hand in, and patting the cold water on my face.

"Should we take a break here?" I asked Opal, who was standing beside me.

She loudly sighed, "Yes. Please!" She sat beside me and took chapstick out of her purse. "It's very beautiful," she said while placing it on. "Thank you for taking me."

I smiled over at her. She wasn't elegantly dressed, something out-of-the-order for her. She looked tired from the walking and her jeans were dirty at the bottom cuffs. She placed her arms on her legs and I felt calm. "Thanks for coming with me," I said. 

We didn't talk after that. We had talked the whole trail and we had many words left to say but we watched the water drizzle down the stone, not a sound made.

She stood and began taking pictures. She had begun dabbling in photography at the end of last year when her boyfriend bought her a camera. (Is that a gift most boyfriends get their girlfriends?). I took out my notepad, small and dainty, and a gift from Jackson.

I drew the waterfall. It was two circles to signify the gorge with a bunch of lines cracking down the middle. On the next page, I wrote, Eroding for a billion years until, one day, water spilled out, and here I am now looking at it. How many paths were walked until the water found this one? I'm not good a poetry, clearly, but it was a respectable description of what my mind was ticking through. I found it to be dumb, even when writing it, but paired with the awful drawing I had drawn and more importantly the photo Opal took of me sitting on the rocks, just me and the water. All together it embodied a piece of me.

On our way back to the hotel we bought peach Schnapps. We drank it while we flicked through the television. It undeniably felt like two kids who broke into their parents' liquor cabinet. We each sat on our individual queen-sized beds and I turned to Opal across the gorge that divided us and said, "I think you're my sister."

She giggled while swallowing, trying to keep all the fluid in. I could tell she almost said something snarky but she softened by the time she could speak. She was an only child and she said to me, "Yeah. It feels that way for me too."

*

After Jackson and I broke up, I briefly lived with Fennel and Kaka while I tried to figure everything out. I was writing more ever since Watkins Glen and Jackson, through his kindness and belief in me, set me up with a different agent. There was no promise to be friends, but we knew we'd run into one another again, especially because of Opal. We ended amicably and he helped me move out. We hugged each other goodbye and I didn't see him for a while after that.

I heard Arctic Monkeys would be headlining Glastonbury again around this time. The announcement had been made weeks prior but I hadn't paid much attention to any news, let alone my other ex-boyfriend. I sent an email to Alex because we were old losers who still primarily communicated through it. If Alex ever got Facebook I think we would still be communicating on it to this day.

In the email, I apologized for not sending my congratulations sooner and that I was excited about the next album. On the whole, it sounded sterile and formal. It came off as something a person he’s never met would send as congratulations in hopes he’d throw some money their way.

Alex politely wrote back a thank you and then asked if I had suffered a stroke because I used “your” when I should have used “you're.” I wrote back how I was rolling around in embarrassment from the thought of it alone. He wrote back a note of laughter. After that, things were dry and I didn't hear from him until June.

*

When the band headlined Glastonbury that year, I didn't watch. You can't get the BBC stream in America, which was beneficial for my well-being. I had decided to move on and not be so absorbed with him. Something I never really did. He was hard to avoid.

I had thought the moment I moved out of the apartment Alex and I used to share that all old wounds would feel healed. I had thought leaving New York City would dissipate all the aches in my bones. Every absence was fleeting. However, I needed to go somewhere that didn't feel so loud.

I settled in New Lebanon, New York for two weeks. It was cooler than the heated cemented city. The house I stayed in was an old sawmill with a garden and stream nearby. Since I was staying there alone, I only had make-believe to keep me company. It wasn't the healthiest but it made for good writing.

It also forced me to learn how to cook because there were very few places to eat. Alex called me when I was in the middle of making pasta. I had just gotten a new phone (my first iPhone, the 5) and had yet to transfer all the contacts. 

I picked it up and felt like an old lady with my inability to pick up the call. "Hello. Who is this?"

I knew it from the chuckle alone. "We've really fallen out enough that you don't remember my name."

"Oh." I embarrassingly laughed. "Hey, you. I've just gotten a new phone. It's Apple. The new one. I'm feeling very posh right now. I'm cooking dinner."

"You're cooking?" It's like we had skipped thirty chapters. I had broken up with my boyfriend, started therapy, temporarily moved out of New York City, learned to cook, got a new phone, and learned how to do a cartwheel since we last talked. I had yet to register all of it too.

"Yeah. I've got a house too. Well, temporarily. I'm in New Lebanon, New York. It's a writing retreat. A personal one with no other writers."

"That sounds nice. You've always liked seclusion. You've got chickens too?"

"No. It's making me want to get a dog. Or a cat. Or maybe a cow. You'd hate it here."

"Why?"

"It's quiet. You're alone with your thoughts the whole time."

"Yeah. I would hate it." He grew quiet, like he believed I could read his thoughts across the call line. I probably could. Something along the lines of terror and isolation. He wracked through so much and tried to bleed the rest of it out.

I switched. "It's also home to the Shaker movement."

"What's that?"

"It's these Christians that don't have sex so they don't have babies and they've pretty much all died out but three. I've been to the museum here way too many times because there's nothing else to do."

"You thinking of joining?" He posed.

It would make for an interesting experience. If I ever ran out of topics to talk about I might vow to the Shakers in hopes of getting another book out of it. "At this rate, I might as well. Everyone is either married or dying out here." 

"You can't do that,” he insisted. “It would be a loss to humanity."

"Me having sex?" It was crossing a line. He had a girlfriend and was my ex-boyfriend and I was lonely and thinking about taking a lifelong vow of celibacy. 

He avoided. "Where's Jackson?"

I sighed and stirred a fork through the boiling noodles. "We broke up a few months ago. Nothing big. We're going to stay friends and all that." I said it not quite believing it, dripping my words with sarcasm.

He plainly said, "Sorry about that."

"Eh," I voiced, "what can you do? Que sera, sera is my new motto. I'm becoming a housewife to myself."

An ugly snort sounded through the phone. "Are you high?"

I giggled. "No. This is what happens when I'm left alone in nature for too long. I'll be joining a nudist cult soon. What about you and Arielle?" 

"Fine. You know, I'm touring and all that." He didn’t talk about her with me ever, which was the appropriate thing to do, but I took it as a sign that they were like Jackson and me: never seeing one another and on the edge of a breakup. 

"I know," I said. "How's that going?"

"Good. We're having fun."

"I'm liking the new stuff."

He was short and wanted to change the topic quickly. "Thanks." He was evasive. I don't know what that meant about the subject matter of "Do I Wanna Know?" and I won't write who he had in mind when his pen hit paper. But I have written the history here and you can deduce what you want.

"How's your new material?" He asked. I couldn't remember the last time I had sent him any of my writing. Our art had become separated. He didn’t ask for my opinion. I didn’t ask for his. I think that’s when our relationship died. We were so attached through our love of creating and not sharing that with one another was proof that whatever was left was necrosing.

"Fine, I think. Just short stories for now. I don't know what else to write. Nothing much has happened."

He outwardly laughed. "Seems like a lot has happened."

"Maybe. It doesn't feel like it." He was on the outside looking in, but from within, everything played out slowly, and it all went down in an inevitable nature.

"I get it. I'll leave you to dinner."

So, we faded away from one another once again. We were barely a blip on one another's radar. I went back to the city and lived with Fennel and Kaka until I was done "figuring everything out." I wondered why Alex had called me. If it was just to catch up or he had something to tell me. Despite my loneliness and desperation, I never called Alex. He was always the one reaching out.

I submitted the collection of short stories to my new agent and began renting a studio apartment in Downtown Brooklyn. I began writing freelance again to exercise my writing muscle and get the additional paycheck. 

The night AM was released I listened to it and tried my best not to dissect it. My brain imagined who the muse of the songs but when the album finished I went to bed and decided that all it would be to me was an album. It was nothing more than a collection of good songs.

The Monkeys passed through a week later and I got a text from Katie that we should get lunch. I had a meeting with my agent then so she asked if I wanted to go to the show. I liked the idea of it. Of just being able to enjoy the music again, but I knew my presence didn't exhibit that. I went anyway.

I tugged Opal along with me and we went to Webster Hall. We would enjoy the show. I would get drinks with Katie and that would be it.

It was wishful thinking that I didn't even believe in. I enjoyed playing with fire too much for that to be the case. 

I sat on a couch with Opal squished next to me. Alex sat in a chair to my side and we knocked knees with one another. "When I moved I found all those guitar picks that you misplaced," I told him. I held some drink and leaned on the arm of the couch. "They were behind the couch and under the bed. I found one in one of the kitchen drawers."

He plucked a smile and fell further back in his chair. "Yeah, I was never good at keeping track of those."

"I know," I laughed at him. "I lived with you. It was very annoying."

"I probably left that one in the drawer just to annoy you. I did that sometimes."

I crossed my brows and faked a sternness. “You enjoyed pissing me off?”

He took a deep breath and sank back in his chair. “Well…” He didn’t say anything else. Our conversation conjoined with the group’s and we never discussed how much meaning sat in that single word. Well.

As my time apart from Alex grew, I wondered how much of him I truly knew. He had these secrets he buried deep. Those guitar picks were tokens for me to collect. It was his own game he never told me about. He got a kick out of getting a rise out of me in the same way as when he would call me posh just to get an eyeroll. More and more I felt Alex to be a closed book that I only got to experience a few pages of.

The night grew later and we didn’t feel the need to linger. I felt the doors closing. I felt a need for it to be over. When we got on the subway home, I didn’t know when I would see Alex again. I didn’t know if it would be next year or another decade but I knew it wouldn’t be either of us reaching out. We would run in the same circles. Weddings, birthdays, babies, but we wouldn’t share those with one another. We wouldn’t be plus ones and we wouldn’t be giving presents to one another.

We said goodbye with a wave. I felt stupid for going in the first place. There was a feeling I had held onto what could have been for long enough. When I went to bed that night, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t think about Alex. There was no pit. I didn’t do anything wrong. It just wasn’t right. I was comfortable. 

When I spoke with Alex, every word was spoken with a tinge of hesitance. I was holding myself back. I couldn’t live in that awkwardness and I don’t know why I was fighting for so long to be able to do that. I had invaded his territory for nothing but a few words and a drink. I had surrendered now. Happily.

*

a/n: well, sorry for the wait, followed by the shortness, but i suppose the length illustrates the point. the next part will be much longer and much sooner. i'm luckily in the writing spirit (for now). thanks for reading!

[marinettesaltprompts]

Marinette Salt Prompts: Truth and Lies if they did it again.

Ok so I just saw Ilustrhater today and I ... well I feel that this prompt writes itself doesn't it?

After Alya left with Nino to go investigate the new wielder of the Butterfly Miraculous, Marinette was left alone with Adrien. Sure, Marinette was unsure about what to do, but it would be fine! All she had to do was talk to him ... right?

Well, that seemed to be impossible for Marinette. Unable to talk to her ACTUAL boyfriend, Marinette decided to run off, having used a nearby fire as an excuse to transform, leaving Adrien alone at the cinema for two WHOLE hours because transforming and running off was TOTALLY better idea than asking Adrien what he wanted out of their relationship.

Of course, she was REALLY sorry when she came back to find Adrien still standing there and the movie had already finished, so she tried to make it up to him by bringing him to a nearby cafe. Hopefully that would fix the rest of the day...

Only for that to fail when Marinette once again was unable to talk to her boyfriend. Having ordered some wierd cookies and having accidentally kicked Adrien under the table, she decided to run off again and transform to help Sabrina with a cat stuck in a tree.

It was coincidental that an akuma chose to appear sometime after and Ladybug was there to stop it, but by the time she had detransformed, the ENTIRE DAY had passed without a single bit of communication with Adrien.

Sometime later, Marinette invited Adrien out to another movie, but when he finally got there, Marinette was shocked to find that he had no interest in watching a movie. Instead, he was here to break up with her.

As Marinette and Adrien stood over a bridge, Marinette was starting to tear up as Adrien explained he had no interest in this relationship anymore. Between having lost his father and having been in a prior relationship with Kagami, Adrien told her that as much as he cared about Marinette, he was not willing to put himself in a relationship where his S.O. would run off on him like that, especially since he had already done that to Kagami unintentionally. He missed his father, sure, but he could not forget how his father practically avoided him for most of his life since his mother's death.

Of course, Marinette tried to talk him out of it. Saying that she cares for him, that she had a good reason for running off that day, that he was someone very important to her, but Adrien was having none of that.

Adrien: I still don't understand. Why would you run away? We were supposed to spend the day with each other and just have a good time.

Marinette: I just .... im sorry.... I have no idea how I'm supposed to act in a relationship.

Adrien: Well... admittedly I don't really know either, but I thought that we could have tried to figure this out together. That if I just spent the day with you, I could figure out how to be good enough for you.

Marinette: We still can Adrien. You are good enough, great enough even! Just please ... stay with me. Trust Me.

Adrien: I... I can't. When you left me alone that day... I felt like I lost my family again for the third time. First my mother, then my father, and now the person I love went out of my life. You're telling me to trust you, but how can I trust you when you run off like this? Can I trust that you will stay by my side when I feel the same way? I.... no. I'm sorry Marinette, but this is over. Between everything that happened and now this... I don't think I can be in love again. Not for a while.

Adrien left Marinette in the twilight of Paris, not looking back even as the Heroine of Paris wept and grieved.

[abrakuxas]

Have been reading Batman/Batfamily books from the 70s up and I'm currently at New 52.

I hate most stuff but that are some gems:

S

- Batman and Robin is great most of the time, I cannot complain. The moments I thought were not very much in character ended up being my mistake and I've managed to understand them as genuinely good moments. The arc of Damian's death and Bruce's reaction to it is great and very consistent with how he reacted to Jason's death so many years ago.

- Gotham Academy is almost perfect. I've read the first 6 issues and all the kids are so much fun for me. I don't really agree with Bruce's writing on this first issues? I feel like he is written colder than he used to be written around children. I feel like the writer is doing it from a place of what Batman/Bruce's vibe is, not really from actual understanding of his character, but that's fine cause the protagonist is biased against him anyway, so I can excuse it as her perspective on him. I'm excited to see Dami in the school, I feel like Robin's school life is probably one of the best ideas ever, it worked for Tim Drake before and gothic academy is a great vibe for Damian.

_________________________

A

- Batwoman is also very nice. I think I could've put it in S tier but I've occasionally found myself a little bored by it or skipping something cause it wasn't very interesting to me. Mostly I think Kate Kane is a great character as she had been pre flashpoint and her book did not suffer much from this terrible change in direction. That said I don't care for Maggie Sawyer, I miss Montoya's Question and her dynamic with Kate. I wish Nocturna was better developed as a character as well, as I feel like conceptually she is a great foil for Kate. Alice and Red Alice were not to my taste. The idea and vibes are good but it sometimes feels like a Harley Quinn ripoff that's trying not to be that? Not a very consistent character and having read Alice in Wonderland I feel like this character deserved far better.

- Batman Inc. is... Complicated. I'll just come out here and say it: I do not enjoy Morrison's writing of Batman. I feel like their writing is sometimes TOO meta to a point where they are talking more about the real world IP Batman™ and not so much about Bruce as an actual character. Everything is a big metaphor to what every character represents in our world and not so much what they feel and think, which makes it feel like everything happens in a dreamlike world of concepts and commentary on comics. It's comics about comics and that's boring to me. It's not badly written, just not my cup of tea. That said, this second volume of Batman Inc. was so much fun and at the time it made me FEEL things, even if they were occasionally bad things. I do not like Morrison's treatment of Thalia at all, but overall I rather read a bold yet controversial book than any of the other VERY boring and safey books that make up Batfamily books up until now.

___________________________

B

- the Batman title was not as bad as it could've been. The New 52 is overall a terrible idea and I've seen lots of people say Batman comics got the better treatment out of it and oh boy, I'm so sad for the rest of DC cause most Batman comics S U C K... The Batman title though is mostly fine. Scott Snyder is a good writer. Am I fan of everything he did with this run? Not at all, but he was bold enough to create things, lots of concepts from his run are very very fun and deserve to be core concepts of Batman. It means a lot that the Court of Owls is that popular when the last big villain we got was probably what, Hush? And Court of Owls for all it's flaws is such a better story than Hush anyway. I enjoy a lot of the relationships and character writing here too.

That said, unfortunately, A LOT of the stories are kinda too similar to other stories and feel repetitive if you've read a lot of comics. I've SEEN "Batman disappeared and we're worried about him" just before Flashpoint, I don't need Bruce to be away in a maze (even though it's far better written than Batman RIP to my taste), same thing with Endgame... I've read Contagion and we don't really need ANOTHER pandemic in Gotham. But anyway, maybe that's a me problem more than it is the books problem. Snyder is very competent and his stories can be very very fun and even though not every idea works for me, at least he treats characters with respect and care.

_______________

C

Nightwing is the reason I started reading comics back when I met him in the Starfire goes to the future episode of Teen Titans cartoons and he was THE COOLEST GUY EVER. That said WHY is it that everytime they decide to give him a solo book he is 100% solo? Dick Grayson's best traits comes from his relationship. His weird older-brother-turned-father relationship with Bruce, his guilt towards Jason's death, his situationship with Barbara, his brotherly relationship with Tim and Damian, ALL of his Titans relationships. That's Dick Grayson. So WHY is he solo dealing with "the circus you grew up with is actually EEEEEVILLL and your childhood besties (WHO???????) want to kill you"? It's not just bad and boring, it's a weird trend that has started back with Chuck Dixon's run on him. That's a celebrated run that I don't understand, it's kinda fun at best but alienating at worst, which is sad cause Dixon's Batman run is quite good for Batfamily and Dick Grayson in my opinion. Anyway, this book sucks, what's next?

- Grayson. It's not necessarily badly written but who are this people? Give him back his suit, give Helena Bertinelli her suit and put them back in Gotham. Fuck Spyral and all cops are bastards, moving on.

- Batwing: I don't care for David Zavimbe, but Luke Fox had very fun writing and high stakes, I really enjoy this character, I wish he had more time and a better name. I like the idea of rich family boy finds out the reason all this Bat kids work is that they have absolutely no one except other super heroes and doing this with an actual, functional family is so fucking harder. This is not in C cause it's boring, it just had no time to cook better stuff, but I had lots of fun.

______

D

Detective Comics, Batman Eternal and Batman TDK have the same problem: they are not actual stories about actual characters they are excuses to keep an IP. It lacks personality, it lacks anything of interest, it's Batman living through an eternal hell of generic stories that take him nothing to nowhere, you lose nothing by skipping this, this is what people that don't read comics think comics are: nothing happens and every week Batman just fights a guy again.

Batgirl: Gail Simone can write the hell out of Barbara Gordon... As an adult woman.... In a wheelchair.... With the Birds of Prey.... Why is this 35 year old calling herself Batgirl again? Disgusting, ableist and very boring. And the ableism isn't JUST on Barbara, her Brother's treatment is honestly horrendous. And Batgirl of Burnside is not much better with her Oracle persona turning into an evil algorithm that she needs to talk down and destroy??? Fuck you, DC comics. I will not get into the weirdly transphobic story of a guy doing drag as Batgirl being treated as a monster and ridiculous. I will add though: if you really needed a college age Batgirl, you HAD Stephanie Brown AND Cassandra Cain. Oh wait, NO YOU DIDN'T, CAUSE YOU DISAPPEARED WITH THEM, RIGHT YOU MORONS???? I cannot believe how much better this could've been if we got roommate Cass and Steph as Batgirls attending college together and how their different personalities work off each other and in class. Also Barbara Gordon being 21 is probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever read.

Red Hood and the Outlaws: absolutely nothing of worth here except a couple of Jason x Bruce scenes, but barely. Lobdell can't write a villain to save his life and all the characters are just either thrown into the trash or we have Jason who is not necessarily thrown into the thrash but for some fucking reason has random mystic powers and training....? I don't know, I feel like it's the most convoluted type of story I've ever read, he was raised from the dead by the League of Assassins, WHY does he have to go away from them and then train with ANOTHER also league of also assassins? Lobdell is AI Writing before AI writing existed, it's insane.

I've also read Teen Titans and I uh... Rather not talk about.

[blackcatxmagic]

Nodding, Winter agreed, "Yeah, especially me. I mean...I always have honey here. It's sort of my thing. But I need different ways to enjoy it or else I'll...well, stop enjoying it, you know? And I don't want that because..." Winter trailed off; he knew what he was about to say, but he also knew it might sound stupid. Still, he said it anyway, telling Stoker, "It's so much a part of who I am, beekeeping and selling my honey and all of that, and I kind of don't know who I would be without it." There was one thing though that Winter didn't say out loud: that his bees brought him so much comfort because sometimes it felt like they were the only ones to truly understand him. Their bond was unexplainable and deep, and Winter truly loved them. But he thought that might be too much for Stoker. It seemed like the other understood Winter's point though, and that made him smile. Yes, he was glad the two of them had met.

Upon giving the honey to his new friend, Winter saw his reaction, which made him smile even more in turn. It always felt good to him to make other people happy, and he already knew he'd be giving Stoker another free jar of honey at some point. "It's no big deal," he said, still grinning at them. "I mean...I've got more honey than I can manage sometimes." Right now he didn't have quite as much because it was winter, but he still had more than enough to sell at the markets for the next couple of months. And besides, that wasn't Winter's livelihood anyway - he'd only ever done this because he loved it, not as a job. "I wanted to do something nice for you," he said softly. "I just...I always appreciate when people like me." Winter felt himself getting a little vulnerable now, and he blushed slightly, but still he continued. "Sometimes people think I'm weird or are put-off by the fact that my memory is so terrible," Winter explained further, "so I just...I'm glad you're not one of those people." His cheeks were just a little redder now, but Winter didn't feel embarrassed; he felt like Stoker would understand.

And that was why Winter found himself talking further about the memory issues - he could tell that Stoker wouldn't judge him or make an excuse to leave or something (at least he hoped not). "It's...it's been hard," Winter explained. "I don't even remember how to drive. You know that car in the driveway? That's mine, but it's pretty useless to me. And...and it's not just like a couple of notes." He walked over to a drawer nearby and pulled it open, taking out a stack of notes and holding them up to show Stoker. "See what I mean?" He didn't want to dwell on it too much, but it just felt nice being able to open up about this. There were some things Winter didn't say though, like how he was afraid to even try learning how to drive again because he was worried he wouldn't be able to retain anything he learned. This felt too personal to reveal though, at least for right now. Stoker had nothing but positive and encouraging things to say, and their support made Winter smile, feeling a little less self-conscious. "I'm getting by," he replied, "I am. It's just...it's hard sometimes, and it's embarrassing too." His cheeks were just a little red now, but mostly Winter felt safe and comfortable with his new friend, and he appreciated that greatly.

After the pair had made their tea, Winter sat at the counter with Stoker, taking a sip. "Another way I like honey is on toast," he told Stoker. "Just like drizzled on. If you haven't tried it, well..." He trailed off, nodding toward the jar of honey he'd given the other, a smile on his face. For a couple more minutes, they sat there enjoying their tea, and Winter asked, "So what do you like to do in your free time, Stoker? I guess we still don't know a ton about each other, do we?" Winter felt like Stoker could end up being a good friend, but he wanted to know them more. He removed a small notebook from his pocket as well as a pen, blushing slightly once more. "Is it okay if I take notes?" Winter asked the other.

Stoker laughed. "I am a tea person, yeah. I'm a bit of an avid drinker in general, so I'm a big fan of a lot of drinks, but tea has always been up there with my favourites," they explained, giving a completely unnecessary long winded answer, not unlike Stoker. "I think that's a perfectly acceptable reason to be a tea drinker," Stoker shrugged. "I mean, if you stuck to straight honey all the time I feel like you'd be more likely to get sick of it by now," which definitely wouldn't be a very good thing for someone who was so involved with the making of honey.

"For me?" Stoker confirmed, the smile already on his face growing larger. While he knew that Winter was kind and generous, he didn't expect a whole bottle from his best batch of the year, and that oddly touched Stoker. "Thank you very much, Winter. I'll treat it like liquid gold," he chuckled. He already knew that Silas would be benefitting from the gift too, which made Stoker feel hopeful that he could pay Winter back by sending Silas and his thick wallet his way with some business.

The switch up in conversation to the topic of Winter's accident was one that surprised Stoker so very much, but it wasn't unwelcome. If anything, Stoker valued honesty, particularly when it was honesty regarding something so vulnerable. "You haven't told me this before," Stoker reassured him. "I think the notes are a great way of managing that, that's a really smart use of resources," Stoker's words were completely honest, and his tone was relatively stable; he didn't want to come across like he was pitying Winter in a way that would make him feel less than other's without issues similar. "I know my words are just, well, words, but you don't need to hide them from me." Stoker didn't know how deep Winter's embarrassment went, but he truly did want his friend to know that there was no reason to be ashamed.

"Thank you," Stoker was more than happy to busy himself by putting honey into his tea and moving on to a conversation about it instead. While he meant what he said when speaking of Winter's accident, seeing the way that the other reacted to having left a note out, Stoker didn't want to force him to ruminate on the subject. "This smells amazing with the honey in it," he commented, smile as bright as his sparkling, friendly eyes.

[miss-conner3]

so if your lamb is allergic/vunerable to cuteness as are you, now this might be dumb to say but are you perchance.......the lamb...HM?! u better answer this because now i'm curious as much as my brain can

(note i am NOT being serious asking this, i did follow u though since ur art with that lamb giving all the cult money for that halloween thing was sweet af)

Trapped (OoO)

Nah, lie... let me explain (UuU)/

I would say my lamb was the result of most of my decisions I made during my first playthrough.

Most of which were some silly things like:

To think that not all followers would return alive from a mission trip. (I stayed in the cult the first few times I sent my followers, wondering if they would return safely rather than if they would return with what I asked of them.)

Surprised that the faith of his cult dropped so much after returning from a crusade of no more than three days. (Although, in reality, I could see his state in my crusades; I just didn't notice it until afterward.)

Always yelling “¡I’m going to die!” when cornered in some crusade, only to later remember that he had a curse or some relic left that he could have used to defend himself. (At first, I did everything only with the weapons because I didn't remember the commands for the other two things, so, because of that, I always ended up dying XD)

Or lose life like crazy despite being the strongest in the place. (Easy level. Please don't judge me.)

There were also my comments and reactions to the game, which, in the end, helped me to finish defining my lamb's personality. Which was defined more or less like this:

“A little lamb who depends on people, who gets attached quickly, who suffers with the deaths of both his followers and his own, who has trouble remembering basic things, but who could easily beat the shit out of you once he remembers how to handle his own crown.

And despite all his power, he was afraid when facing The One Who Waits and his disciples. Only to be flabbergasted when he quickly defeated the two kittens and even more intimidated when he easily defeated Narinder himself.

A little lamb who is still learning, who is still looking for answers, and who is still surprised by every little mortal thing that happens in his cult.

Because for him, all of that matters.

Absolutely everything.”

So, I'd say the lamb isn't me, but it's based on me XD

I hope I explained it well (owo)

¡Thanks for asking!

[lukazade]

tfw you had a bad mission and now you're both mad but you still love each other very much