#but its not often i meet another guy who goes there

[mothmanriley]

I'm a really big fan of Joey's subsystem para-whatever the fuck . it's a series of increasingly difficult elden ring bosses that take damage from such things as : folding laundry

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"Hello." A dull thwack sound reverberated across the rooftop, leaving the boy who snuck up on Red Robin clutching his head. The boy, a meta if the large animal ears and tail were anything to go by, shook off the pain and pouted up at him, "What was that for?!"

The vigilante was unrepentant, holding his bo staff in a ready position, "You snuck up behind a vigilante at night. In Gotham."

"Okay," the meta conceded, still pouting. "You have a point there. Robin threw ninja stars at me when I tried to approach Batman."

That got Tims attention, "You tried to approach Batman? Was there something you needed?"

The kid suddenly got serious, "My mom went missing. I haven't been able to contact her for almost two weeks now."

Red pulled his arm closer to his face before he began typing on his wrist computer, "Can you tell me her name and date of birth?"

"Um." The other teen fidgetted with his tail a bit, "Okay, so...she's kinda Cheetah."

"...come again?"

"She's Cheetah. The...the supervillian."

Red Robin stared at him, and honestly who could blame him? The bats hadn't even known Cheetah had a son. "So why are you in Gotham? Why not ask Wonder Woman for help? Cheetahs one of her rogues not ours."

The teen shook his head, "She went to meet someone in Gotham before she disappeared. She seemed really agitated before she left, almost scared. I've never seen her like that before." He paused, giving the vigilante time to type before continuing, "I didn't go Wonder Woman since I figured I would wind up needing to talk to a bat anyway since its your turf and all." He said, waving a hand as if gesturing to the city around them.

"I wasn't aware Cheetah had a kid."

The meta grimaced, "she didn't until a year ago."

Red gave him a look, as if urging him to go on.

The meta chuffed, sounding a lot like whatever big cat he was supposed to be, "I'll only tell you my tragic backstory if you promise to help me find my mom."

"I'll find your mom." The bird said without an ounce of hesitation. Tim was a little offended. Did this guy think he was going to leave his mom in danger just because she was a criminal? Appearently so, seeing as the teen looked so relieved at his words.

"Okay, so my bio parents were evil mad scientists. Always a bad start, anyway they were obsessed with the occult and one day they suddenly took me and my sister to Brazil to hunt for some artifact of another. That alone was strange but weirder still was the fact my creepy godfather was paying for it all. He usually only does something like that when he's plotting "

"Plotting?" The detective interjected, "you make it sound like he does that often."

"Yeah. Hes a supervillian." The meta said casually, as if he didn't just leave Tim reeling, but the kid wasn't done yet, "He's had a massive crush on my bio mom since collage and never let it go no matter how many times she rejected him. She even married my dad, his best friend, and this dude just kept simping for 20 years." The teen rolled his eyes, "Hes convinced himself that if he murders my bio dad then my bio mom will fall in love with him and me and jazz will be "his"." He said that last part with fingerqoutes and a disgusted expression.

Tim filed that away for later, "Can I have his name, if nothing else?"

The teen seemed reluctant for a moment, "You're the worlds greatest detectives. You'll find out even if i try to hide it. Besides, I'd probably be better off if you and the Justice League know everything anyway."

Tim was...surprised by that. Most people usually weren't this open with them.

"His name is Vlad Masters, he also goes by Plasmius when he's dressed like a wannabe vampire. He's a ghost who's repossessed his corpse. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton, who are obsessed with ghosts and have convinced themselves that all ghosts are evil and must be destroyed, regardless of how much evidence points to them being wrong."

"And your name?"

The meta grinned at him, showing off four very sharp fangs, reminiscent of the large cat he takes after, "You can call me Jaguar. We were exploring a bit when I broke off from my family and got jumped by one of them. Suddenly I was struck by a claw and turned into furry bait. Fluffy stopped trying to make me his lunch and just stared at me before walking away, which was wierd. Then my parents found me, accused me of being a ghost, because thats naturally what someone would assume when thier son sprouts cat ears," he said while rolling his eyes.

"Naturally." Red joked, which had the benefit of making Jaguar smile.

"So my parents chased me through the jungle, shooting all the while, then suddenly a portal opened up in front of me. I'm not stupid, I know there was no way this wasn't a trap. I mean, a portal opening up right after that bizarre series of events and its the same shade of glowing green as the wierd death go my parents are obsessed with? There's no way they weren't related somhow, but I was desperate and jumped through anyway."

"I landed in another jungle, or the same one in a different location, I'm not sure. I tried hunting and foraging but wasn't very successful at either." Danny still remembered the throbbed in his head when he had headbutt that tree after missing his pounce on that pig he had been stalking. "Thats when Cheetah found me. She took me in and taught me to hunt and fight."

-----

Possible plot twists:

1. Danny isnt Phantom in this au

2. Danny is Phantom in this au but is trying to leave that life behind

3. My favorite. Danny has the ability to manipulate and control animals into doing his bidding with the effect of jaguars and other big cats being the most prevalent and he just doesn't realize it.

One of Cheetahs friends/allies realizes cheetah has changed and suspected something and convinced her to leave for a while to see if her care for this kid faded after a while away from his presence. It works and Danny loses another parental figure/possibly attacked by them too.

[joels-shitty-puns]

I'm gonna make a request again (sorry your last one was too good for me not to ask again) but this time for a jealous Joel! Maybe the reader and him have been friends for a while and she's oblivious to his flirting and she finally lands a date? How it goes from there can be up to you! I just love the jealous and possessive trope.

The Jealousy Bug

Pairing: Jealous!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Hi!! I'm so sorry this took me so long to write, but thank you for the request!! I hope you like it!! I got a lil carried away... hope its not too much smut.

~~~~~

(Reader and Joel live in Jackson, amid the apocalypse)

Word count: 6.8K (oof)

Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI!! Smut smut smut. P in V sex (likely unprotected but not specified. Its an apocalypse, yo.), masturbation (m and f), sort of dubcon? voyeurism?? sorta?, kissing, talk of genitals and arousal, horny behavior. Explicit language and mean names. Alcohol. Violence: infected, guns, punching, mention of a knife. Joel is kind of a jerk sometimes. Possessive. Mentions of loss and grief (all within S.1 of TLOU). I haven't played part II yet so we're just gonna ignore what we know happens there. Joel and Ellie are happy in Jackson. Joel and Reader are friends and sort of neighbors. Clueless idiots in love. A total asshole of a guy in the town. Lil bit of fluff/romance? Mention of bugs (pill bugs), but not in a gross way. If I missed anything, please let me know, and I apologize!

Other Stuff: Avoidance of reader descriptors, other than reader is AFAB. Mentions of having hair on the noggin. She/her pronouns. Reader is clueless and also clumsy as hell. Reader also drinks coffee and alcohol. Italics indicate thoughts.

__________

It was around 4PM when you filed into the community center for another mandatory patrol meeting. It may be an apocalypse, but even now, you wished this meeting could have been an email instead. Alas, that was a thing of the past, and you were unfortunately stuck listening to the usual spiel about necessary vs. unnecessary items to raid… The importance of remembering to ABC, “Always Be Cautious,” plants that can and can't be eaten, etc.

You sat in your usual spot, the back row next to Joel Miller. A year ago when you first moved to this town, first started patrol, you came into this very room not knowing anyone. Friend groups stuck together, each of the two front rows filled, yet a few empty spaces here and there. Instead, you walked towards the back of the room. A handsome man, who you soon learned was named Joel, sat by himself, three rows back, behind the last full aisle. He was alone. The whole aisle of chairs was empty. He sat with his arms crossed, and you could tell based on his posing that he was not the social type. 

You were feeling a bit nervous, having finally found a sort of civilization in this mess, and hoping the people of Jackson accept you and not just shoot you, like most camps do when they see unknown faces. Unsure where to sit, you continued to head towards the back, slightly drawn to the gorgeous gray-haired man in the last row. Not wanting to intrude, you sat at the far end from Joel. You could feel his eyes on you as you sat, but you didn't dare look over and make eye contact. Years of survival instincts have told you that, especially when someone doesn't want to be bothered.

_____

When you first walked into the room, Joel looked up. He sat in the back row, as usual, not wanting to get close to anyone. However, even if he did, nobody gave him the time of day. They have heard stories of what he’s done, they have seen him around town, often grumbling about something. They could tell he wanted to be left alone and they had no interest in testing how badly he wanted to be left alone.

Joel found it easier to not form connections. Tommy kept telling him to make friends, come around more, socialize in the town. But Joel had learned over the years why making connections never ends well. All he has is Tommy and Ellie, and neither of those were his initial decision, but Tommy is his only family, and somehow he let himself care for Ellie.

But when Joel saw you… there was a flash of longing. He saw you smile gently at Tommy with a small wave. He could see you shrink walking to your seat past the cliques. You were beautiful, and if it were pre-pandemic, you'd be the exact type he'd probably take interest to.

But those days are over.

Or… so he thought.

He set his eyes back down on his hands in his lap, avoiding eye contact with you when you sat down at the end of the row from him.

Why did she sit so far away? Am I that horrible to be around? His heart questioned.

You don't want to be near people anyway. Good she sat far away. Leave me alone. His brain tried to argue.

Tommy droned on and on, the meeting nearing an hour by now, and you could feel Joel’s eyes on the side of your face every few minutes. You don't know why he kept staring, but it made you feel nervous. Did you have something on your face or clothes? Did you smell bad?

Tommy knew his brother well, sometimes more than Joel likes to admit out loud, and as he talked, he took note of Joel’s staring. At first his expression looked confused, maybe irritated or disgusted. Then it looked slightly… disappointed. But he kept stealing glances your direction, and so with a smirk, Tommy assigned the two of you to be on patrol together. Joel questioned his reasoning afterward, but he knew there was no point arguing with his brother.

After that day, you patrolled together. You both went to the bar with the group after meetings. You sat closer and closer to Joel. You managed to get some words out of him, and he listened to you chatter on. But it was when you brought him a cup of coffee before patrol one morning that he finally let down his guard. His heart had betrayed his defenses.

“What's this?” He asked, gruffly.

“Coffee, Joel…” you replied with a joking eye roll. “It's black. I know you don't like anything in it.”

He took a sip, shocked to taste that you actually knew how he took his coffee. “How did you know that?”

“I notice things Joel.” You patted his shoulder, walking towards the group.

_____

Now, a year later, the two of you were very close friends. You still surprised him with things you remembered or noticed, but much to his chagrin, the one thing you didn't pick up on were his advances. He'd call you pet names, be sweet to you, treat you like a gentleman, flirt a little, and it was like talking to a robot. You were clueless.

Tonight's meeting finally ended, the large group heading outside to the chill fall air. “You wanna get drinks with the patrol squad?” you asked Joel. 

“Wouldn't miss it,” he winked at you, putting his leather jacket on his shoulders.

Although you went as a group, ultimately you and Joel spent most of the nights in your own little bubble, occasionally making space in your circle for Tommy, or Maria if she joined.

Tonight, the two of you sat at the bar, the patrol group spread throughout the room at different tables. Joel excused himself to use the restroom, and while he was gone, Jimmy, one of the other patrol members approached you. Hurrying before Joel returned, he flirted and asked you out on a date. You told him you'd think about it, that you weren't sure if you were ready for a relationship after years of caution.

Not technically a lie, you thought. Although you really just weren't ready for a relationship because your heart was already taken by your handsome best friend. 

Joel returned just in time to see Jimmy walking away. “What did he want?” Joel grumbled. “Ah nothin, just wanted to say hi while getting a drink,” you lied. Joel accepted this answer and the two of you drank into the night. At the end of the evening, you seemed pretty drunk. Jimmy offered to walk you home, but before you had a chance to reply, Joel replied for you.

“I'll take her home, thanks.” He bit, turning you away from Jimmy. “I don't like the idea of that boy walkin’ you home. Don't trust ‘im. ‘Specially not when you're in this condition,” he wrapped an arm around you, shuffling you toward the door.

“You don't think I can handle myself, Joel?” You asked him, pulling away, a little bit irritated at him treating you like a weakling. “I seem to do just fine on patrol,” you argued.

“I know that, sugar. I didn't mean it like that. I just don't trust that guy. Heard how he goes through women. Don't want him trying’ anything with you,” he brushed his hand over your hair, causing you to soften at his words and actions.

You gasped lightly. “Is THE Joel Miller… jealous?” You knew he wasn't, but why not test the waters?

“What? Jealous? Of what? No ‘m not.” he balked. “Just lookin’ out for you…”

“Mmhm… you just wanna be the only big strong man walking me home, huh?” You teased, tripping over your own feet. 

Joel caught you in his arms. “Big strong man, huh? ‘S that what you think of me?” 

Shit… did I say that? You panicked. Maybe I'm more drunk than I thought…

Deciding to tease it off, you replied, “well you do always seem to catch me when I fall…” with a wink.

Falling in more ways than one… you thought, frustrated.

He rubbed his neck with the hand not holding you upright. You could almost see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

No, that has to be the lights playing tricks on my eyes… you thought. No way Joel Miller was blushing at your words.

“I kinda have to, ya big klutz. Practically a liability. I oughta tell Tommy to add a safety section on patrolling with you,” he bantered.

“Ah, shut up” you laughed with a push, causing yourself to lose balance instead of Joel. He just gave a knowing look, causing you both to laugh as you continued walking, now side by side instead of him holding you up.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke up. “You know, I could've walked myself home, Joel,” you stumbled, giggling.  

“Whoa there, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around you again, propping you up. “Don't worry about it. Let's just get you home. You've had way too much to drink.”

“You're so sweet Joel,” you pouted at him, booping his nose. “Joelly Joel.” You giggled. “Jolly Joelly.” Another giggle. “I dunno why people think you're so grumpy. I think you're just a big teddy bear,” you closed your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder while he stumbled forward, trying to keep you upright.

“Who says I'm grumpy, darlin’?” He tilted his head towards you, smirking. “The whole town, silly. Silly Joelly. Joely-poly.” You gasped abruptly, causing Joel to jerk and turn to face you. “What? What is it?” His hand reached for his knife on his hip. Old habits die hard.

“Joely-poly!!” You squealed. “Awe! Roly-polies. Remember those!? I used to love them when I was little.” You pouted. “Before this whole world went to shit.”

Joel thought back to the little pill bugs, playing in the dirt with them when he was younger. Teaching his own daughter about them. His heart aches for what he lost, but he also thinks of Ellie. He bets she would love the little bugs too.

“That's a cute nickname for you,” you smiled. “They're so cute. Just,” you booped his nose. “Like.” Boop. “You,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Another gasp from your lips.

He flinched again. “Darlin’, if you don't quit that I swear-”

“Joeeeel!” You pouted. “Do you think the roly-polies all died off with the infection!?” Your eyes welled up.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. There's probably still some out there. Bugs could get cordyceps long before the fungus attacked humans, and they were still alive back then.” You looked up into his deep brown eyes through your fluttering lashes. “You really think so?” You leaned in, placing both your hands on his cheeks. His breath caught in his chest. “Darlin’, you drank a lot tonight-” you cut off his sentence, running your hands down his neck, resting your palms on his chest. His heart was beating a mile a minute. If he didn't know better, he'd worry his heart would leap out and fly away. 

Your eyes lit up and you slid off his chest, lowering clumsily to the ground and gripping his sides for balance. You were now on your knees, eye level with his crotch, hands on his hips. His breath was ragged and his stomach full of twirling butterflies. “Wh-what do you think you're doin’?” He asked nervously. You looked up at him with big eyes, your hands slowly falling down from his hips to his thighs as you tried to balance yourself in your drunken state. He couldn't help but feel his pants begin to tent at the position you were in. He would never take advantage of you in your current state, but trying to ignore the desire brewing in his body after so many months of unrequited feelings was challenging. Did you finally see his advances for what they were? Feelings instead of friendliness?

You grinned up at him, finally regaining balance. “I'm gonna go look for ‘em!” you turned and waddled away on your knees, heading a couple feet away, towards a patch of flowers off the path.

She just needed to use me as a ladder, or what…? Joel thought to himself with a sigh and shaking his head in disappointment, his sexual frustration at its breaking point.

You crawled forward, falling onto your hands and knees in the soft dirt. Joel quickly stepped forward to try and grab you but realized, despite your lack of grace, you meant to do that. “Ugh… darlin', it's dark out here. It's cold. You're drunk. Let's get you home.”

“I'm looking for buggies, Joel!!” You leaned towards a leaf, arching downward so that your face was closer to the ground, ass up. 

“Oh, have mercy…” Joel groaned under his breath, his eyes drifting downward. Your ass was up in the air, facing him, the fabric of your dress having fallen forward towards your front. Your light pink panties were on full display for Joel, leaving little to his imagination in this position. Joel subtly adjusted his pants, looking up to the sky and shaking his head in a silent plea. 

You whined. “Joel, I don't see any.” You leaned farther forward, wiggling your butt somehow higher. Joel looked around, panicked at the thought that someone else might see you in this position. But luckily, you were close to your house and it was just the two of you out here. He turned back to you again. “I think it's time you get up and we go in-” you moved further forward, the streetlight shining above you and illuminating your ass. Joel tried to be a gentleman, but his eyes betrayed him. As he snuck another glance, he couldn't help but notice a little wet spot over the crotch of your panties. “In-inside…” he finished his sentence, words catching in his throat. He gulped, trying to divert his eyes. 

Taking a shaky breath and stepping forward, trying to ignore the throbbing need in his pants, he lightly grabbed your arm. “It's time to go sweetheart. The bugs are sleepin’ I think.” 

You looked at him and smiled mischievously. “I know, Joel,” you winked. Jumping up, you scampered towards your house, leaving Joel to wonder what the hell just happened.

“Woman's gonna be the death of me,” Joel muttered under his breath to himself. He caught up to you, just as you both approached your house. “Joel, I don't wanna go home. Can't I stay with you? And Ellie?” you batted your eyelashes at him. He rubbed his neck. “Ellie's with a friend tonight. But, you do have a point. You probably shouldn't be left by yourself in this state. Don't want you gettin’ hurt, or sick, and bein’ all alone.”

“Such a gentleman, Joel.” You touched his bicep, the two of you walking towards Joel's house across the street.

Hardly, he thought, grimacing at the reason he was aching in his trousers, feeling like an old creep, and a terrible excuse for a friend.

Once inside Joel's house, he gave you a baggy sleep shirt and a glass of water with some crackers to help with the alcohol. You changed, brushed your teeth with a spare toothbrush, and used the restroom. He let you have his bed, while he took the couch down the hall, scrunching his legs up to barely fit.

_____

Joel tried his hardest to ignore what he saw earlier and just go to bed, but the aching only continued, making it impossible to sleep. Sure that you must have fallen asleep by now, tucked away in his bed down the hall, he quietly reached into his pajama bottoms and boxers, pulling out his rock-hard penis. Even the mere touch of removing himself from his pants caused him to hiss, so worked up he could have cum just watching you bent over earlier.

He was a gentleman, but he was still a man, and one that hadn't been with a woman in a very long time. With as many people as he'd lost by one means or another, he'd told himself he wouldn't get close to anyone else. Sarah's mom. Sarah. Tess. Bill and Frank. Sam and Henry. He almost thought he had lost Tommy before Jackson, too. It was against his wishes that Ellie crawled her way into his heart, and then he almost lost her as well. He was beginning to think maybe it was him. He was cursed, doomed to have anyone he loved ripped away from him.

Which is why when you came to Jackson, he tried his best to ignore you. But you always greeted him, cheerful and sweet, like a little ball of sunshine that was somehow untarnished by the storm clouds of an apocalypse.

He was irritated to realize that he had made room in his heart for you. You caused an ache in his heart that yearned to be filled. A missing piece in his soul. A place for him to someday fit, tangled between sheets and loving words. It had been about a year since you moved to Jackson, and he still feared getting too close to you, yet he would try his hardest to woo you the way a gentleman should. Sweet nicknames, flirting, gentle touches. You never picked up on it. Whether or not you felt the same, he stupidly fell in love. Unsure if it was mutual, yet pretty sure it wasn't after all this time, he tried to ignore the dirty thoughts revolving around you when the late-night urges would hit him. Somehow it felt wrong.

But tonight, it was hard to avoid. Having you touch him. His face, his neck, his chest, his hips, his thighs. Kneeling eye level with his crotch. Slinking away, sticking your barely covered ass in the air, letting your wet panties be shown to him and only him. He couldn't get you out of his head as he stroked himself. First slowly, but then harder and faster, trying to reach his climax with the thought of him burying himself in that sweet spot underneath your wet underwear. How he longed to see you with his own eyes, begging for him.

He tried to be quiet, to keep himself hidden from you down the hall, but the noise of skin on skin grew slightly louder with each of his quiet moans and panting breaths that managed to slip from his lips. Imagining himself buried deep inside you, taking you from behind in the same position he saw you in earlier, imagining the tight grip around him and the slick noises he could only fantasize about. He could practically hear you moaning and sighing, the sound seeping from his subconscious to the living room. He pumped harder, swirling his thumb around the head, drooling with precum, as his climax grew closer. He could feel his strokes becoming less controlled and his balls pulling upward as he began to shoot load after load of white hot release up under his shirt onto his stomach. Stroking himself through it, he milked his last few ropes of cum out before laying back to catch his breath, slowly tucking himself back away in his pants.

Coming back to his senses, he realized the sounds of your moans and whimpers that he was imagining were still happening. Taken out of his fantasies when he finished, there was no reason for the sounds to still be in his head. Needing to grab a cloth from the linen closet down the hall anyway, he walked, nearing his bedroom door, and heard the unmistakable sound of you pleasuring yourself. Quietly, he padded down the hallway, closer to the door. He could tell you were trying to be quiet, but could still hear you, soft whimpers and pants, surrounded by wet schlick noises.

Fuck, he thought. He could feel himself already getting excited again, despite having just released a few minutes ago. He desperately wanted to join you in his bed, or at the least, stand by the door and listen to your sounds while pleasuring himself, but he wasn't going to be a creep, nor scare you to death. You were still his friend. Even if he did want to move the couch across the living room to hear you better.

_____

Meanwhile in Joel's room, you had tried to sleep. You really had. But tossing and turning, each roll causing your nose to be surrounded with his scent, you were thrown into a frenzy, like an animal in heat. Each smell of his cologne, shaving cream, deodorant, and natural body scent that you picked up from his bed sent a wave of arousal directly to your core. You wondered how many times he'd pleasured himself in this bed and how frequently. You wondered if he ever thought of you while doing it, imagining himself buried deep to the hilt inside of you, each drag of his cock more perfect than the last, much like you were imagining now.

You would be lying if you didn't say there were a lot of handsome men in Jackson. Granted, you had been without romance for a very long time, but still. Many of them were single, and some of them were very sweet and friendly. Yet for some strange reason, your heart had been drawn to Joel. The first moment you saw him, with his silvery curls and his grumpy face, his shining brown eyes and his patched beard, you were smitten. You were a bit disappointed that he seemed to be a massive grump, but despite what everyone said, he was always nice to you. Granted, you were always nice to him, so why should he be anything less, right?

He was always a total gentleman, calling you names like darlin’ and sweetheart, his southern drawl pulling you in like a lasso. His care for his unofficially-adopted daughter warmed your heart, and you could see he was a real family man from both their relationship, and the one he shared with his brother. It warmed your heart, especially when you befriended Tommy and Ellie, getting to hear them talk about Joel. Seeing the love they feel, even if they give him a hard time sometimes. You didn't see how people felt Joel was cruel or heartless, even with the stories you heard. Times were rough, and people did what they had to for survival. 

You were always too chicken to make a move, and you figured he wouldn't be interested anyway. Surely him calling you those names and being sweet with you was just his Southern gentlemanly nature, right? You were nice to him, he was nice to you. 

So tonight, when Jimmy, the local heartthrob in town, asked you on a date, you told him you'd think about it and let him know. Yeah, you claimed you weren't sure how you felt about relationships after all the world had become. Truth was, you wanted a last chance with Joel before throwing in the towel and settling for Jimmy.

Sure, Jimmy was handsome. Blonde hair, blue eyes, rugged, yet boyish. Several of the women in town had crushes on him, and he had had several of the women in town. You weren't clueless to the rumors about his playboy behavior. But it had been a while and well, you weren't getting any younger. It might be nice to have a partner, even if he did only want a short little fling. 

So throwing back a few drinks, you decided you needed the liquid courage to finally make a move at Joel. One last effort to get his attention. You still didn't want to say anything to him, lest it ruin your current friendship that had grown so strong, but you could certainly use your body to entice a little. Drinking just enough to be brave, yet not so drunk that you were completely out of it, you gave an impression you were much drunker than you were, and needed Joel to help you out. Jimmy had almost been the one to walk you home, to your disappointment, before Joel stepped in, seeming slightly irritated about Jimmy's offer.

Yet after practically waving your ass in his face, showing him your panties (which you were sure looked wet), being inches from his crotch at knee height, and hanging on him all the way home, to now sleeping in his house and his bed, you were quite sure he didn't feel the same. Obviously his gestures were pure gentlemanly charm if he didn't bite after tonight's show.

So you tried to sleep, still a little drunk, but getting drunker off his scent. You tried to ignore the ache between your legs but the thought of him in this bed, groaning as his hand pumped his member to completion, made you throb. Soaked and antsy, you finally gave in and stuck your hand under the waistband of your panties. You let your imagination run wild, picturing him taking you in this bed, bringing you to bliss more than once. You could practically hear him groaning and panting, the sound seeping from your subconscious to the bedroom.

Tomorrow you would likely tell Jimmy yes. But tonight, you would try your best to get Joel out of your system, one stroke of your fingers at a time. But as you finished, coming with a whisper of Joel's name under your breath, you could still hear the groans and pants from Joel. Climbing out of bed, you moved to the door, pressing your ear against it. You could just barely hear the sounds of him panting and groaning, intermittent with the fapping of skin on skin. Delightedly surprised, you listened harder, feeling your pussy drool at the thought. How desperately you wanted to go out into the living room and climb on top of him. But he might not want that… he probably just couldn't sleep. Probably nothing to do with the scene you put on earlier. So instead, you slinked back to his bed, opting for round two.

At some point, the two of you fell asleep, panting and writhing with the self-induced pleasure, and the sound of each other through the door.

_____

The next morning, you awoke, walking down the hall to see Joel in his pajama bottoms and no shirt, making coffee. Your eyes scanned his broad shoulders and back, naked and tan. Bringing you back to last night's events, you felt your breath catching in your chest. 

“M-morning” you stuttered out, nervously.

Joel jumped, having not heard you. He turned, greeting you with a good morning. A faint blush crept across his cheeks and he quickly turned his head to pour a cup of coffee, offering you some as well. Thanking him, the two of you sipped in silence, both stealing glances at the other and thinking of the night before. Both of you felt like you had a dirty little secret the other didn't know. 

“Thanks again for taking care of me last night,” you added. In more ways than one, you thought.

“Of course, darlin’. Couldn't have you walkin’ home all alone or getting sick in the middle of the night. You're always welcome here,” he smiled.

“Well, I guess I better head to my house now,” you sighed. “See you later at patrol?”

“Course. Take care, sugar.” He brushed his hand over your arm. That's new… you thought. But still, probably friendly, unfortunately.

____

Hours later, you show up to patrol, noticing Joel hasn't arrived yet. Still a few minutes early, you look at the map, thinking over the route. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and turned around to see Jimmy. 

“Hey, Jimmy,” you greeted, feeling slightly awkward. You assumed he probably wanted (and deserved) an answer. You rubbed your arm nervously, staring at the ground, wondering what to tell him. He was handsome, you thought, and you weren't getting anywhere with Joel. 

“Did you, uh” Jimmy scratched behind his ear, “give any more thought to that date?”

Geesh. Not a lot of thinking time here…

“I did,” you replied. “I think… My answer is yes. I'll go out with you.” You felt a pang of regret in your stomach, but you wanted a connection, and you just weren't getting that from Joel, despite what you wanted to think from last night.

Jimmy grinned. “Really?” He picked up your hand, holding it in his. “That's great. I know you have patrol today, but maybe Friday? I'll meet you at your house at 6?” 

“Sure,” you gave a small fake smile. “Sounds great.” He still held your hand, warm and soft and nothing like the rugged, large, callused hands of hard-working Joel. Although Joel has never held your hand, the times he's touched your arms, or held you up on your walk from the bar, he left a trail of goosebumps and butterflies in his wake, despite being warm to the touch.

Jimmy went to kiss your hand, just as Joel walked up. “What’s goin’ on here, huh?” He asked, seeming almost… angry, looking from Jimmy, to your connected hands, over to your face. “Joel,” Jimmy dropped your hand, giving Joel a curt nod.

“Jimmy..” Joel replied, teeth clenched. 

“I'll see you Friday,” Jimmy smiled at you, touching your shoulder before walking away.

“What did that little asshole want?” Joel growled.

“Geez Joel, chill out. What's your problem? I'm not allowed to talk to people?” You crossed your arms.

“I toldja last night. I don't trust that kid. Too busy sleepin’ around with the whole town. What's he talkin’ to you for?” Joel furrowed his brow, looking over at Jimmy across the room, now talking to some of the other patrolmen.

“Gosh Joel.. seriously what is wrong with you? First of all, he's hardly a kid. He's at least in his thirties. Second of all, everyone he's been with, I'm sure has been consensual, otherwise Tommy would have kicked him out of the town. And lastly, but probably more important. What do you mean “what is he talking to you for?” You mocked in a deep voice. “Like I'm the only option he has left? Like I'm not deserving of a man talking to me? Not that it’s any of your business, friend, but for your information, Jimmy is taking me on a date on Friday. So fuck off, Joel.” You started to stomp away angrily, grabbing your pack off the desk.

“The fuck he is,” Joel muttered under his breath, so quiet you didn't hear and grabbing his pack as well.

_____

Five hours. Five hours of riding in complete silence, checking out abandoned buildings in complete silence, and taking breaks in complete silence. Even your first patrol wasn't this quiet, and you couldn't help but feel like he was somehow angry at you.

As irritated as you were with him, not talking to him somehow felt worse. This wasn't like him. Is this the grumpy side everyone talks about? Is this Joel, the asshole you have yet to meet?

Feeling confused, your eyes started to cloud, slightly teary with anger and sadness, yet also a bit of dread at going out with Jimmy. You blinked your eyes, sorting through the abandoned drug store you and Joel were in.

Finding some condoms on a shelf, you threw them in your pack. “What're you doin’?” Joel asked. “Those can't be sold, didn't you pay attention to Tommy? They're rarely effective this old.”

“Yes I paid attention, Joel. I know they can't be sold. They're for me. I figured it's better than nothing,” you replied bitterly. “I have a date in a couple days, I want to be prepared,” you scowled. Joel’s jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything, instead turning to look the other direction of the aisle.

Crouched down to search the bottom shelf for other items, Joel was still turned away from you, keeping lookout on the other end of the aisle. 

You didn't even hear the stalker leap around the corner from the shadows and pounce on you. It opened its mouth, fungal strands spreading from its mouth towards your face. Pure fear pulsed through your veins.

“Joel!!!!!” You cried out, using all your strength to try and push the infected off of your body, but it was too strong. 

You screamed and kicked, struggling to break free, when Joel fired his shotgun, shooting the enemy in the head and immediately running over to you. Throwing the infected off of your body as if it was weightless, Joel scooped you into his arms. His lips moved but you heard nothing. Your ears rang, high pitched squeals from adrenaline, fear, shock, and the bang of the shotgun.

Joel pawed over your body, roughly inspecting you for bites and wounds in a frenzy. When he didn't find any, he held you in his arms again. “It's okay baby, it's okay. You're alright sweetheart. Come back to me, it's okay. You're okay.” Your hearing must have returned. He rocked you, tears welling from your eyes and his. “You're okay. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” He kissed your ear and the side of your head, still rocking you in a hug, sitting on the floor, inches from the now-dead infected. The two of you needed to get out of here, but neither of you could move yet.

Finally you spoke. “Why are you sorry Joel?” You asked with a sniffle. You wrapped your arm around his back, the other hand finding the back of his head, gripping his curls gently.

“I'm sorry for how I've been actin’ all day. I'm sorry I didn't see that stalker before he attacked. I'm sorry for being so possessive earlier. I'm sorry,” he held you tighter.

You pulled back to look into his eyes. “Joel, you couldn't have heard or seen that stalker. That's what they do best. You saved me and that's all that matters. As for earlier, you were being an asshole, and it did really hurt my feelings. All this time people have said you're such a jerk, and I didn't see it,” you pulled away from his grip, “but today I did.” You looked at your lap. “Don't I deserve to go on a date? Don't I deserve to have someone love me?” You picked at the hem of your pants, avoiding his eye contact.

“Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way. I just - you deserve something real, not a hookup like that guy wants. I know his type. He'll sleep with you and toss you aside. You deserve to be treated like a lady.”

You snorted. “Yeah, Joel. That's how things are nowadays, too. Gentleman just waiting to sweep me off my feet. Shit, you literally just saved me from near-death, something that happens all the time today, and yet you're saying I deserve love? To find romance? Yeah, right.”

Joel didn't say anything. He just looked into your eyes, lips pursed and moving to the side in thought. His eyes drifted to your lips and back up to your sight.

You continued. “I don't even like Jimmy,” you said quietly. “I like someone else, but I just got tired of waiting and wanted some kind of connection. Even if it's just a night in bed.” At the last part of your sentence, Joel grimaced, almost in pain. And then he thought.

“Wait,” he sat back a little, scanning your face. “Who do you like?” 

You gulped. Why not a little more adrenaline? “Well, it was you, until you started acting like an asshole. But I realized you probably didn't feel the same way a while ago. Especially after I practically threw myself at you last night.”

“Threw yourself at me last night? What are you talkin’ about? You were drunk,” Joel answered.

“I wasn't that drunk, Joel. My movements were pretty planned. The placement of my touches on your body. My ass angled up in your direction. I wanted you,” you added, pointedly.

Joel looked like he was solving a complicated math problem. “So you… last night when you… I heard you, in bed, pleasurin’ yourself. Were you… thinking about me?”

You looked up at him in shock and panic. “You heard me?” You asked in a frantic whisper.

“Yeah, I uh… I did. I got up to get a towel and heard your uh… sounds” he cleared his throat.

“I guess I should tell you then that I heard you too,” you said with a smirk.

Joel swallowed, hard. “Y-ya heard me?”

“Yep” you replied, popping your lips on the p sound.

Joel had nothing to lose at this point. “I was thinking about you,” he proclaimed. “Thinkin’ bout that wet spot on your panties when you flashed your ass in the air. Wishin’ I was buried inside you.” He ran his hand across your thigh.

Your breathing picked up. “I was thinking about you too. Wishing you'd bust through that door and take me in your bed, running my nails down your back as we came together…” you mimicked the motion with your fingers down his jacket-clad back.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes closing. You glanced down at the noticeable bulge in his jeans. “I like you too, I just never thought you felt the same. Y’never seemed to pick up on any of my sweet talkin’ or my names for ya.”

“I just figured you were being nice,” you replied, glancing back into his eyes.

“You should know by now, I'm only nice to you,” he growled. “I'm sorry I ruined that today,” he glanced at your mouth, licking his lips. “Was just jealous. Want you all for myself,” he stroked your thigh again.

You sighed at the feeling, pulling him by his collar to kiss him deeply. The kiss was frantic and rough, both of you trying to get as much of each other as possible, a year of build-up boiling at the surface. Teeth clashed and tongues danced and you pulled each other closer, grasping at clothes and skin. 

The two of you broke the kiss, needing a gasp of air. You started to take off your shirt when Joel stopped you. “Whoa, darlin'. I want you just as bad, but not here,” he gestured to the old building. “It's dangerous, not to mention gross in here. I wasn't kidding when I said you deserve romance,” he stood, pulling you to your feet. “We're about a 20 minute ride from base, let's head home. Make your fantasy of fuckin’ in my bed come true,” he winked, giving a smack to your ass. 

_____

The 20 minute ride felt never-ending as you both stole glances at each other, your panties still wet with arousal, and him still sporting the tent in his pants, which was hard to miss. 

Finally making it back to the stables, you both quickly undressed the horses and put gear away, about to head out of the barn when Jimmy and his partner rode up. “Hey, babe,” he called to you. It sounded wrong from his mouth. Joel tensed at your side.

Dismounting his horse, Jimmy strolled over to you. “Hey Jimmy, I was thinking. I don't think I want to go on that date after all. I'm sorry, I just don't feel the same way.”

“What?” Jimmy asked in disbelief.

“I know, I'm sorry if I hurt you. I- I like someone else. I just didn't think they felt the same way,” you replied sheepishly.

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“What?” You were in disbelief.

“Fuck you, bitch. One of the few women in this town who won't fuckin’ put out. I was even gonna take you on some shitty date before I got you into bed, and now you make a fool of me? Nah, I don't think so,” he stalked towards you angrily. 

You stepped back, worried what he might do, but Joel stepped in first, nailing a punch at Jimmy's nose. “Don't you dare talk to her like that,” Joel yelled.

Tommy came running in, hearing the commotion. After hearing what happened, it was decided that Jimmy wouldn't be welcome in this town any longer.

Satisfied, you grabbed Joel's hand. “Why don't I show you who I really belong to?” You looked up at him, biting your lip.

“Lead the way, baby.” He pushed you forward, smacking your ass.

The two of you stumbled into his house, kissing with little regard for objects. Luckily, Ellie was still at a friend's house. The door slammed closed and you kissed furiously, undressing as you walked. Finally you reached his bedroom and fell onto the bed, where he made all your fantasies of the night prior come true. The two of you enjoyed the taste of each other's mouths, kissing and licking, while he pounded into you, leaving you breathless and screaming his name as you both came.

“That was even better than I imagined,” you sighed, rolling over onto his chest.

“That's my girl,” he cooed, kissing your head and rubbing your back.

“Mine,” he whispered.

[shougojo]

Hi! Can i request a headcannon where they get jealous of your pet 🥹 ? Any pet and fandom is fine 🫶

DOMESTIC FIGHT

cw: blue lock x gn! reader, fluff, headcannon, jealousy, pets can be chosen / they focus on cats tho

a/n: thanks for requesting anon !! hopefully this is what u want , it’s kinda long -︵-

rin just shrugged when you told him you owned a pet. he saw it normal that his partner had a pet, what else could possibly be wrong? well, rin now despises your pet. whenever you let it out or call it over - that was when the action starts. the animal would start nuzzling you and take your attention away from him. and whenever rin tries pulling you closer to him, it would just hiss; like he was gonna harm you or something. and rin wasn’t dumb about it; every night, he would brainstorm on how to get rid of it - trying not to upset you in the process.

sae is similar to his younger brother, but instead - the pet despises him. sae simply ignore the creature with his sanity, he doesn’t give a damn about the pet; although he gets scolded by you, the animal can’t do anything about can it? he doesn’t feed, play, or even share you with the domestic animal — it gets on the pet’s nerves. and sae just ignores it. you almost walked into sae and your cat ‘wrestling�� each other once. he also sometimes grabs your pet and replaces it whenever it takes his spot — your lap.

isagi is probably the only one that gets along with your pet. it’s probably either he has second nature or the pet is just fond with him. you’ll sometimes find the two playing or napping together. you sometimes think that your cat might like isagi more than you. but isagi always says that your pet obviously likes you more; but how can you agree when your pet’s always following him when he goes home? even so, at least they get along… maybe they get along too well.

nagi. let’s say he doesn’t really give a shit about your pet. they already went off on a bad start the second they met. he pretty much despises the pet; like, how can he not when it’s hogging you all to itself. you’ll often catch nagi giving death glares at your pet whenever their in the same room. they’ll have starring contests once in while, and if you were being honest, ‘if looks could kill’ would be the best way to describe the two. and nagi isn’t the guy who would have dates out in the world, he’d obviously prefer to do house dates - but when it comes to your pet - he’s always up to go to his house or a public date. anywhere away from that ‘thing’.

reo honestly just reacted with a ‘cool’ when mentioning you had a pet. but it’s not very cool once he meets it. he would often tell you that your pet is literally the definition of satan. it wasn’t like your pet scratched the furniture, it was just that it took your attention away from him. sometimes, whenever you left to get something in another room - he would ‘gently’ grab the domestic animal by the throat and point his finger in its face, telling it threats to back away from you. but the animal was stubborn and ignored every word he punctuated. making him loathe the pet even more.

bachira is just like any other person. caring and loving for your pet, it’s like a lil family to him. but sometimes, if your pet is an introvert, things might get a little messy and the pet might be the one despising him. but it’s ok! if your pet is extrovert, they’d have a fantastic time. it’s like their best friends or even brothers. overall, bachira is amazing at pets ( just don’t get him a tortoise, it might bore him )

[matchingbatbites]

Wiggly 🧠🪱 Wednesday!

I was tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation to share a brainworm, and I literally went to bed thinking about this last night. Throwing it all under the cut because uh. Yeah.

Today I'm thinking about...

Eddie, who finds himself playing cumdump for one of the local frats.

He finds himself over at the house a couple times a week, more often than not bent over some kind of surface as pledge after pledge drills into him from behind. He never thought he would enjoy just being used like this, but there's something about having guys literally lining up to fuck him that feeds his ego, leaving him with a heady feeling that lasts for days.

It always amuses him just how straight some of these guys are, how they make him keep his long hair down, how most of them refuse to touch him, barely letting their hips even touch his ass. Like it lets them ignore the fact that they're balls deep in another man.

The only outlier of the bunch is Steve. Eddie has no idea what the guy looks like - only knows his name because of someone else complaining about him taking too long. But he knows the grip of Steve's hands on his waist, knows the sound of his voice when he says "Hey there, pretty boy," as he lines up and fills Eddie with his fat dick.

Eddie loves being fucked by Steve, loves that Steve seems to care more about Eddie's pleasure than his own. A lot of times he has to stop once Steve is done because he's just too overstimulated and fucked out to keep going. It makes him wonder what would happen if Steve were actually able to take his time with Eddie.

It all flips on its head one day when he's set up on a date by one of his friends. He goes to the bar at the agreed time, and meets the most gorgeous man he's ever seen in his life, though he's a bit thrown when he learns the guy's name is Steve, and his voice is too familiar to be coincidence.

Gonna actually tag a few people, no pressure! @runninriot @steddie-island @thefreakandthehair

[nicki0kaye]

🌘  twitter | patreon | instagram  🌒

Junior Guard Captain Garazeb and Underworld crime prince Sasha fall into each other's orbit and hard. This is the 'verse where they have complimentary force powers; Guard (Zeb, empath) and Watcher (Kallus, heightened senses). you can check out the sketch phases of this here. Zeb characterization and general Lasan HCs courtesy of @sidhebeingbrand

Not ten minutes after meeting, Sasha tries to use Zeb as his ticket off Coruscant, which creates something of a diplomatic incident.

The Kallus' aren't a very powerful underworld gang, but they don't want to lose Sasha and are more than willing to become a pain in the surface's ass to get him back. Zeb's superiors don't want any of that, but there's a hiccup; Zeb and Sasha are already 'bonded'. Their auras compliment one another, and have more or less interlocked in what little time they've known each other. Untangling them now would be a process. That, and Sasha has told them some concerning things about how his family treats him and his gift.

So the plan becomes; parlay with the Kallus Family down in the Underworld.

It goes better than expected, all things considered. Sasha's family wants him to stay and are willing to accept assistance from the Lasat, because they're under no illusions that their family's way of doing things is working. Sasha's magic has always been more than either his brother or grandmother could handle. If the Lasat are willing to spare a teacher, the Kallus' will put them up and treat them like family.

Which means Zeb is going to stay.

Sasha is furious. He wants to stay with Zeb, yeah, but he wanted to go with him to Lasan. Not ruin the guy's whole career by getting him stuck in the frozen ass-end of Coruscant's basement sectors.

There's one place Sasha goes when he's feeling trapped and overstimulated. At the bottom of level 1996--a level comprised entirely of the piping needed to keep the above levels running--is a giant empty space where the next level should be. Over a hundred stories of nothing between the pipes of '96 and the sewage pit of 1994. This is where Sasha goes to worship his god. The Lasat know him as the Bendu--the one who walks in the middle--but in the north-eastern sectors of the Underworld, they simply call it 'The Void'. It isn't the kind of god to lend its favor, but it is there all the same, and it will listen. Sasha comes to it often to vent his frustrations, to scream into the dark, and this time, Zeb follows.

The whole thing freaks Zeb out. He's a good, devout child of the Ashla, and this big yawning pit his bonded feels compelled to dangle over scares him shitless. He respects the Bendu, respects Sasha as a child of the Between, so he doesn't interfere. Zeb does, however, reel Sasha into the safety of his own arms the second his crazy little human is done.

That's when this conversation happens. Across their bond, in the privacy of their auras, Zeb promises the next time he sees the stars, Sasha will be there beside him. "I know why it calls to you now, the emptiness."

A shiver works its way through Sasha. "Why are you like this?" he asks, pressing into Zeb's space, forehead to forehead. "You just promise like it's nothing."

"To be your Guard is everything. I do not want another bondmate. Terrifying small human."

Sasha's laugh is a little wheezy and broken. He forces a grin as he asks "what if?" aloud, pretending it's a game, a new way to tease the overly serious Guard, and that there's no growing fear he may misstep and give Zeb reason to abandon him.

Zeb says he doesn't know, but then counters; "what if I steal you?"

The question is left unanswered--they aren't alone in the 1996 and need to get going--but it isn't forgotten. Nor Zeb's promise that one day, the two of them will hunt the stars.

[aka-indulgence]

Please do tell us more about the dealer. Perhaps how the two met or more about his personality? Love your writing btw and how you pulled me in to hyperfixate on him aswell.

I’ve been thinking of how they met for a while. At one point I’d imagine you’d play buckshot roulette… but I like the idea of you knowing each other before that point.

In my scenario, you work in the club he haunts. Maybe he owns the place but makes someone else run for him. All you know is that you don’t meet him when you get hired, but he’s a constant presence.

And people are scared of him enough that it’s almost like he isn’t even an… earthly entity.

“No you uh… don’t want to meet the boss. It doesn’t have a pretty face.”

You hear gunshots on the top floor. The first time you hear them you freak out, but everyone else in the club don’t seem to bother.

“It’s playing another round…”

You feel like someone who’s out of a secret, and when you ask, they only say two words.

“Buckshot roulette.”

From its name alone you get a good idea of what kind of game that is and feel a shudder. What kind of a man plays such a dangerous game every night…?

It isn’t a while until you meet the fabled…. person(?).

Sometimes a shadowy face looks down from the second floor. And you know it’s not the cigarette guy who always seems to hang up there.

Did you make eye contact? You can’t tell from all the way down here.

Then you meet him for the first time when he goes down for a drink. Turning around to see an awfully frightening face- you can’t help but scream. He doesn’t look human- you think!? With a grin full of knives, hollowed out sockets for eyes, and a shotgun strapped to his back, you’d think you were staring down the face of death (which, for certain people, it is).

And just to add to that, he has a hole staining blood down his messy shirt.

Your scream makes him pause- blink for a few seconds. Then he laughs- loudly, enough that it unnerves everyone else in the club. No one stares too long, no one wants to anger the guy(?) with a shotgun.

“You must be the new gal, aren’t you?”

That’s when you realize… this is The Boss.

“Be a lamb and grab me some beers.”

“Do you-? Are you… need… medical…”

You unknowingly endear yourself to the Dealer quickly, from how concerned you seemed, and rolling with the punches. Most people who’ve never seen him turn tail and leave, and here you were, doing your best to fulfill his request.

It makes him actually visit the club more often just to see you, sometimes encountering you on the way home and walking you to the nearest bus stop… and every time, he quickly disappears before anyone else sees him. He’s an enigma. You don’t know why he seems to linger around you, but if you’re making the boss happy, you see it as a win.

As for him, he’s quickly charmed by you, and enjoys your company. Actually gets disappointed when he finishes a game and finds you’d gotten home already. He wants you to stay around a long while. Hopefully, you’ll never have to play a round of buckshot roulette with him…

[trigun-manga-overhaul]

I've always been meaning to ask- It's generally known that Wolfwood has a Kansai dialect in the original Japanese, which you've chosen to localize in English, but what I'm curious about is: does Livio have any sort of dialect or accent in Japanese as well? It seems the way he speaks in your translation has a some of the same quirks as Wolfwood, so that really got me curious.

Hey there and thanks for the ask!

Yes, it is 100% clear in the Japanese text that Wolfwood speaks with a Kansai accent. I remember reading in an interview long ago that Nightow imagined this accent to be southern or very cowboy in English, but I do not have it on hand so I can't back it up. Either way, we decided to go with the southern twang for Wolfwood, to ensure that his distinct speech prevails.

Now, Livio is a very interesting one with his language, as it goes through a metamorphosis during the time he has in the manga. It changes a lot, and that goes hand in hand with his character arc.

The first very obvious change that happens to Livio's speech, is his move from very polite, controlled and submissive speech as we meet him. Obviously this reflects his position as a pawn to the Eye of Michael. The key factors in this are the lack of dialect and his usage of "私, Watashi" to refer to himself.

This changes as he becomes Razlo.

Razlo's speech is pretty distinct. No, he does not have a thick Kansai dialect like Wolfwood, but he does pronounce words in certain ways. His speech is the kind that Japanese people would describe as vulgar; low class, gang-like. Razlo is a punk in every sense of the word when it comes to how he talks, both in the pronouns used towards other character, always the most hostile ones you can pick, and always speaks in a disrespectful manner towards anyone who isn't Chapel. This is also where we see "俺, Ore" used towards himself, a pronoun considered rude, or very masculine, if not used casually with your close friends.

When Livio is finally freed from Chapel and the Eye of Michael, he transforms more into his true self. He begins to use "俺, Ore" towards himself, his speech becomes more casual, occasionally playful, but also with some force. This is where it gets interesting.

Livio's speech pattern is reminiscent of the Japanese masculine stereotype of the Kyushu Danji, the macho man, or as would be perceived in the West, a core picture of toxic masculinity. However, since this is Nightow we're talking about, the idea is turned on its head.

Livio, despite being portrayed as a big, muscly, tough guy in almost every way he can be, is instead called Crybaby Livio. His emotions are on the outside, he's gentle, loving, and polite towards women. He even tries to imitate Meryl's very proper speech when he meets her, wanting to be respectful. He is everything that a Kyushu Danji isn't, yet speaks a lot like such a person when it comes to the patterns of his speech.

On the topic of this trope; Wolfwood tries his hardest to be a person like that, a Kyushu Danji, and it causes him mostly suffering. Wolfwood is indeed a victim of toxic masculinity himself, which makes it very interesting how this behavior is portrayed in the series. One suffers because of it, another turns the whole trope on its head and gives us the opposite.

Just more of those tiny Nightow things that I personally very much appreciate, especially for its time.

The short answer:

Livio does not exactly have the same written dialect in the manga like Wolfwood, however his speech is supposed to be crude, and "low class", something the Japanese often connect with the Kansai dialect. So, we decided on the team to give Livio a similar dialect to Wolfwood.

[nocandnc]

I saw some discussion floating around on what Momo and Okarun might name their child if they had one, which got me thinking about it as well. This inevitably led me down a deep rabbit hole of Japanese wordplay and research that really needed its own post, so here goes...

Naming hypothetical Dandadan kids!!

Fandadan kids...?

I'll be covering Momo x Okarun, Aira x Jiji and Kinta x Vamola below the cut for those who're interested - it's very long and very silly.

Momo x Okarun

If it were up to me, I'd name their child Tou. Why?

Well. You. See! Okarun's real name is Ken, written as 健 - meaning 'health' or 'strength'. However, 'ken' is also how you pronounce the word for 'sword' - written as 剣. This refers broadly to swords of many varieties. A more specific word would be 'katana', written as 刀, which refers to Japanese-style blades in particular. Another way of pronouncing 刀 is 'tou'.

Momo's name means 'peach' and is written as 桃. An alternate way of pronouncing 桃 is also 'tou'. Furthermore, the word 'momo' is also one way to read 百, the kanji for the number 100... as in the number of kilometers an hour a certain old lady can run.

So Tou feels like a wonderful name to me, as it loops all in and around Momo and Ken's names and even Turbo Granny to boot. It's a masculine name, but I feel like they'd still go with Tou even for a girl. A very tough girl!!

Aira x Jiji

Whether these two end up becoming a proper pairing in-series remains to be seen, but I've become totally hooked on them recently ^^;; and they're both so good with kids, I can imagine them having two or three... but I think the first one should be Buyuu.

Aira's name is written as 愛羅, which is a nod to the phrase 愛羅武勇 - read as 'I love you', or アイラブユー (ai ra bu yuu) - said as if one were speaking in English, rather than the Japanese line 'aishiteru' for example. A very fun line that showcases Aira's passionate side!

'Buyuu' would make for a very nice boy name to match his mother, written of course as 武勇 to follow Aira's 愛羅. Jiji is a fun and sentimental guy, so I think he'd be fully on board with this kind of wordplay!

武勇 can also be read on its own to mean 'bravery', 'military prowess' or 'valour'. Jiji's real name is Jin, written as 仁 and means 'benevolence', 'compassion', 'charity' etc. - while not directly related, 'jin' and 'buyuu' both point towards virtuous qualities that often go hand-in-hand. Buyuu refers to warrior-like traits especially, which also serves as a nod to Jiji's power both with and without the Evil Eye.

I can certainly think up good names for more kids too... but let's move on for now >///<

Kinta x Vamola

This ship might be a bit polarizing, but I honestly think they'd be so sweet together once they have time to grow! Another reading for Vamola is Bamora, written either way as バモラ - neither reading is right or wrong from a technical standpoint, but I prefer Vamola as it sounds more alien to my ears.

It also matches with Vega, which is the name I'd choose for her and Kinta's daughter!

Vega is the brightest star in the Lyra constellation, and is known in Japan as 織姫 or 'Orihime' - as in Orihime from the popular folktale of Tanabata. The story is about two lovers (Orihime and Hikoboshi) who are separated by the Milky Way and can only meet on the 7th day or the 7th month. A lonely maiden from the stars... almost like a certain alien girl!

But the connections don't stop there. Sakata Kinta (坂田金太) also happens to be a folktale reference! 'Kintarou' (金太郎) is the name of a very famous figure in Japanese myth, particularly known for slaying the fearsome oni overlord Shuten-douji. He also may or may not have served Minamoto no Yoshitsune under the name of Sakata Kintoki (坂田 金時). Folktale father, folktale daughter.

Kinta is such a bombastic guy, Vega just might be on the normal side of his naming preferences... but I think Vamola would find it all very sweet and moving. That said, Vega herself might choose to go by Orihime amongst her peers to avoid the questions and weird looks >.>

(And of course, if they had a son it'd be Altair instead!)

So... yeah! Those are my thoughts and ideas on the matter ^^;;;

I love researching Japanese terminology etc. so this was really just an excuse to ramble about all that... Hope some folks enjoy!

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

🆃🅷🅴 🆆🅸⨢.🅲🅷🅸🅽🅶 🅷△🆄🆁.

>>> the grim adventures of jon n' jack. feat batman n' spiderman. <<<

...

it was only a matter of time, before i would have made another crossover with those two. i can't deny, that they are very 1:1 for me, when it comes to comics supervillains. so why not to mix one awesome n' beloved thing with another? esp since funny enough, they do have quite a few similar plot-points. well, the halloween themed costume aside. i mean it goes as far as jack once having the bat-themed boyfriend pal, which reminds me of someone else, i know.

anyho'...

i've tried to make my notes more or less readable here, but they still might be a bit scattered. i attempted to keep them as short as possible, but i just cannot talk 'small'.

1. the first art is low-key based on underdeveloped AU, that i have about the early comic scarecrow n' modern jack meeting n' hitting it off serial killiar style. considering, that both of them possess killing methods, which have a noticable tradmark to it, i imagine that they will leave one hell of a mess behind, while traveling across the country. in that timeline, batman is dead. n' jack's shitty foster dad was killed off earlier on. neither of them knows what to do with themselves, since the people who they had *twisted* emotional conection with are gone. without any direction, they meet in the middle, n' decide that they can as well team-up n' try to make being a villain fun again. jon might experiment on their victims *or torture them if its his ex bullies* n' then give them to jack, who would scoop their brains out and put candle inside their skull. n' uh yeah, he literally did it in the comic. i was honestly surpised that marvel come up with smth that creepy. it really sounds more alined with dc, if anything. but either way, here they are. two *grieving* psychos going downtown. they will make one another so much worse, i imagine. n' they will totally kill that npc dude btw.

2. dark magic n' the drip. or jon n' jack at their corniest. like, jonathan looks like he watched too much the nightmare before christmas n' jack dress up like count dracula for no reason. it's so random-ish n' cheesy. but with this being said, i love both of those designs, n' think, that they really suit the vibe of comic issues in which they were featured. jack always came off as a he-witch to me, but it was nice to see it being played on in a different way. n' then, crane really rocks his own outfit as well. i totally need to draw him in it more often, haha. they dress up for a halloween party for real this time. n' well, i added batman n' spiderman into the mix here, bc i kinda wish that they got to fight / interact with those versions of jon n' jack. it would have been fun for a few reasons. also this can be technically counted as shipping art, but can be viewed as your typical gloating bad guy n' helpless hero thing too. n' to clear any possible questions, i only create stuff with adult peter parker. like cartoon era/late early comics, 20 smth one. i love my spiderman being of age, where he can legally mingle with his villains, not be detained at school lol.

3. the classic four from the timeline, when the comic plots were a bit more ligthearted. aka during the times, when the deadly mercenary n' crazy scientist were robbing banks, instead of harming *torturing* people. i love dark stuff, but there is charm to how 'simple' the scarecrow's and jack's goals once were. n' i love how the scarecrow used to do the lil, dorky dances. it really suits him. n' since at least 2 or maybe, most of jack o' lanterns are southernish in their roots like jon, i had an idea of them having a country dance *in the middle of graveyard* kinda just makes sense to me, haha. batman and spiderman merely happen to find them like that. n' well, it's kinda awkward. esp bc they technically don't do anything bad. i also imagine spiderman being like 'oh, so you have one of those too'. which is mostly a ref to how both the scarecrow n' jack were called 'the reject from land of oz' by other characters. they can rejoice here.

4. the develish & undead duo!! my friend once told me to try n' watch older superhero cartoons, and at first i was like 'welp, they prob be hella boring'. but then i caved in, n' watched a couple of superfriends episodes. as result, i fell in love with their scarecrow's desingh! it was unexpected tbh. usually, i prefer jon's older, classic scarecrow look. so no straw hair, less features exposed, just a hat n' a sack on his head, but their version of him actually did it for me. i find their crane both creepy n' cute. n' i also read on wiki, that he might be undead. so that bit interested me as well. non-human jonathan crane, what a concept! him returning from the grave just to be a menace to batman. n' to accompany him, there is an undead jack o' lantern from the ghost rider comic. his corpse literally got possessed by satan. anyways, both of them raised army of zombies. both of them undead n' prob won't ever get out of their spooky suits, since i don't think that they can. n' funny enough, jack's hometown was called sleepy hollows, if i remember correctly. so they can haunt people there, make it into a truly cursed land.

5. the last one was kinda spontaneous on my part. the other day, i was looking at what kind of action figures the scarecrow n' jack have. saw one, where jon was looking kinda strange, all black n' yellow. which is how i find out that he *apparently* got yellow lantern powers in newer comics, even if it was like for 10 seconds or smth. i didn't read the issue itself, but i found the idea kinda fun, n' his design was decent enough for me to get interested n' wonder what i can do with it. then, a bit later, i saw that jack had a venom-funko figure. i don't think, that he was ever canonically venomized in any of the actual comic issues, but once again, the mere idea of it happening was enough for me to consider doing smth with it. i mean, a venom-like tongue, but its made out of fire? dang. that's kinda cool. so yeah. the yellow lantern scarecrow n' symbiote jack o' lantern being the double trouble. if they weren't enough of a mean goblin-man before, now they surely will be.

[pemprika]

hnk ch. 100 thoughts (spoilers)

Making a full-on separate post because I thought there was a lot to draw from in this recent chapter... I needed to document it, so here is my veryy long thought bubble on hnk 100:

The chapter felt like a depiction of Phos in transition to accepting themself and adapting to a new phase of peace that they hadn’t experienced before. While young Phos had a carefree life, they were perpetually stuck feeling useless, never satisfied with the way they lived, and gradually lost all their friends, selfhood, and purpose.

It’s a little difficult to emotionally match the pacing of the story considering how often the series goes on hiatus now, but note that Phos had only recently come to terms with their own flaws and the reasons why everything ended up the way it did. They had a wish to be happy, and meeting these lifeforms allowed them to realize the meaning of their existence and be more content with it.

That poetic verse was introspective and contemplative. Rather than placing worth based on certain levels, like the gems’ hardness levels or Lunarians’ caste system, these rudimentary rocks perceive that all life is made equal. For thousands of years, gems tied their own value to a designated role, and if they couldn’t fulfill it, they devalued their existence. We saw a lot of perspectives throughout Phos’ journey, including how Rutile “failed” as a doctor for being unable to fix Padapradscha on their own, or how Dia “failed'' to live up as a diamond with refined fighting skills compared to their rivaled counterpart. Again, these are just flawed traits passed down from their human predecessors and the curse of immortality.

The chapter ending conveyed a hopeful conception that all things, primitive or refined, come from the same place (nature). I struggled to connect the details mentioned in ch 97 before, but it gave us sooo much foreshadowing to this new world. Dr. Ayumu said that, “the inorganic things that we had been using for ourselves will soon have a world of their own'', alluding that these little guys that Phos met are the new world.

 Interesting how Dr. Ayumu wanted Adamant to “build the bridge” and Phos to “burn the bridge” in order to create this “beautiful, rational world” to be a more freeing and less destructive place, and refresh the Earth to avoid relying on human values and qualities to stay self-fulfilled.

I was talking with @/mlkinis who brought up an interesting theory of using rocks in this new arc to symbolize the reversion of materialism. The rocks, elements derived from basic nature, have vastly different virtues compared to the gems, a class of refined minerals that developed a habitual routine of upkeep socially and culturally. While gems are also made from the Earth, they are perceived as high-value and are often polished to be artificially beautiful. 

One Buddhist principle reflects on detaching oneself to worldly possessions and desires, such as wealth, in order to attain inner peace, and it seems that having these primitive rocks is a representation of Phos “letting go” of the gem society, which may be another way of showcasing that the world is returning back to life as the way it once was, and that Phos is on a path to attaining ultimate happiness. I’m wondering if Dr. Ayumu’s line, “When you cross that bridge, burn it” refers to Phos leaving their suffering behind as they’re going forth to being happy in this new world that is coming to be...

Anyway, upon reading the passage, along with meeting the sentient rocks and hearing its rock friend sing the verse, I felt like Phos reconciled with their own self and existence, and melted from feeling at peace 🥺😭!! Thank you, Ichikawa as always… This was a very cool and comforting chapter for me.

[gabessquishytum]

Hob is a former escort, now a permanent ornament to some rich guy (you know what, let’s say burgess). Orphaned at an early age, hob has never known another way of life, other than scraping by using what he can. And often that’s been his body.

At least with burgess he knows where his meals are coming from and he knows what to expect and how to please him. he knows burgess isn’t going to share him around or hurt him. But he’s very jaded about love.

Enter poet dream. Dream is an aspiring writer who grew up pretty sheltered. This is a dream who’s never been heart broken, or lost a son, who believes in true love and the moment he sees hob, he feels it.

Maybe burgess is trying to court Dream’s sister, death. Death isn’t into it but it does get them invited to a party at burgess’ estate. and that’s where Dream first meets hob.

Hob is getting towed around by burgess, wearing clothes picked for him, laughing at all the right times, while being very clearly bored. Enamored with his beautiful brown eyes, Dream follows him around the party, heart pounding in his ears. And when burgess is distracted, Dream takes his chance. He introduces himself to hob and in the same breath tells him that he’s never seen anyone look so lovely or so lonely.

Hob just laughs, charmed despite himself. But they talk, secluded on a balcony all night. Hob finds himself opening up about his life, about how he is tired of being used by the highest bidder, about how he always wanted more for himself but has stopped believing it’s possible. And dream recites his poems for him and tells hob about how he’s always dreamed of meeting someone he could talk to, just like this. They both marvel at how different their lives have been, despite being about the same age. Finally, they kiss under the moonlight. Dream begs hob to leave burgess and run away with him. But hob hesitates. Dream is a penniless artist. And burgess might be old but he’s a dangerous man. Hob knows he wouldn’t just let hob go without consequences.

But does he dare? For the first time in a long time, hob is starting to hope again.

Escort Hob and soft poet Dream... oh they're a match made in heaven. I love them.

Hob wants to believe that he can have more than this life. He's tired physically, and tired of being disrespected too. It's all very well knowing that he's got food and a roof over his head, but he really doesn't feel safe. Maybe starving in a shitty flat with Dream would be the better alternative, as at least he'd feel loved. Dream keeps sending him letters with these amazing poems in them and every time, Hob feels a bit of his broken heart coming back together.

He asks politely for Burgess to accept his "resignation", but that goes about as well as you might expect. Burgess isn't prepared to let an asset like Hob get away.

The thing is, Hob grew up on the streets. He's dangerous too, even if he pretends not to be. And an old man is still an old man. Sock him in the jaw once and he'll keel right over. Hob empties the safe in the office and gets the hell out of there.

He shows up at Dream’s flat with bruised knuckles, a bag of cash, and a willingness to make it work. They really don't have time, since Hob is pretty sure he's not going to just get away with stealing from Burgess. But Dream pins Hob to the door with soft, adoring hands and kisses him until theyre both lightheaded. That night, Dream just holds him. Doesn't ask for anything more. He seems entirely happy just to have Hob in his arms.

And really Hob is still far from being safe. His future is totally uncertain. But there's Dream, and poetry, and a bag of Burgess's dirty cash. Its a start towards a better life. That's for sure.

[reallymyanchor]

Alexander

Disclaimer: this is a gainer story, not Mpreg. Let me know if you’d like more!

Nervously, I stepped into the living room. It was a warm enough temperature, but I jittered with a bit of anxious energy.

“Pause there a moment and I’ll get a few pictures before you sit down” Kyle said, the opposite to my nervous jitters, he was calm, making it sound like we had all the time in the world. I readjusted my jock strap, I’ve never worn one before, so it felt unusually to feel quite so held and exposed at the same time.

“Give me a smile” he said, holding up his phone. “Nice, now turn side on.”

There was a shutter noise, “You look great in this light man, check this out!”

He held out his phone: he was right, the shadows made my muscles looked even more defined, and my blonde hair caught the textures of the light. Kyle motioned to the couch, on the table beside it was a cup, and a large jug full of a thick shake.

“This is the main thing for you tonight man, it’s a shake that I’ve been developing - its got all the good stuff for a growing boy.”

I sat down, and he poured me a glass. I took my first sip. I think I was expecting it to feel like some kind of huge moment, or that he’d make a big deal of it, but nothing like that happened. It tasted slightly sweet, and was more like a vanilla thick shake than anything else.

“Yum, that’s good.” I said, sitting back in the couch, my jitters lessening. He sat in an armchair beside me.

“Go on, down that one dude, show it you mean business.” Kyle said. I smiled at him. I know it’s kinda the reason I’m here, and that he’s paying me $1000 for the night, but it’s always makes me smile when he goes all gainer chat. I tipped back the glass, and gulped down the mix. He refilled my glass.

“So Alex -“ he said

“oh, I prefer Alexander,” I said. It’s always good to nip that one in the bud fast.

“Sorry - Alexander, it’s so good to meet you in person. I saw a few of your bulk and bloating photos, and I knew I wanted to meet you.”

“Yeah, thanks for all the shopping money, man.” I said, taking a sip of the drink. It was kind of moreish, bizarrely drinking it didn’t make me feel any less thirsty. I took time to drink him in properly too: he was 25-30, clearly a fit guy, not bad looking overall. I’m 21, so even if he fucks me it’s not that much of an age gap.

“So, what got you thinking about doing this?” I asked him, finishing the second glass. He poured me another.

“Well, in the daytime I’m a personal trainer, and I just love seeing people transform their bodies. I spend so much time helping people to slim down, or cut this weight, I just find it really fucking hot to do the opposite. You’re pretty athletic: how often are you in the gym?”

“Every day, I’m in there at least once” I said. “I live with a few boys who are into body building, so they’re good at keeping me honest.”

“Where do they think you are tonight?” Kyle asked, watching as I finished another glass.

I was definitely feeling a bit full, but nothing compared to some of the bulking meals I’ve had. My cock was starting to go hard. I can’t explain how I’m turned on by the situation.

“I’ve told them that I’m at a family party for the night, out of town. My parents think that I’m out camping with the boys. Don’t worry, I’ve told everyone I’ll be out of cell range.” I said.

I paused in my drinking. A sense of fullness coming over me.

“Keep breathing,” he said, “take another sip”. I did. “What lead you to here?”

“Money” I responded, “ I’m a student, I bulk anyway, might as well earn some cash.”

Kyle smiled, “Speaking of work: I’ve got four more of these jugs to get in you. You ever been on a funnel before?”

————————

I lay back on the couch, a pipe in my mouth, which was strapped to my face. I gulped down the liquid at a steady pace, while Kyle poured it in above. I couldn’t speak, only groan and move slightly.

As I settled into a rhythm of gulps, Kyle kept giving words of encouragement: “Keep it up dude”, “You got this Alex”, “keep going with those deep breaths” I couldn’t even interrupt as he shortened my name.

My eyes were fixed on the ceiling, my hands cuffed behind my back “just in case”. I’m not sure what the case might be, but they’re definitely cuffed.

It was after the second jug that I noticed Kyle’s comments changing.

“Did you know that 25 percent of men in our country are obese? You’re going to be joining that number soon. Your thighs are gonna rub together when you run, and it’ll start to get so uncomfortable that you’ll stop running altogether. You’ll probably tell yourself that it’s mostly muscle, you’ll try to do resistance weights, but you’ll start to get sick of the gym, watching all the other boys your age getting fitter while you just get fatter and fatter. You’re gonna be such a good pig, such a happy little porker.”

I felt him pull out my jockstrap, my hard cock flipped out. I felt my cheeks turn red with embarrassment as he emptied the third jug into the funnel. I was feeling pretty full now. I tried to focus on my breathing

“You sure you’re just here for the money?” He said, giving my cock a few strokes before putting the jock back in place.

It was halfway through the fourth and final jug when I hit a wall. I couldn’t swallow anymore, and yet he just tipped the rest of the shake into the funnel. I moaned, attempting to indicate I couldn’t do it. He held the tube up.

“You are going to finish this, Pig.” He said, and then I felt his hand on my abdomen, moving in slow, soothing circles. I groaned, his touch just made me feel tighter.

“Keep breathing” he said. I breathed through my nose, and closed my eyes, focussing on his touch, and breathing. I gulped. It was slow, impossibly slow, but under his hand, I kept swallowing, delirious.

I opened my eyes to him removing the funnel straps from my face and uncuffing me, “Well done Pig, you managed all of them. Stand up for a bit, we’re going to move to the bath.”

He left the room, and I swung my legs around till I was sitting on the couch. I put a hand to my distended belly. It was grossly bulging with liquid, fuck this was hot. My dick was throbbing. I stood, and felt the full weight of my gravid body. My abs were stretched tight, a thin wall of muscle holding back the slurry inside my belly. I took a small step, gingerly following Kyle towards the bathroom.

———————————

Kyle sat on the edge of the bath, watching me as I wondered at the bulging gut he’d given me. My cock was rock hard under the water, but I was focussed on the pleasure and sensitivity coming from my belly, which only just stayed under the surface of the water

“The warm water relaxes your skin, makes things a bit more malleable.” He said.

“You’re not going to make me drink another, are you?” I asked.

“Nah, there’s just one more thing, fatty” he held up a glass. “I want you do drink this glass of water, and then relax as it reacts with the shake.”

He handed me the glass and, eager to get it over with, I downed it quickly, and handed the glass back to him.

“I hope you haven’t organised to go to the gym tomorrow” he said.

“what do you mean b-“ i was interrupted by a sudden movement in my gut. I cried out as a wave of pressure burst through me.

“Keep breathing, your body will filter it out soon” he said. I moaned loudly, I felt like my belly was going to rip open.

“Fuuuuuuuck!” I shouted as my already tight body expanded in sudden fits and waves, the reaction between the water and the shake pushing me bigger and bigger. I threw back my head- the pain was so intense, so deep in me. I blacked out, and felt my cock spurting a load.

When I came to, I was still in the bath, my head back. I could feel pressure on either side of my belly, I moaned, afraid to look at myself. I looked down. The pressure on the sides of my belly was the sides of the bath. I was so huge that I was effectively wedged in there. There were stretch marks on me where the belly had expanded so rapidly. I looked to Kyle, almost desperately.

“Awh, don’t worry Piggy.” He said, “Even though you look super hot like this, it’s totally not my style. By the morning, your body will have broken down the enzymes and hormones in the shake. You won’t have your big belly, you’ll be back to muscular old you.”

“Thank fuck” I said, relaxing a bit.

“But your body will be a bit different. You’ll still have these cute stretch marks” he said, gently tracing them with his finger. “And a few other things: you’ll find that your metabolism has dropped right down, and your brain will have a new level of what “full” means. Oh, and your body will want to store fat it your belly, tits and ass. In other words, you’ll be looking like this again permanently, in no time.”

Kyle grinned.

“What?” I asked, “What’s so fucking funny - you’ve ruined my fucking life you asshole”

He said “You can’t see it over your fat piggy belly, but your dick is rock hard again.”

He gave my belly a slap, and I felt my body jiggle, and my piggy cock spurted cum into the water.

He took a photo of me.

—————————————

I left Kyle’s house early the next morning. My body was back to its normal toned form, exactly the same as I had arrived, except for three blue stretch marks. I was so fucking hungry on the way home. Kyle is going to send through $700 a week for food, until our next session, when he’ll lift his payments again. He does want at least one full body photo a day.

As my work week started, I kept living as normal. None of my friends asked about my time away, and my Mum asked about camping. The boys in my house are in a bulking phase, and I’ve been joining them for every meal and gym session. Kyle’s word held true though: while their metabolisms were able to keep up with the influx of protein, my body eagerly stored it as fat.

Kyle was wrong about something though: I didn’t stop my cardio and running because of my thighs rubbing together. It was the fatty puffy pecs that grew on me, they bounced uncomfortably with each step or jump.

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 32**

We are slowly moving towards rock bottom with poor Frankie as he tries to get a handle on his addiction and his own demons.

I'm about to update the warnings for the next chapter. If there's something you're very sure you don't want to read about, please heed them. And if you don't want spoilers, please send me a DM and I'll tell you if you need to worry or not. I am moving towards something very dark and I know it might not be everyone's cup of tea and that's absolutely fine!

Series Master List

Chapter 33- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 10.9k

Another week passes, and you think maybe Frankie does better although his nightmares are still ever present, he gets moody sometimes and he’s always too tired, but slowly you think, maybe, you see an improvement. At least he stays away from Joel, you know that. He comes with you to the radio office in the morning or goes straight to someone who needs help fixing something, sometimes he goes scavenging for spare parts, or trades for them at the market, but never outside the QZ. When he’s done he comes by the radio, or you meet him and the guys at the bar. Often Tommy joins you, sometimes even Joel. Pope tells you he’s asked Joel if Frankie has tried trading for drugs again and Joel says he hasn’t seen Frankie at all.  

It’s been four weeks since Frankie came clean to you all, and the warm spring air seems light to you, even in the QZ. The ever entrepreneurial manager of the bar, Liz, has somehow managed to turn the grimy backyard into a ‘beer garden’ of sorts and now you’re all out there, sprawled in an assortment of patio furniture around a white plastic picnic table. 

Will keeps glancing at the door, Diana hasn’t turned up yet and even though she’s not late, you know Will is on edge until she gets here, just like you are before Frankie turns up. 

There’s been an increase in Firefly activity and FEDRA is on high alert, meaning random stops and checks in the street were now commonplace. The group you’d first only heard about through the scattering of graffiti throughout the QZ, had started making noise. Suddenly they’d recruited more people, were spreading their demands for a more just rule of the QZ, and almost every alley wall had their ‘slogan’ hastily spray painted across it; 'If you're lost in the dark, look for the light’. 

More than once you’d been approached by them, random women mostly, striking up conversations about FEDRA’s unjust methods and harsh control of the QZ. You knew the guys had also been approached, their reputation as men who knew how to handle themselves and any gun placed in their hands, made them prime targets for Firefly recruiters. So far all attempts had been shut down, getting involved in rebellions was something they’d done back in Delta Force and they were done with that. 

Will’s eyes flick to the door leading out to the backyard again as it swings open, but this time it’s Frankie. He’d gone inside for a round of drinks and he stumbles across the threshold, nearly spilling the tray of glasses he’s holding. 

“Jeez, Fish,” Benny laughs, “How many drinks did you have before I got here?” 

“Only one,” Frankie grumbles, carefully watching his steps as he crosses the yard and sets down the tray on the table. 

“The old man can’t take his alcohol anymore,” Tommy jokes, the two youngest men of the group chuckling together as Frankie rolls his eyes and hands you one of the glasses before sitting down next to you, his hand drifting to your thigh almost by its own accord. 

“You feeling ok?” you ask him in a low voice as Ben and Tommy continue celebrating being the youngest, and he nods, taking a sip of his drink before he gives you a quick smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good, just tired, didn’t sleep great last night again,” he answers and you put your hand on top of his, braiding your fingers between his. 

“It’ll get better, Frankie,” you soothe him, “you’re doing great.” 

Frankie looks at the whiskey swirling around his glass and gives you a weak smile before he takes another sip and looks over at Pope who’s asked Will something. You keep glancing at Frankie when he’s not looking. You know something isn’t right, but you can’t push it, not yet. He’s too tired, too sluggish even though he seems to be doing better. Pope had said it might just be the withdrawal symptoms, and it’s been only two weeks. But you feel blind, you can’t do anything but trust him, if he’s still using, you won’t know until it’s too late. So you scan his face, watch his moves, hoping and praying he’s being honest with you all and that he’s just fighting withdrawal symptoms. 

You lean back, taking a sip of your own drink, when from the street a loud explosion suddenly rocks through the air, making you all rush to your feet and turn towards the entrance to the bar. Shouts can be heard from inside and the sound of breaking glass. 

“Come on,” Pope says, “we need to get out of here!” He runs to the door, Frankie’s hold on your hand tightens and you follow him and next to you, you hear Will curse loudly. 

“Fuck! Diana is on her way here, I’ve got to find her!” He wrenches the door open, everyone inside is on their feet, facing the front door and someone is carefully looking outside. Just as Will crosses the room, heading for it, the door swings open and Diana runs inside, covered in dust, coughing. He’s on her in a split second, carefully cupping her cheeks. 

“Honey, please tell me you’re ok! What happened?” 

Diana coughs again and nods, “I’m ok, I think, the explosion was pretty far down the street, I just got pushed by the blast.”

Will is running his fingers over her head, scanning her body for any injuries, before he pulls her into a hug.

“Thank fucking god,” you hear him mumble. 

“We should get out of here,” Pope says, the bar is emptying now. The other patrons are filtering out through the door, looking down the street before hurrying off. When you’re all out on the street you can hear the rumble of FEDRA trucks approaching and the blaring of their alarms. 

“You guys should come over to our place, it's the closest, gonna be a bitch to get home now,” Frankie says. 

“I’m gonna head over to my girlfriend,” Tommy says, “she’s just a couple of streets over, gonna make sure she’s ok.” He waves a quick goodbye before he takes off, jogging down a side street. 

“C’mon,” Pope starts walking towards your building. You walk fast, getting out of the way of more and more FEDRA soldiers moving in, heavily armed and looking ready to take down anyone they don’t like. You feel relieved when you make it inside, everyone piling into your apartment, it’s bigger than Pope’s. Just as you’re about to step inside, one of your neighbors comes up the stairs. 

“Did you hear the explosion?” he asks and you nod. 

“Yeah, we were at the bar, do you know what happened?” 

“Those damn Fireflies, they blew up a truck! Blew a big hole in the street!” He shakes his head as he starts up the next flight of stairs, “FEDRA’s going to be worse than ever now, mark my words!”

You sink down on the couch in the crowded living room, Frankie sits on the arm rest next to you and you put your arm around his waist, leaning into his side. 

“Fucking Fireflies,” Pope grumbles, “I know they’re trying to make things better but what the fuck do they think blowing up trucks will do?”

“FEDRA will crack down even harder now,” Will says, handing Diana a damp washcloth and helping her clean the dust off her face and clothes. “Have they even been successful in other QZ’s?”

Through the radio, and overhearing people’s messages, you knew the Fireflies have spread over most of the US. From almost every QZ came reports of their activities, usually hiding dissent at how FEDRA ran the QZ’s, it was clear that FEDRA wasn’t doing a good job anywhere. 

“I haven’t heard anything of them having any major success,” you reply, “at most they manage to disrupt things, and from what little people say, FEDRA cracks down hard on everyone, not just the Fireflies.” 

“How does FEDRA respond?” Pope asks and you shake your head, grimacing. 

“Not well…extended curfews, harder punishments, even death penalties, harder controls of medicine and food, checkpoints across the QZ, a couple of places even have public executions, I heard they do hangings in Kansas City.” 

“Great,” Benny sighs, “It’ll be fucking Arlington all over again if they keep this up.” 

“You can’t blame them though,” Eve says, she’s sitting on Benny’s lap, “FEDRA are fucking fascists, the Fireflies want to over throw them and have democratic rule.” 

“Yeah, sure, FEDRA are a bunch of fascists, but when has bombing city streets ever helped?” Benny asks and Eve just shrugs. 

…

The next day FEDRA trucks drive through the QZ, blaring an announcement from loudspeakers in the truck beds. 

“The criminal gang known as The Fireflies is now classified as a terrorist organization. Any citizen found collaborating or participating will be tried and convicted.”

They drive through the QZ all day and before long you feel a headache throbbing behind your eyes as you sit at the radio. There’s less people stopping by today, most are too scared to go out unless they have to. 

“Joy came by with a message for her brother,” Sean says as you share lunch in the office. “She said a FEDRA officer told her they are going to execute anyone found to be a Firefly member.” 

“That’s terrible,” you say, “FEDRA’s trials are a joke already, now they’re going to execute people based on those?” You shake your head and scrape the last of the thin stew up with your arepa.

“They’ve put up checkpoints everywhere,” Sean sighs, “It feels like this is only the beginning.” 

“Not only checkpoints, I was stopped three times in the street by soldiers on my way over here this morning, everyone is a potential terrorist in their eyes now.” . 

Your lunch is suddenly disturbed by a door slamming open down the hall and shouts from the few people waiting for your lunch break to be over. Heavy boots come stomping down the hallway and you throw a worried glance at Sean. The door of the office is only half closed but now it’s thrown wide open, slamming against the shelf behind it with a loud crash. Two FEDRA soldiers step inside, their rifles pointed at the floor thankfully, followed by an office and two more soldiers. 

“On your feet!” the office barks, “Up against the wall!” You’d already flown to your feet when the door slammed open, now the soldiers advance on you both with their guns raised and you back up against the only window in the room. 

“Where are your records of incoming and outgoing messages?” the office asks, his voice rough as he pushes the papers on the radio desk around. 

“We-we don’t keep any records.” Sean stutters, “Sir,” he adds. 

“Why not? What are you hiding?” the officer, his name tag says Ambrose, barks, “All incoming and outgoing messages must be logged.”

“Only civilians use this radio, there is no rule saying we have to keep logs of their messages.” 

“New rule, from now on you have to keep a log of all messages,” the officer sneers, “Check those shelves for contraband, you two, check those boxes.” He directs the soldiers to the shelves and boxes that line the wall and they start rifling through the content. You know they only contain spare parts for the radio, nuts and bolts, a few wires, but the soldiers go through it like they’re expecting to find drugs and weapons, every piece is pulled out and left scattered on the floor. 

“Please, be careful with that, they’re spare parts for the radio,” Sean protests as one of the soldiers knocks over a box of equipment. 

“Shut up old man, or I’ll toss ‘em out the window,” Officer Ambrose snarls, “you’re lucky we’re letting you keep ‘em to start with.”

“They’re parts for this particular amateur radio model,” you interject, “they won’t work with the more powerful army issue radio FEDRA uses.” Frankie had taught you that when he helped Sean find some of the parts in an old AV shop a few blocks away. 

Ambrose looks at you and you see a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, “You’re Morales’s wife,” he says, “you and him hang around with the Millers and that other beaner, Garcia.” He looks you up and down, “No wonder you work there then, that’s how they get their information.” You feel your skin run cold, if he’s saying what you think he’s saying, then FEDRA knows about the smuggling. 

“She works here because she’s an excellent radio operator and she knows this machine better than even I do!” Sean protests, “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.” 

“Start keeping those records, old man,” he snarls, still looking at you, “Or we’ll come back and smash the radio and your office to pieces. And just a warning; I catch as much of a whiff of Firefly activity here, you’re both going to the scaffolds.” He barks orders at the soldiers and they step outside, marching behind Ambrose down the hallway. Sean and you are left surveying the mess they’ve left behind, the content of the shelves and boxes scattered across the floor. With a deep sigh you bend down and start putting things back, checking for damage as you go. 

It takes you the rest of the afternoon to tidy the office while Sean handles the people still waiting to receive and send messages. He writes down the messages people send, and the ones received, putting all the scraps of paper in a box. If FEDRA wants to read what people talk about, they’ll have to sort through it themselves. Although Sean does raise the suspicion that maybe FEDRA will try to listen in on what the radio receives or broadcasts, it means you’ll both have to be much more careful in the future. 

You head back home, feeling rattled by the day’s events, together with the checkpoints and being stopped in the street, FEDRA’s presence in the QZ is starting to feel oppressive. You remember how quickly it escalated in Arlington, praying it won’t come to that. 

Frankie hadn’t been past the radio office today, he’d been helping a friend of Sean’s clean out and repair an old open fireplace in exchange for new boots he desperately needed, his old ones falling apart. When you open the door to the apartment you see the new boots neatly placed inside the door and heavy snoring comes from the living room. You look around the corner and smile, Frankie’s on his back on the couch, one arm slung over his head, the other across his chest, mouth agape while he snores, loudly. He’s not usually a heavy snorer but he hasn’t been sleeping well, often waking up tired and groggy. You kneel down next to him and put your hand on his arm, he twitches but keeps snoring, his nose wiggling over his mustache, making you smile. He looks younger and softer than he has in years when he’s sleeping like this, relaxed without nightmares. He must’ve decided to take a nap on the couch after coming home so you leave him sleeping. You tiptoe past him and into the kitchen to start making dinner. 

The arepas are waiting to be fried when there’s a knock on the front door. You hear Frankie stir but he doesn’t wake up and you peek out before you open. Pope’s standing outside, a bag of groceries in his hand. 

“Hey,” he says as you let him in and take the bag from him. “I brought some of the groceries I got with my ration cards, your cooking is better than mine,” he grins as he toes off his unlaced boots. 

“Thanks,” you peer into the bag, spotting some stuff that was definitely not obtainable with ration cards, Pope, Will and Benny had made sure you had more than enough even though Frankie wasn’t smuggling and always seemed to make excuses to fill your pantry. “I’ll cook for you every day if you bring things like this,” you say and pull out a side of pork, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. 

“Frankie’s living the good life I see,” Pope chuckles, spotting him, still stretched out on the couch, snoring lightly now. 

“He’s not sleeping great at night, he must’ve been really tired,” you look over at him and smile, he mumbles and turns on to his side, back to the room. “I should probably wake him up now though, or he won’t sleep tonight.” 

“You get him up then, I’ll put this stuff away,” Pope takes the bag from you and goes to the kitchen while you go over to the couch and kneel down, wrapping your arm around Frankie’s waist and leaning your chin on his shoulder. 

“Hey, Frankie boy, time to wake up,” you whisper, running your hand up and down his side and he mumbles incoherently, still firmly asleep. “Frankie, baby, wake up, or Santi’s gonna eat all your dinner,” you tease, shaking him lightly. He must be really tired, usually he wakes up the second you touch him, now he only mutters and rolls over onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. 

From the kitchen Santi starts rattling plates around; “C’mon, pendejo, despiértate! I’m fucking starving!” he yells and Frankie finally stirs enough to peel his eyes open. 

“Cállate…” he mumbles while he blinks the sleep from his eyes. 

“Hey baby, wake up,” you smile, pressing your lips to his scruffy jaw, “you’ve been sleeping for hours I think.” All you get in response is a grumble and you take his hand, pulling him up to sitting. He rubs his hands over his face and blinks a few times again, his eyes are red and he looks pretty out of it still. 

“Are you feeling ok, Frankie? You look pretty terrible.” 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, giving you a weak smile before he yawns, “I slept like shit last night and I was fucking tired all day but I had to help with that fireplace, got ash fucking everywhere.” 

“Your eyes are really red, did you rinse them?” you ask and he nods. 

“Yeah, but I only had water, I hope it was clean enough.” 

“C’mon, dinner’s served,” Pope calls from the kitchen and you give Frankie a hand up. 

“The other’s aren’t here yet,” you say, “Will and Benny are coming over with Diana and Eve.” 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you,” Pope replies, “Will asked me to tell you that FEDRA is putting a new curfew in place, 6 am to 6 pm. It won’t come into effect until tomorrow but they didn’t wanna risk being outside with FEDRA soldiers looking to jump the gun any chance they get.” 

“But that means we won’t be able to have dinner together at all!” You sink down in your chair with a grumble, “Fuck FEDRA.” 

You start serving the stew, Frankie’s got his head in his hands on the table, giving you a tired smile when you place the bowl in front of him. 

“Thanks.” 

“Speaking of FEDRA assholes, an officer came by the radio today with a bunch of soldiers and turned the place upside down, luckily they didn’t break the radio,” you say, serving yourself. You see Frankie’s eyebrows furrow. 

“What did they want?” he asks. 

“Anything, I think,” you reply. “First they asked about logs for in- and outgoing messages, which we don’t keep of course. So they told us we have to from now on and I think they want to see if there’s any mention of the Fireflies from other QZ’s.” 

“And they think you’ll write that down in a log book?” Santi says, shaking his head, “they’re more stupid than I thought…” 

“I always just assumed they were listening in on the radio. That can’t be hard, it’s just regular amateur radio.” 

“You give FEDRA way too much credit, cariño,” Frankie says while dipping his arepa in the stew, “they don’t know shit unless they have someone who actually was a radio operator before the outbreak. And I doubt it.”

“There was something else, more worrying,” you say, “the officer, Ambrose, recognized me as your wife. He made it sound like he knew about the smuggling. When he saw that I worked the radio he said ‘so that’s how they get their information.’ “

“We haven’t used Sean’s radio for setting up trades for years,” Santi frowns, “he couldn’t know about the smuggling through that, he’s hasn’t been in the QZ long enough.” 

“So that means he knows about it some other way, but he doesn’t know how you get the information,” Frankie replies, “but how does he know?” 

“Yeah, that’s worrying,” Santi says, tapping his fingers on the table as he furrows his brows, “I’ll have to talk to Will and Benny, see if we’re missing something. Or someone.”  

The three of you fall silent while you finish dinner, it’s not until you’ve all sunk down onto the couch that Santi speaks again. 

“I’m thinking we should probably be more careful with our runs, go less often, even if FEDRA aren’t getting nosy,” he says, opening the bottle of whiskey he’d brought. “Runs are getting more and more risky, not just getting out without FEDRA noticing, but also getting through the area around the QZ.” 

“More infected?” Frankie asks and Santi nods. 

“Yeah, people who are trying to get to the QZ are getting infected before they get here. And if they can’t, or don’t want to, kill themselves, they just add to the ones already there.” 

“Please Santi, please be careful,” you plead with him, “it was always dangerous, if it’s even more now then maybe it’s best to stop.” 

“Don’t worry, we have some ideas,” he says, smiling at you. “We’ve got a contact with FEDRA who’s willing to make sure certain supply trucks don’t get checked too thoroughly. I need to make sure he’s reliable and then we can start bringing in goods that way.” 

“What’s Joel and Tommy doing?” Frankie asks. 

“Still looking for someone to partner up with, don’t think they’ve found anyone yet though.” Santi replies, “And as far as I know, they’re still going outside pretty regularly.” 

“I guess they have to if they want to meet up with the guy from Concord,” you say, “he’s the one supplying the oxy right?”

“Unless they found someone else, yeah, it’ll be the same guy.” 

Santi stays until he sees Frankie yawn and your eyes starting to droop closed, the day catching up with you both.. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, get some sleep, both of you,” he winks, “no pre-bed activities, you both look like shit.” 

“Thanks Santi, always the charmer,” you mock scowl at him as Frankie yawns again, wide enough to make his jaw pop. 

“Night, hermano, see you tomorrow,” he mumbles, getting to his feet. After Santi’s left he locks up and follows you into the bathroom. 

“I need a shower,” he mutters, his eyes half closed, “should’ve showered when I got home but I was too tired.” 

“I need a shower too,” you say as Frankie begins to peel off his clothes and he gives you a tired smile.

“Please shower with me, hermosa,” he says, holding out his hand as he kicks off his jeans, “No funny business, I promise.” 

“What if I want some funny business?” you smirk at him as you unbutton your own jeans but poor Frankie just shakes his head. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired, cariño, without the pills the nightmares are kicking my ass,” he says, turning on the water and letting it run warm, “I’m not being a very good husband.” 

“Don’t be silly, Frankie, you’re the best husband I’ve ever had,” you smile, dropping your shirt in the hamper and stepping in after Frankie, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. The warm water runs over you both and you sigh as it soaks over your tired muscles. Frankie just hums in response, hanging his head and letting the water run over him, until his brain catches up. 

“I’m the only husband you’ve ever had,” he says with a snort, turning in your arms and putting his own around you. “You have nothing to compare with,” he smiles down at you as you blink up at him through the water. 

“Am I the best wife you’ve ever had?” you ask with a coy voice that makes Frankie chuckle. 

“Hmm…let me think about it,” he says, stroking his beard while you playfully poke his ribs and he smiles again, “Best wife I’ve ever had, best human I’ve ever known, you’re perfect in every possible way,” he says, bending down and running the tip of his nose along yours, gently nudging your cheek before his lips find yours. You moan into his mouth as he makes you open up for him, his tongue slipping along yours, tasting you and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until you’re breathless. 

“I thought you said no funny business,” you mumble against his lips when you finally break apart. 

“I’m just kissing my wife,” he mumbles back, the heavy weight of his cock making itself known between you. 

“Does your dick know that?” you ask, sliding your hand between the two of you and closing your fingers around the thick length, even with the warm water from the shower, it feels hot in your hand. Frankie groans and you feel his hips jolt, thrusting into your hand as you start stroking him. 

“Let me take care of you, Frankie,” you mumbled, reaching up and pressing your lips against his neck, your tongue slipping over his wet skin. You can feel the rumble of his throat under it as his cock twitches in your hand. “I want to taste you, feel that heavy weight of your cock in my mouth as you come.” You pull back and look up at him, his eyes already closed, his head tilted back, “Say it, Frankie, tell me what you want me to do.” 

“Cariño,” he moans, “please, I want your mouth, suck my cock.” His hips jolt again, he’s holding back from fucking into your tight fist but you can feel him grow increasingly hard under your light grip. You give him a final kiss on his throat before you make him back up against the shower wall, he drops his head back with a dull thud. The harsh bathroom light is on and you take your time as you drop to your knees, admiring his thick and long cock, the shower has made it wet and slick, the head swollen and weeping. Looking up at him, blinking through the shower water, you see that he’s still got his eyes closed, but his breaths are rapid and strained. Still watching him you stick out your tongue and run the tip lightly over the slit. The effect is instant, a strained groan rumbles from him and it makes you smile, you love the sounds you can pull from him when he lets himself focus only on what you do to him, without him trying to make you feel good at the same time. 

The water makes your hand slide easily up and down his shaft while you take the head into your mouth, tasting the salty drops leaking from him as you make sure your tongue licks over every part of, tracing the ridge and veins, circling the head with warm lips. He bucks into you, his heavy groans louder as your hand closes more tightly around what’s not in your mouth, he’s already close, you can feel him swell and twitch in your mouth. Pulling back a little you glance up at him and see him looking down at you, open mouth and glassy eyes. Like always when he concentrates his tongue rests on his bottom lip, the pink tip peeking out. He’s breathing heavily and his hips start to thrust lightly almost of their own accord. Still looking at him you let him slip out of your mouth and lick a wide stripe from the bottom of his cock, all the way up along the underside, your hand gliding  down and gently cupping his balls as your mouth envelops him again, adding pressure, sucking him in between your tight lips. 

“Fuck, bebita, please…” he moans, almost a pained expression on his face, “don’t stop, I need your mouth,” he’s kept his hands by his sides, fist clenched, but now he cups your cheeks, caressing your skin as you take more of him, deeper into your mouth, his blunt head nudging against the back of your throat. His moaning is downright filthy, a panted whine as he squeezes his eyes shut. You increase the pressure, tightening your mouth’s firm grip around his slick cock, letting it slide in and out of your mouth as Frankie’s breathing grows erratic. 

“Don’t stop,” he groans, “so close, fuck, your mouth, hermosa…”

You breathe in and take him as deep as you can, your nose nudging the wet curls at the base of his cock, you can feel him spasming as you swallow around him, heavy on your tongue. Your mouth tightens around him, sucking firmly along the whole shaft and with a sudden, loud groan he comes, his hips bucking his cock into your throat, making you gag as you breathe through your nose. Hot liquid fills your mouth, dripping out on the sides as you suck him through his climax. He’s moaning above you, incoherent strings of Spanish, filth pouring out until his cock begins to soften in your mouth. You let him slip out, gently wrapping your hand around it and cleaning him off. 

“I might pass out,” he mutters, breathing heavily as he tilts his head back, trying to compose himself, “Fuck me, I needed that, cariño.” He opens his eyes as you stand up, placing a soft kiss on his little belly before he can kiss your lips. 

“Best wife I’ve ever had,” he mumbles and you giggle against his mouth.

“I know,” you smirk, “thought I’d remind you.” 

“Thank you for the reminder,” he smiles back. 

…

The next day things in the QZ get worse. As you walk to the radio with Frankie you can hear the new announcement from FEDRA; Going outside the QZ without a permit is now punishable by death. Entering the QZ without a permit is now punishable by death. Bringing in illegal contraband is now punishable by death. Collaborating with the Fireflies is now punishable by death. A special military court will be set up to deal with all violations of these rules

There are soldiers everywhere, check points every few blocks and everyone is on edge. Frankie holds on tightly to your hand, both of you keeping your heads down as you hurry through the streets. Life in the QZ was never easy, but now it feels like a police state, much worse than Arlington when it all blew up. Frankie looks worried when he leaves you but he’s got work in a different sector. 

“If I can even get there, so many fucking check points,” he grumbles, looking over his shoulder as another FEDRA truck rumbles past. 

“Be careful, come back if it gets too crazy,” you say, reaching up and giving him a kiss. 

“I’ll see you soon, cariño,” he gives you another quick kiss before leaving. 

He makes his way towards the eastern section, down towards the docks, passing through two check points on the way. It takes time but he’s only a little bit late when he knocks on the usual door. After a minute a window above him opens up and Tess looks down at him, her long auburn hair tied back. Lowering her gun she raises her hand in a wave.

“I’ll be right down.” 

“What happened to Georgie?” Frankie asks as Tess lets him in through the locked front door. 

“He got caught coming back,” she say with a scowl, “fucking idiot took a wrong turn in the tunnel and popped up right in front of a patrol.” 

“They’ve made that punishable by death now,” Frankie says as he follows her into the empty hotel she and Georgie use as a base, “they were announcing it all over the streets when I came over.” 

“Yeah, I heard. He was caught a couple of days ago and is still in lock up as far as I know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they hang him.” Tess sighs as she unlocks a door to her makeshift office, a small room tucked away at the end of the building behind signs reading ‘Entry prohibited - Bio-hazard’. 

“I hope he makes it, he’s not exactly a good friend but I can trust him and he scares the shit out of people.” She holds the door open for Frankie and he steps into the familiar little space.

“I need a favor from you,” she says as she closes the door behind them, “You know Joel Miller.” It’s a statement not a question and Frankie nods, his hand closed around the stack of ration cards he has in his pocket. 

“Since Georgie’s most likely gone, I’m going to need a new partner. Georgie had the connections for bringing in most of what I trade. Some connections I can take over, but most he handled on his own. Can you set up a meeting with him? I know he and his brother have been looking to partner with someone,” Tess opens a small safe, making sure to not show Frankie the combination, and pulls out two small baggies. “You still want oxy and ambien?” 

Frankie nods, “Joel really doesn’t trust anyone, you sure you wanna work with him?” He gives Tess his ration cards and she hands him the baggies before she counts the cards. 

“From what I hear, he might not trust people, but he won’t sell me out to FEDRA,” she replies, sticking the cards in her back pocket. 

“No, he wouldn’t do that, and as long as you know his loyalty is only to himself and Tommy, and you can handle that, he’s good to work with, knows his shit.” 

“How come you don’t work with him anymore?” Tess asks, ushering him out of the door again. 

“My wife doesn’t want me smuggling anymore, I’m all she’s got,” he says, a twinge of guilt eating at him as they walk back through the hotel, “she’s all I’ve got,” he adds. 

If Tess notices his uncomfort, she doesn’t mention it, “Must be nice having someone like that, something like that,” she says, “How long have you been with her?” 

“Since before the outbreak,” Frankie replies, “we’d been dating for a year when it happened.”

“You’re lucky, both of you,” Tess opens the front door again, leaning against the frame after Frankie’s passed through it. “Both of you still alive, together, must be nice,” she says again and there’s something she’s not saying, Frankie recognizes the undertone of grief in her voice, and he nods. 

“Yeah, we’ve been lucky, but we’ve lost people too,” he’s got his hands in his pocket, his fingers closing around the pills in the bags. “If I can introduce you to Joel, what’s in it for me?” he asks and Tess raises her eyebrows. She’s surprised it took him so long to ask. 

“Discounts,” she smirks, motioning with her hand to his pocket. 

Frankie nods and starts leaving, “I’ll talk to Joel, see if he wants to meet with you.” 

“Thanks Frankie,” Tess gives him a wave as he walks away. 

…

It doesn’t take Frankie long to get hold of Joel and tell him about Tess but the situation in the QZ deteriorates and plans are put on hold. The Fireflies attack the checkpoint into the sector where you live the day after he meets with Tess and for a few days it’s impossible to leave. You can’t get to the radio or to Will and Benny’s places, there are soldiers everywhere and all there is to do is to stay inside and lay low. You’re both starting to get worried about the situation in the QZ. 

“I don’t know where we’d go, but I think we should make an emergency exit plan,” Frankie says one day. “A plan to quickly get out of here if things go bad.”

You nod, looking down at the street through the window. There’s another patrol going down the street, heavily armed. There’s no curfew during the days, you were free to go outside. But as you watch the patrol stop two women walking down the street, searching their clothes and bags, it’s clear FEDRA isn’t letting anyone walk the street in peace right now. 

Frankie comes up behind you, leaning his head on your shoulder as he puts his arms around your waist. 

“I’ll talk to the guys, see what we can do. We hid a working car just outside the wall, that’ll get us away from Boston at least.” 

“All seven of us?” you ask, looking back at him. He sighs and shakes his head. 

“No, all seven of us won’t fit, but we’ll figure something out.” 

“Maybe we should just try to find some abandoned farm somewhere remote, live away from everyone else,” you say, leaning back so that you can feel his solid chest behind your back, “just risk it out there rather than in here with FEDRA, it just keeps getting worse and more and more oppressive.” 

“Maybe the Fireflies will be successful,” Frankie mumbles, watching the patrol disappear around a corner, “turn things around.” 

“You really think so?” you ask, he can hear the doubt in your voice. 

“No, not really,” he sighs, “but I like your farm idea, fuck everyone else, just you and me.” 

“It’s always just you and me, Frankie, even here. The others are like family but not like you, not the way you’re my family.” 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck as he tightens his grip on you, you can feel his warm breath on your skin. He doesn’t say anything so you just stand there while he breathes in your scent, memorizing it, as if he wouldn’t recognize it anywhere already. 

…

The morning the checkpoint reopens he leaves before you’re out of bed, gently dropping a kiss on your cheek while he rouses you, sitting on the bed. 

“I need to see Miguel about some spare parts, the clinic needs to fix some medical equipment,” he mumbles, his lips close to your skin while you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He chuckles and untangles himself, “I’ve got to go, cariño, I’ll see you this afternoon, I’ll come pick you up at the radio.” 

He makes his way through the checkpoint and over to Joel’s place. Tommy’s already there and Frankie leads them to the meeting spot he’d agreed on with Tess before the check point was bombed, hoping she’ll come back at the same time. Appointments were often postponed or interrupted in the QZ so there was a habit of just turning up at the same place, same time a couple days in a row and hoping for the best if you didn’t hear from the other person.

Tess is there, waiting, when the two Miller brothers and Frankie scramble up to the second floor of a partially bombed building. Joel grumbles about having to ‘drag and climb a fuckin’ dumpster’  but stands up straight and gives Tess a once over when she pushes herself off the dilapidated office desk she was leaning against. 

“This is Tess Servopoulos,” Frankie says, “Joel and Tommy Miller,” he points at each man. 

“Nice to meet you, Tess,” Tommy says, holding out his hand to her and she takes it with a smile. 

“Same, your reputation precedes you,” she replies, holding out her hand to Joel too, who accepts it and gives her hand a firm shake. 

“Only a good reputation, I hope,” Tommy chuckles, easing the tension in the meeting, although Joel still stands rigid, putting his hands into his jeans pockets after shaking her hand. 

“Frankie says you’re reliable and know your shit,” Tess says, eyeing Joel's silent form like she’s trying to gauge him. She knows he’s the one she has to convince and he’s doing his best to look as standoffish as possible. 

“We’ve been smuggling pretty much since the outbreak,” Tommy replies, “been in Boston for about five years now.”  

Tess nods, “I’ve been working with Georgie for about six years, here and there, but he got caught by FEDRA last week.” 

“Yeah, Frankie told us, bad luck,” Tommy nods but Joel scoffs. 

“Bad luck…he got sloppy, if that’s the kind of operation you run, we’re not interested, darlin’,” he says and Tess narrows her eyes at him, opening her mouth but closes it again, biting back whatever retort was on her mind. 

She turns to Tommy instead, “I know you used to work with a few other guys, why are you looking for a new partner?” 

“Our cousins have a thing about not smuggling drugs,” Joel replies, cutting Tommy off, “that a problem for you?” 

“Smuggling ‘em? Not at all,” Tess says, glancing at Frankie and he does his best to not look at Joel. When Joel asked how Frankie knew Tess he said he’d traded with her for spare parts for the radio. It was true, he had traded with her for parts, but only once. 

Joel looks at Frankie, connecting the dots, as Tommy gives Tess a rough outline of how they usually operate, what they can get their hands on. 

“You ok with that, Frankie?” Joel asks him, “Tess trading drugs? You got a handle on it?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” Frankie looks up at Joel and wills himself to keep his eyes steady on the older man, “it’s fine.” 

Joel gives him a slow nod, “Ok, as long as you’re fine with it.” 

But Tess frowns and looks at Joel, “What do you mean?” she asks, eyeing him, “Why would Frankie have any problems with me trading drugs? He buys them from me.” 

Tommy raises his eyebrows at this piece of information and looks at Frankie who tries to square his shoulders and look like he’s in control. 

“They’re worried I’ll get addicted,” he says, “I got pretty bad PTSD after I left the army and when shit gets too dark here, it comes back,” he shrugs, feigning a casual attitude he doesn’t feel, “but I just need the shit to sleep, the nightmares never really went away and the pills help with that, that’s all.” 

He knows he’s not telling the whole truth and Joel certainly knows that, but Frankie meets his eyes and refuses to look away, willing the man to understand that he’s got it under control.  

Tess gives him a hard stare as Frankie tugs on his ball cap and crosses his arms. “Ok, as long as you’ve got a handle on it, I don’t have any issues, I’m not your moral compass, we all do what we need to do to get by. And from what I hear, you guys sell drugs too?,” she looks over at Joel who nods. 

“Yeah, but I stopped selling to Frankie a while back, and we stopped working together, what we did triggered his PTSD.”

“I’ve got it under control now,” Frankie says, he can feel the familiar panic creeping through his nerves. If Joel tells Tess to cut him off he has nowhere else to go. “Since I stopped with the smuggling I’m fine, it’s just the nightmares that give me insomnia, I just need the drugs to help me sleep on nights when it gets bad. But it’s less now, hardly ever.” He’s lying through his teeth, trying to keep his voice steady and his poker face on, but he’s not sure he manages.

“I don’t give a fuck, Frankie,” Joel says, “I’m not selling to you, mainly out of respect for your wife and Will and Benny. But like she said, I ain’t your moral compass.” He turns to Tess again, “Either way, that doesn’t affect our potential partnership. Since Frankie trusts you, maybe this can work, but I need to talk to my brother in private first. We’ll let you know in a couple of days.”

Tess nods and shakes both Joel and Tommy’s hands before the two men leave. Frankie and Tess follow after them, jumping down onto the dumpster. 

“Your wife’s not gonna come after me for supplying drugs to you, is she?” Tess asks as they reach the ground. 

“No,” he shakes his head, starting to walk away. 

“She doesn’t know, does she?” Tess has crossed her arms over her chest and is giving him another hard stare. 

“She does, she knows I take them to sleep,” Frankie tugs on his cap again, he knows it’s a nervous gesture and Tess just shakes her head. 

“You’re a shit liar, Frankie,” she says as she gives him another hard look, “Just keep it under control, ok?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s under control:” He raises his hand and gives her a wave, “I’ll see you around, I’ve got to get going.” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you around, Frankie.” 

…

Despite Joel’s mistrusting nature, he agrees to start working with Tess, on a trial basis. Frankie finds out a few days later when he asks Tess for an actual spare part for the clinic. 

“Joel’s a piece of work, but I prefer that to someone who throws his trust at anyone, that’ll get you killed,” she says, taking the ration cards the clinic had given him in exchange for a pristine looking piece of equipment. Frankie doesn’t know what it does exactly but he knows the one in the machine is broken and he’ll fix it somehow. 

“Joel knows his shit,” Frankie says, tucking the equipment into his backpack, walking back through the hotel with Tess. “Thanks for the part, Diana will be happy, the machine is important to them.”

“Sure, let me know if you need anything else.” She gives him a wave as he leaves. 

When he meets up with the rest of the guys later at the bar he tells them about Joel’s new partner. 

“I’m surprised Joel’s prepared to work with someone else,” Benny leans back on the couch and kicks out his long legs, “Tommy says he’s turned down both Miguel and that guy Robert.” 

“It’s a smart move,” Will replies, “FEDRA is all over the place, he’s gonna need an extra pair of eyes for any bigger trades. We’re gonna need to be real careful too, it’s no longer just a few nights in FEDRA lock up. They’re actually going through with fucking executions.”

“As if dealing with raiders and infected wasn’t bad enough, now FEDRA wants to kill us too?” Benny huffs, “Half the stuff we bring in goes to soldiers, for fucks sake…” 

Pope nods and takes a sip of the bar’s homemade whiskey, grimacing at the taste, “They were setting up for a hanging when I came over, three guys caught in condemned buildings. If FEDRA’s  already suspecting us like your girl said, Frankie, then we should probably lay low for a few weeks. We’ve got the supplies we need for now.” 

“What about the trade we have planned, we’ve got stuff coming in from Worcester, that deal Will and I set up? We’re gonna need to receive it and get it stashed as soon as it comes in.” Benny looks over at the others. 

For years their best contact had been a FEDRA soldier in the QZ, and through him Benny and Will had made a connection with a FEDRA officer in the Worcester QZ, the man’s brother in law. It had taken months but a convoy of FEDRA trucks were due to come over from Worcester, together with the officer and a number of much needed supplies hidden among the official FEDRA shipments. Thanks to Boston being a much bigger QZ the guys had been able to offer him a large stack of ration cards in exchange for a number of in demand items. 

Pope nods at Benny, “Yeah, we have to handle that one, we won't be able to postpone it.” He glances over at Frankie, “I hate to ask, hermano…” he says, “but we could really use your help, just as a look out, for that trade now. You think you’re ok to do it? I hate to say it, but you still look like shit.” 

Frankie shrugs, “I still don’t sleep great, the nightmares are a bitch, but yeah of course, if you need me, I can do it.” 

“Are you sure, Frankie?” Will asks, “I don’t want you doing this if you don’t feel ok, we’re not risking your recovery for this. The three of us will just do it as usual.” 

“If you need me, man, I can do it. And it’s just as a lookout right? That’s just keeping an eye on things, making sure no FEDRA patrols are around?” 

“Yeah, we’ve set up a lookout point near the location and we got some radios. All you’d need to do is sit there and radio me if anything happens.” Pope says, glancing over at Will who nods. 

“Talk to your wife first though, we don’t want to cause any family drama here, make sure she’s onboard with it and thinks you're ok to do it.” 

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her tonight, I’ll let you guys know tomorrow,” Frankie says, putting down his glass and getting ready to leave. “I’m picking her up from the radio office in a little bit. What day is this happening?”

“Thursday,” Pope says, “I’ll come by tomorrow and we’ll talk it through.” 

“Ok, yeah, I’ll talk to her, but I feel good, I can do that, I wanna help you guys anyway I can,”

“Appreciate it, man,” Benny says, Frankie drops his hand on the younger man’s shoulder as he’s leaving and Benny gives it a quick squeeze, looking up at Frankie. “It’s good to know you’re doing better, Fish.”  

Frankie gives him a crooked smile and a wave to the other two and heads out the door of the bar. 

…

Frankie’s waiting outside the radio when you step outside, Sean’s taken over the radio for the evening and you’re stretching out your back after a long shift hunched over the dials and notebooks. You see him before he sees you, leaning against a barrier on the other side of the street, watching a group of children playing on a makeshift playground in a small park. They’ve all got the rough looking hand me downs the orphan children of the local FEDRA school wears and there’s two elderly ladies in FEDRA uniforms keeping an eye on them. 

Frankie looks tired, dark circles under his eyes and his ordinarily tan skin is ashen and gray. His curls are still brown but his scruffy beard is mostly silver now, as you watch his hand comes up and absentmindedly rubs across his jaw, scratching at the short hairs. You’d spent some time last night giving his beard and hair a trim, giggling as he wriggled his nose when the hairs tickled him. Sometimes he was back to his normal self, relaxed and soft around you, sleeping better without nightmares, even cracking jokes and messing with Benny when you met up with the others. But you could see that he was struggling still, the good nights were far apart and most mornings he moved like a sleepwalker, taking time to come back to life. In the evenings he stumbled to bed and was fast asleep as soon as he’d curled himself around you, sometimes the nightmares would plague him but he couldn’t wake up, you’d shake him and he’d be trapped in his nightmare. When you finally managed to rouse him he’d be disoriented and panicky until he fell asleep again, almost instantly. 

Now you walk across the street as he watches the kids take turns on the makeshift tire swing. You know which one of the children he’s looking at; a young girl, about five, with the same dark curls as Lucía. She’s hanging on to the swing, shrieking with laughter as another girl spins the tire around, her hair whirling around her head as she throws it back and giggles. 

“Hey Frankie,” you say as you come up to him, he turns around as you sneak your arms around his waist, pulling him out of his silent reverie. 

“Hey cariño,” he says, giving you a kiss before turning back to the park. The girl had gotten off the swing and was running towards the slide. “She reminds me of Lucía,” he mumbles, glancing over at you, “makes me wonder what she’d look like now.” You give his waist an extra squeeze as you watch the girl shoot down the slide and run around to climb back up to the top. 

“She’d be fifteen now, too old for playgrounds,” he gives a small smile, “although, I don’t think she’d ever get too old for swings, she loved them.” 

The little girl has climbed to the top of the slide for a third time and is standing up, waving at someone. 

“Come here! Ellie, come on the slide with me!” she calls, waving her arm and a younger girl hurries across from the swings and climbs the stairs, her short legs struggling with the big steps. The older girl instructs the younger to sit down in front, and together they slide down, their high pitched giggles carrying in the clear spring air. It makes your heart clench, the sound and the image so normal, reminding you of the times you’d been at the playground with Frankie and Lucía. 

“C’mon, we should get moving,” Frankie says, pulling his eyes away from the dark haired girl as he takes your hand. His mood is subdued on the way back to the apartment. You tell him about your day and he hooks his arm around your shoulder, listening as you walk through the crowds. But he remains silent, lost in his own thoughts when you stop talking. When you get back home he toes off his shoes and goes to stand in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed as you fill a pot of water.  

“Joel and Tommy are gonna partner up with a woman called Tess,” he says after a while, breaking the silence. “Tess has been helping me get spare parts for the clinic and she asked if I’d introduce her to them.” 

You look over at him, you can hear from the tone of his voice that he’s not done. And he confirms it as he drops his gaze, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. 

“Pope and the guys asked if I could help them out on a trade, as a lookout, but they wanted me to talk to you first, make sure you’re ok with it.” 

“Tell me about it,” you say, turning to lean on the counter as he comes over and stands next to you. 

“They’ve got a connection with this guy in Worcester, he’s bringing in supplies on a FEDRA truck, as part of a bigger convoy. They need me to be the lookout when they meet the men inside the QZ. I won’t go outside and I won’t be near the actual trade, just be the lookout.” 

“Do you feel ok about it?” you ask and Frankie nods. 

“Yeah, I wanna help them with this,” he says, turning a bit so that he can look at you. “FEDRA is patrolling more and they need me to warn them if there’s a patrol approaching.” 

“Your nightmares are still really bad though, and sometimes I can’t even wake you up from them, Frankie. If something happens, is it gonna trigger you even more?” 

“If something happens and I’m not there to keep watch, that’s gonna be even worse,” Frankie shakes his head, “They need my help with this. Once they’re done with this they’re gonna lie low, FEDRA’s hanging people over the smallest charge now,  but this trade is too big and they can’t postpone it.” 

“And you’ll only be lookout, away from the actual trade?” you question and Frankie nods again. 

“They have a lookout point nearby, I’ll have a radio and just contact Santi if something happens, that’s it.” 

You lean against the counter while Frankie looks at you, waiting for your answer, for your approval. It makes you realize that he hasn’t done that before, let you make the decision. He’s told you about the plans, listened to your opinion and adjusted the plans and made changes so that you would be more comfortable about letting him go. This time, when what he’s been asked to do really doesn’t seem all that dangerous by comparison, he’s leaving the whole decision up to you. 

“Ok, if you think you’re ready for it, I trust you Frankie, you should help them.” 

“I do, I feel strong enough to do this, thank you cariño,” he steps in front of you and grabs your thighs, hoisting you up onto the counter so that he's standing between your legs. It makes you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands find your hips, kneading the soft flesh under his fingers. 

“When is it?”

“Thursday…was your skin always this soft here?” he’s running his nose down your neck, pulling back the scruff of your hoodie and burying it just above your clavicle. 

“You’re distracting me, Frankie, I had more questions,” you laugh, his tongue comes out and licks a warm strip across the ridge of the bone. 

“I know, that’s the point,” he mumbles against your skin. 

“Much as I love this horny version of you, you should try and get as much sleep as possible until Thursday, I know how tired you are.” 

“Take me to bed then,” he chuckles, still buried against the crook of your neck, leaving a burning trail of nips and kisses up your throat. 

“We haven’t even had dinner,” you laugh as he tries to make you hook your legs around his waist so that he can pick you up, “Let me make dinner and then I’ll take you to bed for dessert.” 

“My favorite kind of dessert,” he smiles, pulling back from your neck to kiss your mouth, making you part your lips for his tongue. 

“Why don’t you take a nap on the couch while I make dinner, Frankie,” you say when he starts working his way back down along your jaw, “because at this rate, we’re never getting dinner,” you have to giggle when he starts pushing up your shirt, his warm hands palming over your back. 

“Too horny to take a nap now,” he chuckles, but he stands up and lets you slip off the counter. And when you start pulling out ingredients he gives your butt a final squeeze and does go to the couch. It doesn’t take long before you hear his soft snores, when you look over he’s face planted on the couch, one arm dangling off it, the other under his head as a pillow.

…

The trade is set up to take place after dark, and after curfew. Sunset in May in Boston is late so Frankie and the guys make their way to the meeting spot well before the curfew comes into effect and bunker down to wait for darkness. In an off limits building, an old office building near the QZ wall, Pope, Will and Benny have set up a secluded spot for the trade. Now the four of them are in the building across the small square, up on the fifth floor, inside a spacious apartment with a bird’s eye view of the neighborhood, the lookout point. 

The sun is slowly sinking below the horizon while they wait for the agreed upon hour. Benny’s brought an old battered pack of playing cards and they’re killing time by playing rounds of poker. Frankie curses when he loses yet another game, thankful they’re only playing for the silver cutlery Pope found in the apartment's kitchen. The utensils clink as Will drags them across the dining room table after winning his seventh game. 

“Fuck, Will, teach me your ways,” Frankie grumbles, he’s down to two spoons and one knife.

“Skill, Catfish,” Will chuckles, sorting his cutlery into neat piles, “And years of counting numbers.” 

“I just keep getting shit cards,” Benny mutters, tossing his losing hand onto the table with a snap of his wrist, making them scatter. “Your turn to deal, Pope.” 

Pope gathers the cards and quickly deals again, “I’m winning those spoons back, Will, just so you know.” 

“Whatever you say, man, you’re happy to try,” Will chuckles, straightening out the six large spoons he’s got neatly lined up along his eight knives and eight forks. “Just need to get Frankie’s two spoons and I’ve got a full set.” 

After two more rounds, Frankie kicks back his chair and throws his arms up in defeat, “I’m fucking bust.” 

“It’s alright, Fish, Diana and I will be thinking about you when we have dinner tomorrow,” Will smirks, sliding the spoons over to his side of the table. 

Pope looks at his watch and out at the dark night sky, “We should get going, scout the area again and position ourselves.” 

Benny gathers the cards and they all pack up. Frankie makes his way out to the large balcony wrapped around the corner of the building and scans the square and the surrounding streets. 

“All’s quiet out there,” he says in a hushed voice as he comes back in. Pope grabs his radio and turns it to the pre-agreed frequency and tests the connection. 

“I’ll radio you when we’re in position, make sure the connection is clear,” he says, clipping it onto his belt as Frankie does the same with his radio. “And don’t forget our contact is going to signal you when they cross the square.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s all under control,” he nods, waiting while the three men pick up the equipment they’d put by the front door when they came in. Even though it was a trade, old habits die hard, and they all had concealed handguns and backpacks with extra gear. Frankie secures his own gun at the back of his pants and triple checks the battery on the radio before picking up a battered pair of binoculars. 

“Alright, ready to go?” Will asks and the other two nods. “Radio us if there’s anything irregular, Catfish.”

“Stay safe, I’ll see you at the rendezvous soon.” 

Frankie locks up behind the guys as they leave the apartment and hunkers down on the balcony. He’s dragged out some of the less damaged couch pillows and propped them up along the railing and floor, making a nest where he’s hidden from sight. Through a small opening he can scan the streets below, laying flat on his belly with the binoculars in front of him. His nerves are making him jumpy, he’s not used to being without the sleeping pills this long, and it adds an extra layer of stress to the usual laser focus he has during a mission. Even though he’s ‘just’ the lookout he feels the familiar tingling in his spine as he scans the street. 

The radio crackles to life on his belt and Pope’s voice comes through; “Catfish, we’re in position. Do you copy, over?” 

“Loud and clear, Pope. I’m in position, over.”

“Maintain radio silence unless necessary, over.” 

“Wilco, out.” 

He clips the radio back on to his belt and settles down. There’s still about thirty minutes left before the other party is due to turn up, but both Will and Pope like having plenty of margins to work with. He glances at his watch and calculates in his head how long it would take for one of the oxy tablets to kick in. He needs something to sooth his nerves, it’s like he can feel every seam and stitch on every piece of clothing he’s wearing, scratching and grating against his overheated skin. Even his hair is itching where it curls over his ears and he swipes off his cap and pushes it back. Just one oxy, to take the edge off, let him focus while he waits. 

He swallows it dry, almost regretting it as the bitter flavor coats the inside of his mouth. But soon he feels the effect, his body goes loose, the scratching stops. He watches two men hurry across the square, stopping to give a one handed wave three times up towards Frankie’s balcony. The trade is underway, he leans back against the wall. 

It’s so quiet up here. The QZ is always so noisy, so many people in such a small space, up here he can’t hear anything, it’s so peaceful. 

All the people are gone. It’s only him. Up here. 

And these pillows are so soft, they feel like clouds against his face. 

Only him high up in the sky with no noise.

Just soft pillows and soft clothes and darkness behind his eyelids.

Chapter 33

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

[drhighhopess]

Cleon Week 2024

A Claire x Leon fanfiction based on the themes for cleon week (24th-30th of September) each chapter represents the day we are going off

theme : The Key to Her Heart

Word count : 705

Chapter : 1 / 7

Type : sfw

a/n : before you start the fanfic I want to address some background info just in case. In this fic there is never a Raccoon City Incident. Meaning Claire and Leon are getting a regular go for their relationship. As well with each chapter may have a different timeperiod of cleon, if so will be stated. They all will be completely different and not related to one another.

The sounds of people laughing could be heard from the whole carnival. People stood with their loved ones, being able to enjoy the moments and memories to be formed. The same ones they could laugh and smile about later on, in a day or two, maybe even a year, or their last moments. It was the best thing about spending time with someone that makes you day, especially doing something that made both or all of you happy.

The December cold flowed throughout Raccoon City. Claire took a soft breath out, seeing the air she breathed out from her mouth. A small but simple reminder on how cold it truly was.

The man that stood next to her took her out on a date. They've had a couple throughout the time they met. It was around the end of September, when Claire went to meet her brother Chris, one of the STARS members in his building. It was just his first day, she made a comment about him. It was snarky, if he was honest it bothered him at the time.

He definitely doesn't mind the comment she made today.

A month after they met he asked her out on a date. Finding out she lived in New York where her college was, which would mean she wouldn't see him often. Even then throughout that month she was conveniently always in Raccoon. A part of him believed it was because of him, or at least he truly wished it was. The opportunity gave him a chance to learn about who she was. Knowing what she liked,

her favorite color,

her favorite food,

or even her favorite number.

Now it's officially been the first month, she was out of college for winter break. Since she was staying at his place instead of her brothers for the first time he wanted to spend some quality time with the redhead.

Claire had her fingers intertwined with his, they walked together throughout the park. Looking and wondering whether they should pick another ride.

“Can we get hot chocolate?”

“Whatever you want, Red” Leon spoke, the smile creeping from up under his face. Before slightly shaking his head to cover up his excitement.

Kennedy took his wallet from his back pocket. Turning over to find some cash inside of its contents, “May we please get two hot chocolates?”

.

The two went over to the carnival games, seeing some plushies available to win at the stands.

“Oh shit that's Mr Raccoon” Claire smiled, the ends of her lips turned up. Seeing the animal that represented the city was pretty cool.

Yeah it was practically Leon's goal to win it now, this was a moment she'd remember for every part of their relationship. It's one of the very few first dates. Considering the fact that it's pretty early on, he wants to make it just as memorable as possible.

Plus, once Claire goes back to her dorm room she'll have the stuffed animal with her, to think of him when she looks at it.

.

“He looks so damn weird I love it..” The redhead examined. It was weird, maybe since the guy who won it for her was Leon. Also the thing was cute. It wasn't your average teddy bear.

And yeah, he definitely won it.

Even if that means it took over five times.. she had a good laugh. In the end the college student ended up with a huge stuffed animal to carry around for the rest of the night.

Or.. being the gentleman he was, he offered to carry it for her. Even with the resistance she clearly displayed, he ended up holding it for the night.

And, maybe he was right.

Just maybe when she went back home to her roommate.

Back to her best friend, the same girl she ranted about the whole two weeks she spent with Leon.

She thought about him each time she saw the stuffed animal, it was like the key to heart. Leon's actions were such a small gesture that stuck. And those actions caused her to have one more reason out of thousands and thousands of all of them that made her crush on him. And maybe even love him now.

[absolutebl]

Hi! Why do so many BLs have one character meet the other when they were a child and love them since then…. I’m watching History 5 and the second couple has this trope with the older one loving the child but loads of them have a child ‘loving’ the older guy for years (Minato, second couple in History 4, lovely writer)

Is this a common trope in non-BL Asian dramas? Maybe I’m missing some cultural aspect but it makes me feel a bit weird… I’m fine when they both meet as children but when one’s a child and one’s an adult it feels off to me!

We Met As Kids, Therefore I Love You

Yes, it's a super common trope in ALL Asian romances.

There's a human cross-cultural claim-to-care around having met someone "first" giving one person priority to another's affection and in their life.

For example, think about how many fans (of say a Kpop group or band or actor) will claim to be "better" or morally superior to other fans of that same talent, because they have have liked that group/person "since the beginning" or "before they were famous." How about those who claim superiority because they read the book before the TV series became popular?

To have loved something FIRST is often allied with being better at loving it, there is a value judgement to longevity of association. (This is also true around disliking someone/something first.)

There isn't a name for this logical fallacy, although there should be. I would say something like appeal to tradition argumentum ad antiquitatem (which is a red herring fallacy). So appeal to time, argumentum ad tempus?

(The 8th Sense is doing some VERY interesting things to philosophically battle this concept right NOW, actually.)

Narratively speaking, if you have only a short amount of time to unfold the story (for example We Best Love) this trope gives writers a quick way to justify pining and affection (usually from the seme character). So backstory can be cribbed for character development. That character is already in love, so we don't have to show him falling in love, only one character is in play for that.

In longer narratives (like Word of Honor, Lovely Writer) this is a secret that gets to be slowly uncovered and explored as a plot point. If you have them meet as children, or when one is a child then it justifies one character not remembering the other (because peoples appearances change from childhood to adulthood).

I think the popularity in Asian dramas in particular has to do with collectivist cultures and family obligation/intimacy priority. To have known (or met) someone as a kid adds a level of intimate connection that justifies any affection that much more than meeting later in life.

There's a very funny scene in Kdrama (noona romance) Thumping Spike (recommended) that directly mocks this trope. Near the end the main couple openly together and they are in the car with the (former) love triangle dude. He lost, even though he's the one with the childhood crush. He directly combats this concept by saying (basically): If longevity guaranteed romance, I should be married to the grandma who runs my local convenience store.

Another well known Kdrama that combats this trope is Strong Woman Do Bong Soon (recommended) which goes out of its way to have the love triangle character who would normally lose the girl, actual win her this time. (So the one who loses is the moot crush from childhood.)

In BL, I tracked this one for a while:

Also here are a few BLs that DO NOT use this trope:

(source)