#but the thought of eating more does now nauseate me

[st-just]

Hipstery artifical doughnut place a few blocks from my apartment is ALSO participating in novelty burger week. I was dragged there for lunch.

I can feel my arteries clogging. Worth it.

[suguru-getos]

Could you write a continuation of yandere satosugu where the reader lived and they try everything to help her get better and care for her?

| making up for mistakes | yandere satosugu x reader |

-> continuation of the first part: link 🔗

you had survived the almost suicide attempt you so carefully & yet so carelessly attempted. you were sure you weren’t getting up after this. damn it you made sure to hit your head hard, you could see blanks, you could see stars in your eyes until it all faded to a peaceful nothing-ness.

now, you’re awake again. nothing hurts. you know they must’ve told their friend shoko to aid in your injuries. you feel like you’ve woken up from a long slumber. unwanted as it may be… it does make you feel eerily refreshed. you stretch your limbs from the bed, they’re going to kill you for this. kill you for hampering with their property. oh well — at this point you’re fine with it. what’s it going to do? hurt you. pain is all there is they could ever offer anyways. maybe you can scream out and wish it gets over. that’s all you set your mind to.

you look to the side, the curtains are open and there is a little drizzle of snow. it brings a smile to your face. what if you hadn’t been kidnapped? it would’ve been so fun to hop into one of the lovely cafes you like & order some hot cocoa. put both your hands and wrap them around the ceramic of the hot cup and exhale in utter relaxation of the aroma the sweet cafe has to offer. oh… happy days.

its nauseating what your life is now, wrapping a blanket around yourself and checking down below. you are wearing clothes, decent clothes… not the sultry, slutty ones that satoru forces you to wear. you feel like you could throw up when the reminder occurs again. beaten up like you were nothing but an animal, throwing up in pain and anxiety--

"there we go! princess! awake! oh my god!" satoru comes in and hugs you tightly, his bulky arms wrapping against you, he doesn't let your mind have the time to panic. besides, satoru was... not the one who inflicted you that pain. even though he did nothing about it, in a moment of pure misery, your mind would latch on to him for comfort. "baby- you scared daddy, please don't do that ever again. fuck! i thought i lost you." you could hear the heartbeats on your snow haired man, they were ragged and reminded of the same panic you once bore.

"sorry." your eyes lack all emotions, just a soft murmur escaping you. the haunting realization that you were alive was eating you up. even so, it was your soul that had died. it's the dejected way you answered that makes satoru panic even more. immediately at your knees, leaning against your thighs and mumbling soft apologies, tears wetting your skin. "please baby, I'm so sorry, i should never have let that happen... you did a mistake that's all! you- you- pissed us off." he shakes his head, hugging you tightly.

your hands robotically landed across his hair, caressing. "it's okay, i did wrong, i understand."

your responses were making him nauseous, he hated seeing you in pain, but suguru always says its something that's needed. why is it needed? you're not an animal, are you? the ways with which satoru and suguru try to 'discipline' their toy they are delusional enough to call their lover is insane.

"i got breakfast, little one." now, your heart sinks. you hear the voice of the man who did this to you, mothering, now that his rage is faded into pure, eviscerating guilt. "you have no idea the joy it gives me seeing you awake." suguru hums, and you latch onto satoru, hugging him tightly. satoru's heart skips a beat. this was not the first time you had reached out to him, yet, you did it by your own. it gives him a sick sense of protectiveness. "he wouldn't do anything to ya baby, suguru loves you too." he reminds, looking at a devastated suguru.

"please don't hurt yourself again, angel" suguru hums, leaning in and kissing your forehead. it makes you sick to your stomach, how they treat you right now. you know that whatever you did yielded no results. and they are ever so careful about the same. you're pretty sure you'd have either of them by your side at all times.

"let's go and eat, suguru's made your favorite!" satoru chirps, happily holding you princess-style and going to the dining area. your eyes wandered to the other room on the way, the same room where this all happened, it's making you panic internally. the grotesque reminder of how they treated you. you're about to throw up again.

as soon as satoru puts you down, you run to throw up in disgust, nothing comes out except a few drops of water. your stomach is empty as is. a large, looming hand caresses your back. "I'm sorry, angel. please relax." suguru-- it's suguru...

"i'm sorry." you answered, "i am so sorry." you nodded to get back to the dining area, you should know better than to be with satoru. its not like suguru wouldn't do anything he wants anyways... you'd just like to have some comfort over it.

luckily for you, the breakfast went fine, you were eating quietly, while satoru just observed you. how uncomfortable you looked, the subtle shift in your demeanor. every tiny thing. suguru is essentially doing the same, gazing at your way and observing you. "you look beautiful." suguru comments, and you force a smile from the deepest pits of your psyche. "thank you, suguru."

you know he's ticked off, you need to call them 'daddy' and you're here, addressing them by their first names. sigh... they just have to help you heal, there isn't anything they can do about it really. they pushed you this far, and they should make up for it.

however, as days turn into weeks, satoru and suguru are forced to face the haunting realization that your mental and physical health is worsening. you barely eat, barely talk... you just, stare into the nothingness of empty spaces. satoru has avoided missions to take care of you. he is by your side, sleeps next to you, kisses your forehead, helps you take a shower. while earlier, you tried to at least pretend and work with it. answer however you could, talk to them, fake your smiles, now its nothing. you barely talk.

this time, satoru has a mission to take care of, but suguru is the one who's spending time with you. gently placing you on the bathtub, caressing your forearm, massaging it, decorating it with petals. "there we go little girl, there we go. feels nice?" he coos, and when you don't respond, sighs weakly. he wishes he could at least hear something out of you. when he sees you immersed in auto-pilot, he hums by himself; "yes, yes it is." he has to talk to himself in hopes that its you talking to him. "you know, me and satoru... we were thinking a trip to Italy sounds nice, or maybe Paris.." you used to love travelling, he hopes that would utter out a response from you. NOTHING comes out of you however. that makes suguru's heart break a little, "or maybe, anywhere that you like." he hums, sighing.

"angel?" he asks softly, leaning in and kissing your neck, maybe that would at least earn some leaning back. your resistance...

none.

"talk to me for fucks sake!" suguru snarls, glaring hard at you. you don't even flinch at that, contrary to your earlier flinching and tweaking. a sigh escapes him and then comes bubbling tears. he has truly fucked you up. the haunting realization finally hits him. he can't live with it anymore... it's choking the very fiber of his being.

the rest of the shower passes by in a haze, and suguru is quiet, tears dripping from his face. "what should i do so that you become normal again?" he asks again, pouting and begging with his eyes. no response...

he gets up after tucking you in bed. the dark circles in your eyes are an explicit example of how less you're sleeping. sometimes you wake up with irritating nightmares, screaming and crying. that's the only moment when satoru and suguru are welcomed by your affections.

suguru sighs, he needs to win you this time. or maybe... what's that called? stockholm syndrome?

or maybe, he needs to discuss with satoru about erasing your memory...

or maybe, he needs a curse that can shove your memory off and then they can date you.. from scratch...

either way, they're not leaving you. anytime soon.

[johnbrand]

Pump and Jump

“Devin, what are you doing here?”

I had not expected anyone to be in my apartment when I got home from work, least of all my sister’s muscular douchebag of a boyfriend. In public, he was always popular to be around. Sociable and knowing exactly what to say and how to act, perfectly aligned with modern male beauty standards and a strong, commanding personality. Everyone treated him like a king, yet I was the one he proceeded to yank around like a subject. Because I was not at the same level of traditional masculinity, I had immediately been deemed as inferior.

“Your twat sister and I had a fight,” Devin replied, the slur came out naturally.

“How did you even get in?” I persisted. “I lock my doors.”

Unbothered, Devin continued scrolling on his phone. “I took your sister’s key.”

I was dumbfounded at Devin’s actions, but was too tired to fully deal with them. I tossed my backpack to the side and moved to the kitchen, my starchy suit itching against my skin with every step. But changing clothes were going to be dealt with after I fixed up something to eat.

“As long as you're in there, why don't you grab me a drink?” Devin’s voice was loud and clear. “A snack would be great too, I could polish off a bag of chips.”

I gulp, pausing for a moment. Instead of preparing anything for myself, I reenter the living room with an ice-cold beer and a few eating options. Devin does not react to my actions at all, simply opening the can and then munching on the first bag of snacks. I could already smell his natural musk, a mix of pungent body odor loosely covered by a cheap spray-on deodorant.

Assuming Devin was satisfied, I turned back to the kitchen to finally help myself.

“Where are you going, buddy?” Devin stopped me. “How about you give me a foot massage while I eat? These puppies are sore from having to haul everything over.”

Haul everything over? I thought. Kneeling in front of the table, I turned my head to sneak a peek of my bedroom. All across the small space were Devin’s belongings; boxes and bags and scattered objects filling my once pristine sanctuary. I was furious, but the potent funk coming from Devin’s feet beside my face nauseating me to the point that making an argument seemed futile. Tentatively, I placed my fingers against the wide, meaty soles. Devin grunted softly as I began to make slow circles.

It was hard to describe, but there was something so captivating about the texture of Devin’s feet. They were soft and stiff at the same time, their flesh both malleable and muscular. I could not help but feel my mind wander as I continued to work at his feet, puzzling over just how large they were. Size 13, Size 14…could they even be Size 15? Devin’s foot funk was so sharp, so pungent, so much that before I knew it the sun had already gone down. 

“Hey Devin, I think I’m gonna head to bed now,” I stated, removing my hands from his feet. Yet I could not deny the strange urge to place them back.

Devin, unphased, continued scrolling through the device in his hand. It took me a few moments to register that it was mine. I immediately commented on it. “You don’t remember?” Devin replied. “I asked for it when my phone died, and you handed it over with no argument. You even volunteered to remove the PIN so I would have access to it in the future.”

Was that true? I tried to open my phone to check, but for some reason my old password was not accepted.

“Oh yeah, I decided it would just be safer if I changed it all together,” Devin nonchalantly addressed. He stood up and stretched, his towering height and size engulfing my own and my possible protests. “Alright, I’m gonna head to bed, good night roomie.” In a mixture of shock and awe, my eyes followed as Devin proceeded to my his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

After just a few days, I quickly became accustomed to not only Devin, but in addition his needs. It was funny how the more time I spent with him, the more it felt right for him to treat me as his inferior. The apartment quickly became Devin’s, and my sole responsibility was to maintain it. Overtime, I was conditioned into faggotry, taught about the hierarchy and where I belonged in it. Which obviously–and what I would soon come to learn, rightfully–was below Devin.

In the end, Devin and my sister inevitably broke up. Eventually I learned it was because he had lied about wearing a condom. Through manipulation, and his massive cock, Devin had bred my sister thoroughly, apparent shooting straight into her womb. Being in a red state, abortion was not an option, but Devin had no plans on fathering his child. Since then, my sister had lamented about his abrupt “disappearance," having no idea he had been living with me since the initial fight. She would never know that she was just one of many women Devin had successfully “pumped and jumped” as he called it; my nephew would arrive with an abundance of half brothers and sisters.

[avocado-writing]

omg… could we get an astarion x reader where the reader is gale’s apprentice? she’s extremely studious and focused on her learning of magic (as gale teaches her to be) and because gale took her on as a young girl she’s never had her first kiss (much less her first time) bc she’s been so focused on her academics… mwahahahahah 😈

notes: reader’s gender isn’t mentioned, but Astarion does call you “little”! (Edit; part 2)

rating: M

words: 1.8k

pairing: astarion x reader

Taglist: bg3 Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 (let me know if you want to be added!)

“We hope to see you soon!” calls the cashier from behind the desk, waving amicably as you leave with your arms laden with scrolls and books. You manage a smile over your shoulder, no hand free to return the kind gesture.

“I’m sure you will!” you reply. This is true. Gale has probably spent a small fortune at Sorcerous Sundries, and - with the amount of time he’s been spending with Tav recently - supply runs have fallen to you. Not that you particularly mind. It’s nice to get into the city and get away from your mentor and the de facto leader of your group making heart eyes at each other from across the camp. It’s wonderful that he’s found someone (gods know that he deserves it after all that Mystra business) but he doesn’t have to be so bloody nauseating about it.

You wait for a cart to pass, readjust your hold on the pile, and head across the road. You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear your name being called for a second and barrel on ahead - it’s only when you become aware of footsteps approaching that you turn.

Astarion isn’t jogging to catch you, exactly. He’s far too precious for that. But he has increased his speed to close the gap, that little smile on his face which you know can only spell trouble.

“Well, fancy running into you, my dear. Isn’t chance a fine thing?” he purrs. You raise an eyebrow.

“What, you fortuitously meeting me at the only store I ever seem to go to?”

He doesn't reply to that, instead putting a hand on his hip and cocking his head.

“It can be dangerous for a little thing like you to walk around a big city alone. Never know who might take advantage.”

He flashes his fangs with his smile, and you swear your cheeks don’t start to burn.

“I know the route back to camp perfectly well…”

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I join you then? Let me help with those books, they seem to be rather precariously perched.”

You take a moment to look him over. He’s got muscle, of course, you’ve seen him with his shirt off at camp, but you’re certain it’s all for show – you are definitely stronger than he is. Being Gale’s glorified pack mule means you have to be. But, suppressing a smile, you press half of your haul into the elf’s waiting arms and chuckle when he stumbles under the unexpected weight.

“You could suggest to your mentor that he gets into a little more light reading,” he mutters, and that makes you laugh properly. He seems pleased with himself for that. Well, more pleased with himself than he usually is, anyway - so you find yourself walking through the city streets with his company. 

And it’s… nice. You’ve never been sure what to make of Astarion. He’s a bit too cunning for your usual taste in companion, but there can be no doubt that he’s competent. He travels the city streets with a familiar ease, and when he goes to turn down an alleyway mid-conversation, you almost follow him without thinking.

Almost.

“The thing is I’m sure he eats them, but – what are you doing back there? Keep up, I won’t wait for you,” he says, waiting for you. You shuffle awkwardly, and he reads your face without you having to say a word.

“Come now, I’m not going to bite you. Not unless you want me to,” there’s that damned grin again. You harrumph, knowing full well that’s exactly why you hesitated, but not wanting to show weakness in front of him. Nothing that he can use against you. You scuttle along until you make up the distance, and fall back in step.

Soon it’s just the two of you. The city noise dies down and the sound of your boots echoes in tandem with his. He has you completely alone. He could do whatever he wanted with you. You know he wouldn’t, of course, but… you’d be lying if you said the idea didn’t thrill you, just a tiny bit.

Astarion lets out a laugh.

“Your blood’s started pumping faster. Tell me, little mage, is something making your heart pound?”

Oh, right. Vampire. The bastard is uncannily attuned to these things.

“No!” you say, quickly, but there’s not much fire behind it, no real sincerity. His lip quirks. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, you know. It’s alright to feel desire. Gale doesn’t seem to take very good care of you, after all…”

That makes you stick your tongue out and gag. You totally ignore the first part of that sentence and spit:

“Eurgh, Gale? Absolutely not! He’s like my brother. We’ve known each other since… well, for as long as I can remember, honestly,” you say. And it’s true. You love him, of course, but not like that. Maybe you’re a bit jealous of Tav but only because they’re taking up so much of his time. You’re desperate to have another magic lesson. It feels like it’s been ages since he’s taught you anything, and you’ve been somewhat demoted to his personal assistant rather than his student. You can’t be too upset, though. He does have that tadpole in his head, so things are probably a lot more pressing to him than teaching you how to properly refine your Fireball spell. 

Astarion sees how introspective you’ve become. You have a habit of chewing on your lip when you’re lost in thought, and he’s become quite partial to it. It’s… sweet. Secretly he’s become quite partial to you. You’re endearing, bullheadedly stubborn, but sincere and enthusiastic. A bright spark in a dark world and he is drawn to you, whether he wants to be or not. 

He’s harbouring something for you, and doesn’t quite want to admit what that might be. So he teases. 

“You really do take up all of your time with studying, don’t you?”

You shrug as much as you can beneath your armful of books. 

“Wouldn’t you, if you had the best tutor around? Wouldn’t you want to learn every single thing you possibly could?”

“All that time squirrelled away over a spell book. I wonder if you’ve ever even been kissed.”

You stop dead. Ah, he thinks. Got you. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you snap, but you know your voice wobbles a little. A bit of a sore spot if you’re honest. Seeing Gale and Tav has made you realise that, actually, maybe there is something you long for. Something more. 

“Ahh, so you haven’t. There’s no shame in that, little mage.”

Your cheeks are burning. You can’t look him in the eye. Thank the gods the two of you are alone, you wouldn’t want anyone to see you so flabbergasted. 

“I’m… you’re…” you struggle to find words to adequately express how you feel. Furious. Embarrassed? A whole tide of things all at once, rooting you to the ground. 

He walks closer. If he was living, you’d be able to feel the heat coming off of him. He puts his pile of books on the top of a part-built wall, then takes yours to do the same. You don’t resist. 

“Would you like to be kissed?”

You manage to drag your eyes up from the ground to meet his gaze, searching it for any hint of insincerity. He is teasing you, a bit, but… his eyes are surprisingly soft. 

He means it. 

And before you can think it over, you nod. 

His lips are soft. Far softer than you expected for a vampire. His kiss gently presses your mouth open, allowing for a lithe and curious swipe of his tongue. You eagerly accept it, voice catching in your throat a little in a half-rendered moan. 

He tastes like mint. It’s fresh. It’s sweet. 

You want more. 

Carefully you put a hand on either one of his biceps, a gentle test of the muscle there. It might be only for show, but it’s firm enough for you to enjoy how it feels in your grip. You sense him smile against your mouth and deepen the kiss, running his fingers up the length of your arm until he can cup your face; grip the back of your head.

When he walks you back to press up against the alleyway wall, you trust him; and when he hooks your collar down with a single long finger, exposing your neck, that half-moan comes back with full force. 

“That’s it,” he sighs, feather-light, “let me hear you, you sweet thing.”

His mouth leaves yours in order to kiss a long line down your jugular. His teeth ghost the skin there, but he never threatens to bite. 

Not unless you want me to. 

You find yourself trusting him absolutely. His tongue flicks against your pulse and you thrust your hips forward inadvertently. It’s an impulse. An instinct. But it has an impact, and you hear Astarion catch his breath just a bit. 

“Where have you been hiding all this?” he asks, gravel filling his voice as you thread your fingers into his hair. 

“Maybe you never gave me a reason to show it to you.”

He seems to like that answer, so when he slips his leg between yours, presses his thigh up to your sex… gods, you start to rock against him without a second thought. 

It’s good. It feels good. Good in a way only your own hands have ever made you feel, late at night, beneath your bedroll with fucking Astarion, Astarion, Astarion running through your head. 

“Look at you. All desperate for me. What do you want me to do, little mage? Where do you want me to touch?”

You take his hand and guide it down your body, yes gods yes to the apex of your legs, and —

Greetings! Hope I’m not catching you at a bad moment, but need those books at camp ASAP. Do let me know when you’ll be back!

Gale’s Sending is like a cold bucket of ice through your body, and you freeze under Astarion’s ministrations. The moment is utterly shattered. A hand on his chest moves him away and he acquiesces, confused but not pushing back. 

“Hello Gale,” you sigh out loud, letting the elf know the reason for the interruption. “Will be back as soon as possible. Not too far from the camp now. Sorry for the delay. Got a little… held up.”

And then you’re just standing there. In an alley. With Astarion. And you feel very silly all of a sudden, very small. Once again your eyes drop to the floor and you start grabbing the books, quickly, anything to distract you from how humiliated you feel. You’re not sure if it’s because you let yourself give into him so easily or if it’s because you didn’t want him to stop — and you’re a bit terrified at how far you’d have let him go. 

“I’ll see you at camp,” you manage to stutter out, before practically running away. 

Astarion watches you go. Your departure stings. 

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 16: You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do

You and Joel look for Anna and find a new balance in your relationship. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 15, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Discussion of drug use and addiction. Mention of parent death Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” 

You kept your voice low, watching as Joel swayed slowly with Ellie cradled in his arms. 

“She’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “C’mon. Would I do anything that would put this sweet little thing in harm’s way?” 

You sighed, Joel already ignoring you in favor of your niece. Not that you could blame him. In the two months that you’d been basically living with Joel, Ellie had blossomed. She still had her crying jags and was far from an easy baby - from what you could tell, anyway. But she was eating steadily now that you’d found a formula that didn’t upset her stomach so much and sleeping for three hours at a time overnight. She’d gone from being underweight to having charming rolls of baby fat on her arms and legs and she had this tendency to watch whoever was holding her with an intensity that felt uncommon for a baby. You were sure you were biased but you were certain that she was the smartest baby you’d ever seen. Her gaze was keen as she took everything in, her eyes shifting to a deep, rich chocolate brown and it was hard to not just look at her all the time. 

“I’d never let anything happen to you, would I?” Joel said to Ellie, his voice high pitched and lilting. “No I wouldn’t! Uncle Joel loves you so much, yes he does!” 

You smiled a little, letting yourself enjoy the sight of your best friend holding the baby who had become the most important person in the world before looking back in the direction of the kitchen where you knew Tommy was putting a mountain of junk food into the fridge and freezer. 

“Really, Goldie, it’s fine,” Joel said in his more typical baritone. “Tommy watched Sarah for me all the time when she was a baby, he’s actually great with kids, even tiny ones. She’ll be just fine for a night, I promise. We gotta do this.” 

You sighed and then nodded.

“Right,” you said. “You’re right, we do.” 

You held your arms out and Joel passed you Ellie before his lips brushed your temple, a motion that had become so commonplace over the last few weeks. You glanced at him quickly, eyes darting, as he pulled away from you and he flinched a little before grabbing your overnight bags and heading for the living room. 

That was a commonplace occurrence, too. The flinching when he touched you in some intimate, familiar way that seemed to go beyond the bounds of your previous relationship. 

You weren’t sure why he kept doing it. Kissing you, putting his hand on the small of your back when you were near, nuzzling into your hair. He always flinched some after, like these little sparks of closeness were nauseating. You had your theories as to why, of course. He’d told you little of Sarah’s mother but it sounded like she had been around for at least the early days of her daughter’s life. Maybe he was used to these tiny intimacies with a woman he was raising a child alongside, maybe the only way he was used to passing off a baby came with a gentle brush of his lips on skin. Or maybe he thought you needed it, that you were still so fragile even months after you’d shown up on his doorstep with a screaming infant and feeling like you were going to lose yourself if you weren’t careful that he needed to do things like touch you to keep you sane. 

But you wished he’d just stop. It didn’t help when you knew how much he apparently loathed it, it just stung. Even tempering it with the knowledge that he apparently cared enough for you to tolerate something he so clearly didn’t enjoy because he thought it was what you needed, it hurt. 

You and Joel had struck a delicate - if largely unspoken - balance since that first night. You’d all but moved in, Joel giving you two drawers and a corner of his closet, and you’d put a small bassinet in his room. The two of you took shifts overnight, switching out looking after Ellie when she stirred. Since UT’s school year ended a full month before Sarah’s did, you took over making breakfast and getting her out the door in the morning until she was on summer vacation and - now that summer break was in full swing - you watched her and you took care of Ellie while Joel was at work during the day. For all intents and purposes, you functioned like a couple. In all ways except one: you didn’t have sex again. 

You should probably be thankful for that, you knew. It wasn’t like you’d ever say no to him if he’d offered. Even if it destroyed you, you’d always fold the moment he touched you like he wanted you at all. The fact that it hadn’t happened since was a blessing. 

You tried to remind yourself of that when you were lying next to him at night and he didn’t touch you that way. Not that you expected him to at all, especially not with Ellie in the room but still. You wanted it. Longed for it. Ached for it, taking full advantage of what little privacy you got when in the shower or when Sarah was at a friend’s house and Ellie was down for a nap to fuck yourself hard and fast until you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning your best friend’s name. 

Because it was always Joel you thought of now. He was burned into you that way. The first time you’d ever touched yourself had been to the thought of Joel, back before you knew what kissing him and taking him into yourself would be. It had been a losing battle since you’d moved back to Texas, the proximity bringing him to mind so much faster now. Once you’d started dating Stephen, it felt almost like cheating when you made yourself come to the thought of someone else, even though you’d never talked about being exclusive in any sense, let alone in the world of fantasy. Still, you came hard to the thought of your best friend and dealt with the twinge of guilt after. You’d just hoped you’d be able to set this obsession down if you became serious about someone. 

The aftermath of sleeping with Joel again had proved, though, that you were going to be stuck here, feeling like this, for what seemed like forever. You cut things off with Stephen then, using Anna’s vanishing as an excuse to end things. Really, it was just because you couldn’t stomach pretending like it could go anywhere, like you wouldn’t spend your entire relationship wishing he was someone else. 

Since then, you’d thrown yourself into anything - everything - else you could use to distract yourself. Beyond caring for Ellie and Sarah, you’d made some progress on your next book, shifting the story to be about a family more than a romantic relationship. You’d helped Joel with a business plan for Miller Construction, the contracting company he was hoping to start. But, most importantly, you’d gotten some idea about where Anna might be. 

She was, at least, still alive. You’d been able to track down contact information for her sponsor after meeting her once and hearing Anna mention her first name a few times. Marlene had been reluctant to tell you much at all but did at least tell you that she was checking in with Anna daily. She seemed sober, apparently, and Marlene was encouraging her to seek some help but she hadn’t had any luck yet. 

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” she’d sighed when you called a few days earlier. “But she mentioned her ex today. I think she might be with him.” 

You’d all but flown into a panic at that, fighting to hold it together as you watched Sarah swim and you held Ellie carefully while you sat on the steps in the shallow end of the pool. Josh Williams was the worst possible fucking influence your sister could have. He’s who got her into drugs in the first place, their love affair had been a whirlwind even in the best of times. What would being around him do to her now, when she was cracking under the weight of motherhood and what you were certain was postpartum depression? 

“Goldie, take a breath,” Joel said that night after Sarah was in bed and he’d plied you with a margarita. “Here, gimme…” He held his hands out and you passed him the baby and he beamed at her for a moment, making her giggle, before he turned his attention back to you. “Drink more. Let’s think on it. When things went real bad for her, was she with Josh or was she on her own?” 

You sighed and took a sip of margarita. 

“On her own,” you said. “She definitely got into trouble with Josh but… he didn’t hurt her. Well, not like that.” 

“So she’s probably safe,” Joel said gently. “That’s good, that’s the important thing right now, right?” 

“Right,” you nodded and sighed again. “Jesus… So what do we do?” 

“Well,” Joel shifted Ellie and she cooed at him before he cooed back as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Lemme just…” He typed something in, pressing a kiss to little Ellie’s cheek as he did. “Alright, looks like that band of his is on tour and they’ll be in Dallas in a few days. We can go, talk to him, see if he knows where she is.” 

You nodded slowly, taking another drink. 

“If I can talk to her, I can see if I can get her to get some help,” you said. “Or at least come home… Even if we still keep Ellie for a while, if she was at least home…” 

“It’s progress, Goldie Girl,” Joel said gently, putting his phone back in his pocket and shifting Ellie again. “It’s a good thing. It is.” 

You drank a few margaritas there on his couch, watching Joel with Ellie. He seemed enraptured with her, making faces to pull little gummy smiles out of her chubby features and peppering her with kisses before coaxing her to sleep on his chest. 

“C’mon,” he said quietly after a while. “Let’s get this one to bed and then get you to bed. You need it.” 

That night was the closest the two of you came to fucking again. You were tipsy enough that Joel had to help keep you from stumbling between the bathroom and the bed, Ellie sleeping soundly in her crib as she had been the last few nights, the distance from her still oddly foreign to you. 

“Careful there,” he caught you. “How many’d you have?” 

“Enough, apparently,” you tried not to laugh, worried you’d wake up the baby. 

“I’ll say,” he said, walking you to the bed and lowering you to the mattress. “Alright, legs in baby.” 

You obeyed and he tucked the sheets around you before turning out the light and climbing into bed beside you. You rolled onto your side and nuzzled against him before he’d even gotten settled, making him laugh. 

“Forgot what a touchy feely drunk you are,” he teased. 

“Shut up,” you said, pressing yourself closer to him all the same. He laughed and then the two of you fit yourselves against each other, your body curving around his. 

“Know it’s not the best circumstances,” he said quietly after a minute. “But… I’m glad you’re here. That you’re not tryin’ to do this shit alone.” 

“Me too,” you said, moving somehow closer to him. His hold on you tightened, his nose nuzzling into your hair. Your lips ghosted over the warm skin of his throat. He groaned a little and your leg hitched over his thigh. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you ground your hips against him.

“Goldie,” he said, a little breathless, pulling back from you enough to look you in the eye. “We… we shouldn’t…” 

You groaned in a way that was closer to a whine and his forehead dropped to yours. 

“You’re drunk,” he whispered. 

“Not that drunk,” you whispered back. 

“Drunk enough,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “This… you still want this in the morning? We can talk about it. Or just forget about it. Whatever you want, but we can’t right now.” 

You fell asleep before too long, feeling achy and needy as you did, and woke up still in Joel’s arms with dawn slipping through the slats of his blinds. Joel was already awake, his large palm resting on the crown of your head, his thumb brushing a gentle trail over your forehead. You looked at him for a moment, memorizing the planes of his face, the scruff on his cheeks, the way his hair was mussed first thing in the morning. 

“She still asleep?” You asked quietly, eventually. 

“Yeah,” he said, just as quiet. “Don’t know that she’s ever slept this late but checked the monitor a little while ago, she’s still breathin’…” 

“That’s good,” you smiled a little. Your stomachs were pressed together, your t-shirt had ridden up in the night so your skin was against his and he was so warm, the heat of him seeping out and spreading over you. 

“Goldie…” he whispered, his face drawn and so close to yours and your heart lurched in your chest. “I can’t…” 

Ellie’s sharp little cry made you both jump, like you’d forgotten for a moment about the little life in the next room that was completely dependent on the two of you. 

“I got ‘er,” Joel said, quickly pulling himself from you and all but running to Ellie’s room. 

The two of you didn’t talk about it again. 

You carried Ellie to the kitchen, Sarah perched on a counter as Tommy made a huge plate of nachos. 

“And we can watch movies and stay up late and…” 

“Just because I’m gonna be out of town for a night don’t mean that all the rules are out the window, baby girl,” Joel said, a small smile on his face all the same. 

“Hey,” Tommy said. “How late she stays up and what junk food we eat while she does it is none of your concern when you ain’t here, old man.”

“Yeah Dad,” Sarah smirked, leaning over and swiping a chip from Tommy’s plate. “You leave Uncle Tommy in charge? You get what you get.” 

“Lord,” Joel sighed, still smiling. “Such a bad influence on my kid…” 

“S’why you love me,” Tommy smirked before winking at you. “Alright, let me see the tiny one, c’mon.” 

You gave Ellie a kiss on her chubby cheek before passing her off to Tommy and he beamed at her. 

“There’s the cutest baby in the world,” he held her with his large hands around her waist, lifting her to blow a raspberry as best he could on her onesie covered stomach. Ellie giggled and he held her to his chest. “There, now I got the important stuff all set. You two get out of here, try to have fun…” 

“Not goin’ for fun,” Joel said, almost like a reprimand. 

“I know,” Tommy said, still calm. “But still. You two have had your hands full lately. Have a damn drink at least.” 

You stepped in before Joel had a chance to try to pick a fight with his brother. 

“You know how to hold her when she has her bottle?” You asked. “And where the extra diapers are in case the ones in the changing table drawers run out? And…” 

“I got ‘er,” Tommy said gently. “And I got your numbers if I need ‘em. Which I won’t.” 

You nodded, not fully able to shake the knot that had settled in your stomach at the thought of leaving Ellie with anyone but yourself or Joel. At the thought of being alone with Joel, no buffer of Ellie or Sarah that had been there ever since you’d slept together again. 

“Thank you for doin’ this,” Joel said earnestly. “It means a lot.” 

“One day, I’ll have kids and I’ll need you to watch ‘em when I want to get my girl out of town,” Tommy said. “Better believe I’m cashing in.” 

You and Joel stopped at a gas station on the way out of town, filling up your car and grabbing snacks from the convenience store and delaying the inevitable awkward silence when the two of you were alone with nothing else to distract you. 

It felt like the two of you were halfway to fucking Waco when Joel finally spoke. 

“You think she’ll be there?” He asked. 

You sighed. 

“I don’t know. I hope so, I hope we can get to her and that she’ll listen and…” 

You ground your teeth for a moment before looking over to him. Joel was driving - it never mattered that it was your car, Joel always drove, it had been like that even when you were teenagers - and there was something so reassuring about him being behind the wheel. 

“Is this stupid?” You asked. “Am I going about this the wrong way?” 

He glanced over to you, looking you up and down before turning his eyes back to the road. 

“I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to do this,” he said after a moment. “It’s… it’s a shit situation. I just don’t want you gettin’ your hopes up too much is all.” 

“They’re not,” you said quickly. “God, even if she is there, it’s still going to be a fucking mess…” 

“It is,” Joel said. “But you’ll help her through it. You’re real good at that shit.” 

You scoffed. 

“What?” He said. “You are. You’ve been doin’ a great job, Goldie girl. That’s not going to change because Anna actually comes back - or doesn’t.” 

You nodded slowly, looking out the window again, trying not to think about whether you were more afraid that Anna would be at the concert tonight or that she wouldn’t be. 

“Think you’re ready to throw a pool party for a bunch of preteen girls?” You asked, giving him a little smile. 

“Lord,” he laughed once. “No. But thanks for helpin’ plan it all the same. Sarah’s so damn excited, rivals the fuckin’ concert…” 

“Your list is coming along,” you smiled a little wider him.

“Speaking of our lists,” he teased, glancing your way. “How’s that book of yours comin’ along?” 

“Good, shockingly enough,” you said. “You’re in this one, too. Well, kind of you, it’s not like I named the character Joel but…” 

“I am?” He asked, brows raised. You nodded and then he frowned. “Wait, too? What do you mean, too?” 

Your face fell before you could stop it, your eyes going wide. 

“Goldie,” he said, glancing toward you. “What’d you mean, too? Was I in your first book?” 

“OK, don’t start that,” you said. “Come on, I… Look, alright? My first book was more of a coming of age thing and you were my best friend so… yeah, OK, you might have influenced a character a little. Just a bit. That’s all, it’s nothing crazy…” 

Your heart was racing but Joel just smiled, broad enough that it made the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

“Didn’t know I meant so much to you, Goldie Girl,” he teased. 

“Don’t read into it,” you rolled your eyes. “Literally, please don’t read it…” 

“Pretty sure it’s above my reading level, anyway,” he winked.

You glared at him. 

“I hate you,” you said. 

“I know,” he smiled, glancing over at you. “S’why we get along so well.” 

The two of you fell into your usual, comfortable familiarity after that, joking and laughing and singing along to the songs from the playlist Joel made for the drive, you trying to forget about the fact that you were only making this drive to try to save your sister from herself. 

The room Joel had booked for you this time was not nearly as nice as the one from the Taylor Swift weekend - not that you were arguing. Putting the two of you in one hotel room right now felt like tempting fate as it was, let alone one that could be mistaken for romantic. But still, you were disappointed when he opened the motel door to a room with two queen sized beds instead of just one king. 

“Figured you could use some space from me since we don’t gotta listen to a baby monitor all night,” Joel said, carrying the bags in. He dropped your duffle on the bed furthest from the door and checked his watch. “Should probably head out in about an hour if you want to get something to eat first…” 

You nodded, fidgeting with your necklace, feeling Joel’s eyes on you. 

“Well,” Joel said, his voice a little awkward. “Think I’ll… I’ll just… take a nap. Keep my eyes closed. So you can get changed and shit if you need.” 

“Right,” you smiled tightly. “Thanks.” 

“Yup,” he said, lying flat on his back on his bed, his forearm over his eyes as you started going through your bag. 

You checked in with Tommy, already missing Ellie, before you got changed into something that was good for a rock concert. Well, you thought it was, anyway - this was always your sister’s territory - and did your hair and makeup so that you had a shot of trying to talk your way backstage to talk to Josh. Hopefully. Maybe. 

When you gently shook Joel awake he stared at you for a moment, blinking with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite place. 

“You really passed out,” you teased, fighting that awkward feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

“Yeah,” he shook his head quickly, like he was shaking off the sleep. “Guess so. C’mon Goldie, let’s go see if we can find Anna.”

***

There had to be more Joel could be doing to help you. He was sure there was something he was fucking missing because there had to be something he could do beyond twiddling his fucking thumbs, waiting in line to get into a small concert venue in Dallas on a Saturday night. 

You were twisting your hands around on themselves, lower lip between your teeth as you tried to peer around the line as though you’d have any chance of seeing any of the bands right now. 

“Is this dumb?” You asked eventually, looking at Joel with wide eyes. “I’m worried this is a stupid fucking idea…” 

“How else were you gonna get ahold of the guy?” He asked gently. “You didn’t have his number, it’s not like you can find him in the damn phonebook. You came to him. It’s what you had to do. You have to try, right?” 

You took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. 

“Right,” you said. “You’re right.” 

The words didn’t match your expression, still worrying your lip between your teeth, still knotting your fingers and Joel wondered yet again what the fuck he was missing. It had to be something, there had to be something he could do to make your life easier because, fuck, why was he even here if he couldn’t?

Ever since you’d all but moved into his house, you’d done nothing but improve his life. Sure, you came with an infant and she was nothing if not a challenge but Joel liked having another kid around to take care of. Thrived on it, really. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed Sarah’s newborn days until he was faced with Ellie’s. 

Joel had been so alone then, drowning in the state of his life, in his new identity as Sarah’s father, in the weight of the future heavy in his hands whenever he held his baby girl. It had been hard to really enjoy that time. He knew he’d want to remember it, the way her little legs tucked up into her stomach and the way her nose scrunched when she first woke up - something she still did now if he woke her up abruptly from a deep enough sleep - but it had been a conscious thing. Remember it because he should, because he knew he’d want to keep these parts of his daughter close, not because it came naturally. 

He wondered, sometimes, in hindsight, if there was something wrong with him for that. If he wasn’t a good enough father because his mind had been elsewhere in his daughter’s earliest days, if some vital piece of him was broken because he hadn’t taken naturally to that part of fatherhood even though he loved her more than he realized any human being could love another. 

With Ellie, though, he knew he wasn’t broken. He’d just been so overwhelmed by everything else that the best parts of fatherhood hadn’t found their way to him yet. Now, though, it seemed like he had everything he needed. There was Sarah, you, a new little life that needed care and guidance and love. He felt like he had purpose and so much of that was thanks to you. 

And of course, once you came into yourself again with Ellie, you’d started doing what you always did: make things better. Of course, you just being there would have made things better. But you stepped right into loving his daughter like she was your own. He’d come home from a job site and find you in the yard with the girls, a makeshift soccer goal set up, Ellie in her bouncer in the shade, you in the goal to give Sarah a chance to practice shooting. 

“Dad, look!” She’d yell before Joel even got the door all the way open on the truck. 

“I’m watchin’,” he’d smile and look over her head to you and you’d give him a wink. And he did watch as Sarah dribbled the ball toward you and faked out her kick, making you go one way while the ball went the other. 

“See?” She beamed, her smile huge. “I’m going to score so many goals next season!” 

“You really are,” he kissed her forehead. “Great job, baby girl!” 

You helped him with his business plan. You gave him an audience while he practiced playing guitar with a plan to go talk to Jimmy and see if he’d let him play at the bar again, like he did when he was young. You’d kick him playfully as the two of you sat on opposite ends of the couch with your legs overlapping his in the middle, just like you had when you were kids. You made him dinner and made him laugh and made him want to kiss you so bad he wondered if it was possible to explode with wanting. 

You did so much for him. Why couldn’t he figure out a goddamn way to give it back to you? 

The venue finally opened and you laced your fingers with Joel’s as you worked your way through the press of people, trying to make it close to the stage. 

“This is so weird,” you said, looking back over your shoulder to Joel, standing at your back. “What do we do? Dance? Pretend this is a regular concert? Do we get a beer?” 

“If you want a beer, Goldie, I’ll get you one,” Joel smiled a little. “I think it’s fine if we just stand here until they come on and try and get his attention when they do. But… well, if you feel like you can have a good time, I think you should.” 

Your face pinched at that, like you thought maybe you shouldn’t even consider something as insignificant as your own happiness. 

“Think this’ll be easier with a drink,” he said, making an executive decision. Maybe having fun when trying to track down your sister when she was fuck knows where and left you with her infant daughter was insane but fuck it, being miserable while doing it wasn’t making it any easier. “Be back.” 

You looked like you were about to protest but he slipped away from you and into the people starting to press into the pit, working his way against the flow of bodies to the bar. He got himself a whiskey soda and you a vodka sour because that’s what you’d get with your fake ID when the two of you would sneak into places like this when you were kids. He smiled a little, thinking about that as he went to find you again, how you’d pretended like it wasn’t really breaking the rules since you were just helping Joel do research for how to break into the music business. You’d smile at him, your eyes so bright from the stage lights and say “Someday, that’ll be you up there” and he thought - even then - that you might be the best thing he’d ever seen. 

Joel was working his way back through the crowd to you, living in that time long past for a moment, when he saw you toward the front of the pit. But he didn’t have a chance to really enjoy the sight of you all decked out in your concert clothes. Instead, there was a man next to you, his hand on the small of your back as you leaned away from him and Joel’s blood got hot. 

“…just for a little while,” the man was saying, trying to step closer to you. 

“No thanks,” you said, your tone sharp. 

“C’mon, we’ll get you a drink and…” 

“Hey,” Joel said, stopping right behind the man, crowding his space. The guy was tall but not as tall as Joel and he had to tilt his head back to look him in the face. “You botherin’ my girl?” 

The man’s eyes darted to you before going back to Joel. 

“She didn’t…” the man began before puffing himself up, straightening his spine as much as he could. But the top of his head still only reached Joel’s eyes and he quickly deflated. “Look man, all she had to do was say she had a boyfriend and I would’ve backed off, alright? Think your problem is with your girl…” 

“No,” Joel said, jaw tight. “My problem’s with you. Don’t matter if she’s got a boyfriend or not, she says she ain’t interested? She ain’t interested. Learn some fuckin’ respect. Or do you need me to teach you?” 

The man looked Joel up and down, like he was weighing his chances. Joel just stood his ground. He wasn’t about to let this asshole just touch you without permission. An excuse to hit him would be welcome. 

“Fuckin’ asshole,” the guy muttered, turning to go. Joel watched him leave before turning back to you and handing you your drink. 

“You alright?” He asked. 

“Fine,” you said, watching him closely. “Thank you for that. He just was not backing off. I forgot what it’s like to go to places like this and deal with guys like that…” 

“Shouldn’t have to deal with guys like that,” Joel said, clenching his jaw. “Fuckin’ asshole should know how to take a no. But probably shouldn’t leave you unattended again, apparently the second I walk away some jackass swoops in…” 

You laughed a little and rolled your eyes as the crowd started cheering and you turned to face the stage as the opener came out. Joel slipped his hand around your waist to your stomach, his fingers splaying wide over the satin fabric of your shirt and he wanted to touch the silk of your skin below and he tried not to think about that. He tugged you back against him and you frowned, looking over your shoulder to him. 

“To be safe,” he said in your ear. “Keep other assholes’ hands off ya.” 

You smiled a little and Joel held you close as the first two bands played, your back pressed tightly against his front. The more of your cocktail you drank, the more you moved almost absently to the music and Joel had to focus to not get lost in you. 

It was easier to remember exactly what the two of you were doing here when the headlining band - Josh’s band - took the stage. The crowd became deafening when they came out and you grabbed Joel’s arm when the guitarist jogged to his place under the lights. 

“That’s Josh!” You yelled over your shoulder to Joel. 

He evaluated the man quickly. Your brother-in-law was on the other side of the stage, stocky and shorter than Joel’d expected him to be, in ripped jeans and a tight gray t-shirt, a guitar strapped across his body. He lifted the neck of it and played the first chord, the lead singer running out and taking the mic. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, keeping his grip on you and trying to guide you through the crush of people toward the other side of the stage, hoping that Josh would see you and recognize you in the crowd. “Try and get closer.” 

It took some time, a few songs passing before the two of you could make it over there and even then, getting to the very front of the pit was basically impossible, fans pressed tight to the barricades and reaching for the band. 

Still, it didn’t stop you from trying to get his attention, your arms up over your head and screaming his name. When he thought the set might be winding down and Josh still hadn’t acknowledged you, Joel started looking for where to take you to try to get back stage and, when the band left the stage and you deflated, he took your hand. 

“C’mon,” he said. “Think we can try and get to ‘em this way…” 

He tugged you along behind him, keeping a tight hold on you as he led you to a side door. He jiggled the handle but it was locked. 

“Shit,” you swore, looking back to where people were leaving. 

“Any security?” Joel asked, voice low. 

You frowned and looked around for a moment. 

“No, but…” 

He grimaced but forced the handle down with all his weight, the old lock popping. 

“Did you just break the door?” You asked quietly, brows raised. 

Joel shrugged. 

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he said, ushering you through it and quickly pulling it shut behind him. 

“Now where?” You whispered it even though there was no one around to hear you. 

“Uh,” he looked around, trying to remember where he thought the green rooms would be as he looked down the hall. “This way, I think.” 

He led you down the cinderblock passage, things getting louder as he did - a good sign, he thought. And then, he turned a corner and walked smack into a security guard. 

“Sorry,” Joel said quickly, tucking you behind him and hoping the guy would forget it and move on. 

No such luck. 

“You two supposed to be back here?” The guard asked, looking you and Joel up and down. “Show me your passes.” 

“We don’t have any,” you said, stepping out from behind Joel before he could stop you. “But I’m trying to talk to Josh Williams from Shine Anthem, he’s my brother-in-law and…” 

“Don’t really give a shit who you say you are,” the guard said, reaching for Joel. “You can’t just come back here so I’m going to have to ask you to…” 

Joel was trying to figure out some kind of plan when he heard your name being called from behind you and then the man from the stage was there, running up and damn near tackling you, bending low to tuck his shoulder into your chest so he could lift you into a hug as you yelped. 

He put you down quickly, though, a broad smile on his face and a glassy look in his eyes. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” He beamed, looking you up and down. “Should’ve called! I’d have gotten you tickets and passes and shit instead of you hangin’ out out there with everyone else!” 

“Well, it’s not like I had your number,” you said, a little incredulous as Josh leaned around you to the guard. 

“They’re good,” Josh said to him. “This is my girl’s sister! She never fuckin’ visits, this is great!” 

You turned to Joel, a look of almost total disbelief on your face as Josh threw an arm around your shoulders and started guiding you down the hall. Joel just shrugged at the security guard and followed, you looking back over your shoulder to make sure he was still there. 

“She didn’t say anything about you coming, either,” he said, an almost odd familiarity to his tone. From what Joel knew, you’d only spent a little time with your sister’s husband, it wasn’t as though the two of you were close. “Could’ve called her, too! She can always get ahold of me, always answer the phone for that girl…” 

“Have you seen her?” You asked. “Because…” 

“Seen her?” He laughed. “She’s here! It’s like old times, s’been great! God I love that girl. She’s with the guys right now, nice to have her around again…” 

“She’s here?” You stopped and turned to stare at him. “Right now?” 

“Yeah!” He said brightly. “This is great, a regular family reunion! She’ll be so excited to see you, she’s always saying she wishes you’d come back home more. Who’s this guy, by the way? Not your husband, he’s that old dude, right?” 

“This is my friend Joel,” you said quickly before trying to refocus him. “Josh, I need to see Anna. Right now.” 

“Alright, alright,” he said, stopping outside a heavy metal door and turning to Joel. “You party? Because we can do shit up, I know this one’s not usually down but…” 

“We’re not here to fucking party, Josh!” You snapped. “I need to see Anna! Right now!” 

“OK!” He put his hands up and gave Joel a look as if to say ‘women, right?’ before opening the door. “She’s right here.”

The space was smaller than Joel had been expecting. Maybe he had idealized expectations for a rockstar’s green room since he’d once dreamed of being one but this one was small, with a few couches that were crowded with people, the air clouded with acrid smoke so thick he couldn’t help but cough. 

“Ahhh!” Anna threw her arms in the air in glee from the corner of one of the couches, where she was perched on the lap of some other band member. “My sister’s here! Look, guys, it’s my big sister!” 

Joel clenched his jaw and looked over to you, ready to help you if you needed it. The look on your face was hard for him to place, your expression so strangely foreign. Of all the faces Joel knew, he knew yours maybe best of all - Sarah the only exception. He knew how you looked when you were lost in thought, when you were about to cry, when you were coming, when you laughed so hard you cried. But you were so rarely angry that he didn’t recognize it, not at first. 

But your eyes narrowed and your hands curled into fists at your sides and for a moment, just a moment, Joel thought you were going to scream. 

But you didn’t. Instead, you steeled yourself and marched purposefully, forcefully, over to your sister. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You asked, standing over her. “This is what you’re doing? You’re here, partying with your ex-husband and the guys you used to fuck around with while I’m home with your daughter?” 

The room had gone silent, Anna staring up at you with wide eyes. 

“Daughter?” Josh said quietly and Joel looked over at him. He was staring at Anna in disbelief and disappointment. “Wait, you had a kid? When…” 

“You didn’t even tell him?” You scoffed at her. “Of course you wouldn’t, why would you? Why would you ever consider anyone but yourself in your decision making process? You never have before! Hell, you never even really think of yourself, do you? Not your future self, not the person you really need to be worried about because if you did, you wouldn’t be fucking high right now!” 

“I’m not high!” She got up quickly, stumbling a little as she did. 

“Bullshit you’re not high,” you snapped. “Look at you!” 

“I’m not…” She lowered her voice, as though that would make much difference in a room as quiet and small as this one. “It’s just some pot, OK? It’s not like…” 

“Oh, because you’re not snorting anything or injecting anything, it doesn’t count?” You asked, brows raised, incredulous. “Because this isn’t the first step to you ending up back in the hospital after you OD again or worse, just dead somewhere?” 

“You ODed?” Josh said weakly, going over to her, running his fingers through her hair. “Baby, you never told me this, why didn’t you tell me this?” 

“It was last year,” she said. “You were touring, it wasn’t that bad…” 

“She almost died,” you said to Josh. “And she had been sober until you came along, so congratulations on dragging her down yet again.” 

You turned your attention back to your sister. 

“Were you ever planning on coming home?” You asked. “Or were you going to just party like a goddamn teenager without a care in the world until you wound up dead?” 

Anna just stared down at her hands and you shook your head. 

“I should have fucking known.” 

You stalked off without another word, slamming the door behind you as you went. 

The room was awkwardly silent for a moment, Josh looking at Joel apologetically. 

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly, his eyes wide, all the casual familiarity gone. Instead, he was almost uncomfortably earnest and almost sad. “I never would have… I didn’t know.” 

Joel looked back toward the door for a moment before he sighed and looked at Josh again. 

“We’re here ’til the morning,” he said. “Gimme your phone.” 

Josh handed it over and Joel typed his number into a text message before sending himself a message that had the name and address of the hotel you were at with the room number. He gave the phone back before he turned to Anna. 

“She loves you,” Joel said. “And she loves Ellie. You should come home.” 

She sniffed but just turned her head, looking away from him. 

“Right,” Joel said. “Well… Should know Ellie misses you. And we’ll be at that hotel until 11 a.m. tomorrow.” 

He had to run to catch up with you, finding you standing outside with tears in your eyes as you paced. 

“Hey,” Joel said and you looked at him, quickly drying your eyes on the insides of your wrists. “You alright?” 

“No,” you sniffed. “No, I just fucked everything up, I shouldn’t have done that, who knows what…” 

“Hey,” Joel cut you off, pulling you into his chest. “S’OK.” 

“Easy for you to say,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt. 

He sighed, holding you for a moment, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Pick up some beer on the way.” 

You checked in with Tommy on the way and Joel tried to keep his distance from you once the two of you got back to the hotel room and you’d calmed down a little. He’d gotten the two damn beds for a reason and it wasn’t because he wanted to be apart from you. It was because he knew that things between the two of you had gotten too close since you’d shown up on his doorstep with Ellie in your arms. Even if the sex had never happened, it was too much like being with you, going through life with you the way he had been. It couldn’t continue, not without destroying him. 

So Joel stayed on his bed and you stayed on yours, a six pack on the night stand in the middle and he cursed the pretext of it. The space was smart, he knew that. But goddamn, couldn’t he just hold you as long as you’d let him? Couldn’t he just live in that liminal place for as long as he could manage it? Wouldn’t the damage be worth it in the end if he did? He didn’t know. He just stayed on his bed, finding some stupid action movie with a bad TV edit to put on, one where the dialogue choices were bad enough that you were laughing so hard that you spilled beer on your bedspread. 

“Oh shit,” you swore, putting the now nearly empty bottle on the nightstand and jumping up to run to the bathroom and grab towels. Joel joined you, mopping up the mess as best you could. “God, so much for having one night where I don’t end up covered in something. If it’s not spit-up at home it’s beer here…” 

“At least this didn’t end up in your hair,” Joel smiled a little and you laughed. 

“Yeah, thank god for small miracles. And at least it’s just my bed so you don’t have to deal with it, too.” 

“You don’t need to deal with it, either,” he said before he even thought about it. “You can just sleep in my bed.”

Not that he really needed to think about it. 

“You don’t need to do that,” you waved him off. “I’ve already taken over half your bed at home, you deserve your space. I’ll be fine sleeping in spilled beer for a night.” 

“Goldie, c’mon,” he said, realizing just how close he was standing to you. How easy it would be to kiss you. “This ain’t some frat house, not about to just make you sleep in that shit.” 

You bit your lower lip, uncertain, and he had to fight the urge to tug that soft flesh from between your teeth. He wanted to bite that lip, kiss it, run his thumb over it. 

“What?” He asked, desire edging into his voice whether he wanted it to or not. 

“What about distance?” You asked quietly, breathily. 

“Distance is overrated,” he said, tightening his hold on the towels so he wouldn’t grab you and kiss you the way he was so fucking desperate to do. 

He tried to make himself calm down in the few minutes you were in the bathroom, getting changed into pajamas and setting the beer-soaked towels out to dry. He wished he could jerk off because that might be the only thing that actually put him back inside his own goddamn head for a moment. Maybe he could once you were asleep, just lock himself in the bathroom and fuck his hand to the memory of you and try to keep your name off his tongue when he came. 

But that wouldn’t help now as he watched you cross the room in the little shorts and tank top you’d brought to sleep in, all but mesmerized by the bounce of your breasts when free of your bra when you walked or the way the soft cotton of your bottoms just skimmed the edge of your ass and he could see the swell of flesh there, almost out of sight, almost out of reach, close enough to tempt but far enough to not belong to him. 

“I really didn’t mean to put you out again,” you said as you climbed into bed beside him. “I really didn’t mean to the first time, either… In case I haven’t said it, I think I owe you my life for everything you’ve done for me and Ellie. I would have drowned in this alone.” 

“You’re not putting me out, Goldie girl,” he said, smiling a little. “Hell, it’s been nice, having the two of you around. Sarah’s been beggin’ me for a little sister since she could talk, think this is the closest she’s getting for a while…” 

You laughed a little and then sighed, leaning your head back against the headboard. 

“How bad do you think I fucked up with Anna?” You asked, watching him. 

He sighed. 

“I dunno… S’not like I know much about addiction or what she’s going through right now. But I can’t say I blame you for what you said. She knows you love her, that you want what’s best for her.” 

You sighed and looked down at your hands, picking at your thumbnail for a moment. 

“She’s the one who found our mom, did I ever tell you that?” 

“No,” Joel said quietly, watching you closely. 

“She did,” you nodded at your hands. “I can’t imagine what that would have been like for her. I only saw Mom after the funeral home had her, I didn’t have to… I wasn’t there for Anna after that. It’s no wonder she dropped out, found trouble, tried to take care of shit with drugs…” 

“That’s not on you,” Joel said. 

“Isn’t it?” You looked at him. “I was the big sister, I was who she had and I left her to cope with it alone and the first time I try to actually help her with something, I fuck that up, too.” 

“You were young,” Joel said. “Basically a kid.” 

“I was 20 years old,” you replied. “I was old enough to have a fiance and a career path and a life away from here. I could have moved back, I could have stepped up, I could have done something but I just…” 

“It’s not your job to take care of everybody, baby,” he said gently. 

“What if I fucked up so bad this time that she doesn’t come back?” You whispered. “What if she leaves Ellie with me forever and I can’t do it and…” 

You sniffed and looked back at your hands, a tear slipping down your cheek and Joel just tugged you against him, tucking you against his chest, kissing the crown of your head. 

“We’ll deal with it,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your hairline soothingly. “Whatever happens, I’ve got you. It’s OK.” 

You nodded wetly into his chest and he held you like that for a while, your body slowly molding to his until you were soft and warm and pressed entirely against him and your tears slowed. 

“You doin’ better?” He asked eventually and you nodded against him, sitting up and sniffling a little. He smiled, reaching out and trying your tears with a swipe of his thumb, your cheek fitting against his palm. “See? Not so bad.” 

“No,” you smiled a little back. “It’s not.” 

Your eyes were on his and he was so close to you, so close that he could almost touch your nose with his. 

So he did, moving ever so slightly closer so your skin was brushing his own. Your breath hitched when he did and instead of finding relief in the contact, it stoked a fire he hadn’t realized was burning, low and hot and sure, inside him. 

“Joel,” you breathed. “Please…” 

“It’s OK Goldie girl,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.” 

He kissed you then, the concept of distance so far at the back of his mind as he did, the spearmint of your toothpaste tinged with hops from the beer on your breath. 

It was hesitant at first. He wasn’t sure if it was just him holding back or if you were, too, but all pretense was gone almost immediately. You were twisting in the sheets, moving to face him, to put your arms around his neck and press yourself closer to him as his hands ranged over you, trying to touch as much of you as he could reach before you slipped through his fingers yet again. 

He pulled at your clothes, your mouth separating from his only long enough to get your shirts off, and you moaned into him, fingers fumbling with his pants, pulling the waistband down to free his already hard and aching cock. He palmed you through your shorts, your cunt so hot and wet he could feel it through the fabric and if he thought too long about what being inside you would feel like, he was going to come before he even had a chance to fuck you. 

Your hand wrapped around his length and you started working him, making him groan and you seemed hellbent on trying to move closer to him somehow, practically squirming as you worked yourself against his hand while pulling yourself toward him. 

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, breathless, as he tugged your shorts down, watching with rapt attention as your skin was revealed to him. You were glistening between your thighs and he groaned at the sight, tossing your shorts and panties aside before he teased your little, swollen clit. 

“Fuck,” you panted, closing your eyes for a moment. “Holy… I need…” 

“What?” He asked after a moment, working your clit harder. “What do you need, baby?” 

“You inside me,” your eyes opened again, your pupils blown. Your hips moved almost of their own accord against him and he moaned. “Please Joel, please, fuck, it hurts, I need…” 

“Take what you need,” he said, cock aching so bad he thought he might explode with hit. 

You just nodded before moving to straddle him. He sat back against the headboard and took your waist in his hands as your dripping slit brushed against his leaking head, his hips involuntarily jerking up toward you at the temptation of you there, hot and wet and wanting. 

Your eyes met his - so wide and vulnerable - before you lined him up with your grasping entrance and took him inside yourself in one, swift motion, 

He gasped at the feeling of it, how your velvet tightness made room for him inside of you, how your walls stretched over him, how you were so warm and soft inside, your wetness already making a mess of him. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathed, watching you closely. “So goddamn good…” 

You just gave him a strangled little moan as you looked down between your bodies to where he was entering you, panting for breath. You rolled your hips against him, slowly and deliberately at first, pulling a groan from him that made him thankful you were in some shitty hotel room and not home where his daughter would hear him because he didn’t think he could stop it if he tried. He didn’t want to stop it. He wanted to let himself get lost in you and your body and your pleasure until the only thought left in his mind was you. 

You started to ride him in earnest then, your pace increasing, your clit finding his pubic bone and grinding against him there as he thrust up into you, finding those deep, soft places inside your tight heat, places that made your channel start to flutter over him in little shocks of pleasure. 

He watched as you stifled your moan as he hit one of those places inside of you and he pressed there deeper, harder, holding you to him for a moment before his thumb moved to your clit, working you in tight circles. 

“Want to hear you, baby,” he panted before kissing and sucking at the tender skin of your throat. “Don’t gotta be quiet here, lemme hear you.” 

You nodded quickly, desperately, and his hands ran up your back as you arched into him, fingers digging into your flesh, guiding you over him as you rode him hard and fast and he met you stroke for stroke. You moaned, your body tightening around him and he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing and turning your moan into a needy little cry. 

“That’s it baby,” he panted against your skin. “Just take it. Come for me, make yourself come on my cock, c’mon.” 

Your movements became faster, more uncertain, your pussy so tight around him it would probably hurt in any other context but because it was you, like this, it was heaven. 

“Joel!” You cried, burying him deep inside as you exploded around him, your muscles throbbing over him. He held you close and tight and drank in the sight and sound of your pleasure for a moment before giving over to his own, coming hard and deep inside of you, rope after seemingly endless rope of his spend spilling into you. 

He held you close and tight like that as the two of you came back down from your shared high, buried inside you where it felt so much like he belonged he thought his heart might burst with it. 

Eventually, you sat back from him, your eyes searching his for a moment, a hint of panic at the edges. He ignored the sting in his chest that came with that and instead just cupped your cheek. 

“It’s OK baby,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.” 

You just watched him for another moment before you nodded and slowly, gently, pulled yourself away from him, settling against him on the bed. 

He had the fleeting thought that he should go, get a washcloth, clean the two of you up but he couldn’t bring himself to move, afraid if he lost this closeness with you now he might never get it back. Instead, he stayed there, trailing his fingers up and down your bare arm as he held you. 

“What are we doing?” You asked quietly, eventually. “We can’t keep doing this, Joel, we have responsibilities, we’re not teenagers anymore, there are kids involved now, we….” 

“Why do we have to be doing something?” He asked, adjusting so he could actually look at you. 

You pulled back from him, frowning a little. 

“What?” 

“Why can’t we just…” he paused, trying to find the words. Words he shouldn’t say but that he couldn’t seem to stop. “We’re basically living together. We have so much else goin’ on right now it’s not like we’re dating anyone. Why don’t we just…” 

He trailed off, hoping you’d fill in the rest. 

“Do you mean like…” You paused. “Friends with benefits or something?” 

“Yeah,” he said, even though calling you that felt so wrong that it was something like blasphemy. “Then we can just… do this when we need it. Don’t need to be a big deal, it can just…” 

“Right,” you said, looking from his face to his chest before nodding. “Yeah… That… we can try that. As long as you promise it won’t ruin things with us. I can’t lose you again, Joel. I just can’t.” 

“I know, baby,” he said quietly, kissing your forehead. “Can’t lose you, either.” 

“OK,” you said softly, nuzzling closer. “Friends.” 

“With benefits,” he said. 

“With benefits,” you said. 

The term felt so wrong that it took time to settle in him, reducing what he felt for you to something as simple as just friendship with sex. But there was something hopeful in him, too. Something that clung, vicious and hard, to the thought that he could have this with you, live in that place between worlds where he could pretend that you were his when he came home to you because he got to fit himself inside you every night. This, he thought, would be worth the destruction. 

He tried to dwell on the comfort of that as the two of you got packed the next morning, moving slowly but in sync with each other in the small room, one bed stained with beer and the other your indiscretions. 

Joel had given up hope that Anna would show - glad he hadn’t told you that he’d given Josh the room number so you wouldn’t be let down by it - when he carried your bags to the car in the morning but froze when he saw your brother-in-law standing outside an Uber, his arms crossed, watching the hotel room door. Joel just gave him a nod before going to put the bags in the trunk, Josh meeting him there. 

“Didn’t think you were comin’,” Joel said, closing the lid with a little too much force. 

Josh nodded slowly, staring at Joel’s feet. 

“Needed to talk things through with her first,” he said before meeting his eyes. “I didn’t know any of that shit, swear I didn’t. If I did, I wouldn’t have… I guess it doesn’t matter. I talked with her. She told me everything. I think everything, anyway.” 

Joel just nodded, giving him a chance to continue on his own terms. 

“I’m not good for her right now,” he said. “Shit, probably never was but I’m smart enough to know better now and I love her too much to let her get hurt because of me.” 

“So what are you going to do about it?” Joel asked. “Because saying that kind of shit don’t mean much if you just keep letting it happen.” 

“You’re right,” Josh said. “She’s in the car. She agreed to go home with you guys and go to rehab. Back to rehab, I guess.” 

Joel nodded again, looking toward the car, just making out the outline of Anna sitting in the back through the tinted window. 

“You’re doing the right thing,” Joel said. 

“Is she here?” Josh asked. Joel jerked his thumb toward the hotel room but Josh shook his head. “Not… I mean the baby. Ellie? Is she here?” 

“No,” Joel said. “She’s home, with my brother. He’s takin’ good care of her, he watched my daughter plenty when she was Ellie’s age.” 

Josh clenched his jaw but nodded anyway. 

“Probably for the best,” he said. “I’m not… I should figure my own shit out before I meet her. But I want to. I will. I’m going to.” 

Joel wasn’t sure he believed him but then, he’d done plenty to try to make himself worthy of being Sarah’s dad. Maybe Josh had it in him, too. 

“Joel, do you have the…” 

You fell silent as you came up beside him, one hand in your bag like you were looking for something, your mouth open in shock when you realized who he was standing with. 

“Hey sis,” Josh smiled awkwardly. 

“Hey,” you said quietly, eyes wide. 

“Anna’s in the car,” he said. “We talked. She’s going to head back with you, figure shit out.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, voice wet. 

“Yeah,” Josh said. “It’s… it’s the right thing. Just… don’t be too hard on her. She’s hurting.” 

“I won’t,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry I said what I did last night, I didn’t…” 

“It’s OK,” Anna said. Joel hadn’t even noticed her getting out of the car but she was there now, one arm crossed protectively over herself. “I know I didn’t give you much choice.” 

“Anna,” you breathed before all but throwing yourself at her, flinging your arms around her neck to pull her close. “I’m so glad you’re OK.” 

She laughed wetly as she hugged you back. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

Josh went to help her get her things from the Uber and you looked to Joel, drying your eyes on your wrists. 

“How’d you do it?” You asked quietly. 

He shrugged. 

“Don’t think I did much of anything at all,” he said, watching you closely. “Just told her the truth.” 

“Whatever you did,” you said, stepping closer to him. “Thank you.” 

You hugged him, your arms wrapping around him and he could feel every line of your body against his and he held you close. He couldn’t help but hold you close. 

“‘Course, baby,” he said. “Do anything for you.” 

He tried not to think about how true that was or how much that scared him as he gathered you up and took you and your sister home, where you belonged. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I'm so sorry this took an eternity to write. My carpel tunnel flared up something fierce and put me out of commission for a while. Thank you so much for being patient!

Goldie and Joel are doing... something. It's something. I promise they're getting somewhere, they really are! There are just a few more bumps in the road until they do. I just really love writing these two as they work through these long-held assumptions and insecurities! Thank you for wanting to be there for it.

Love you!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

[ange1sang]

empty cupboards

1k words, gallavich (ian x mickey) feat. mandy + svetlana

; canon compliant, season 4-5, domestic gallavich, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of weight loss + food scarcity + drug use, ed not otherwise specified, soft

Ian wakes up to the sound of the theme song to It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia bleeding through the paper thin walls of the Milkovich house and the smell of cigarettes and the "Easter bread" Svetlana was baking late last night when he got home. It's a regular morning, the kind Ian has grown fond of as he's gotten more used to being in the Milkovich household, but there's an ache in his bones that stops a smile from creeping onto his lips. He's been sleeping on his side, one knobby knee resting on top of the other, and pain is throbbing through his knees and ankles. He pushes himself upright as slowly as he can, pain shooting up his spine as he does. It's a familiar pain, one that's been coming and going since he's been working at the Fairy Tail, but this morning it's far worse than it's ever been.

He's dizzy as he stands up and pulls on a tank top Mickey left at the bottom of the bed, dragging his feet along the floor to make his way to the living room. Mandy and Mickey are occupying opposite ends of the couch, Mandy with her knees pulled up to her chest and some of the bread Svetlana made half-eaten in her hand and Mickey shirtless, half-asleep watching the TV. Neither of them notice him until he trudges further into the room.

"You okay?" is the first thing Mandy asks him, no 'good morning' or 'how'd you sleep?' like he usually gets. Ian can feel himself swaying back and forth where he's standing but the thought of sitting down makes tears prick his eyes, the pain in his knees, hips and ass still nauseating.

"Hey," Mickey says softly, fully awake now and all but jumping up to hold Ian steady. "You take somethin' last night?"

"Just coke," Ian mumbles, leaning into the warm hand Mickey rests on his shoulder.

"You ass, you were still hungover when you left," Mickey mutters, but his thumb gently rubs circles into the patch of freckles on Ian's shoulders. "C'mon, Lana left stuff for breakfast."

"'S not a hangover, Mick," he whispers, but allows Mickey to herd him into the kitchen and gently lean him against the kitchen counter. Mickey raises an eyebrow and watches him as he pours him coffee and gets him one of the pretty, decorated breads from the tray on the kitchen table. Ian takes a deep breath, head hanging down so his chin touches his chest. "My bones feel like shit, man."

Mickey sighs, long and hard, and sets down the cup of coffee to pour a generous amount of creamer in. The sight of it makes anxiety prickle along Ian's forearms, remembering the scales he has to step on every couple months at the Fairy Tail and all of the advice he gets afterwards - black coffee always lands somewhere near the top of that list.

"You gotta eat more, Ian," he says, just as gentle as he is firm. He's getting better at letting his concern show through (or worse, depending on which of them is asked) and right now the furrow between his brows speaks volumes as he leans in to kiss Ian's cheekbone. "Fuck the club and all that shit, okay? Stay home, Nika's coming over to help Lana with dinner later."

"You want me here?" Ian teases, lifting his head just enough to meet Mickey's eyes. His boyfriend rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue, but when Ian takes the mug of lukewarm coffee from him, he smiles. The anxiety pumping through Ian's veins calms a little at the sight, thoughts of scales and diet tips taking a backseat when faced with the warmth of Mickey's affection.

"Yeah, dickface. Get some food in you 'nd sleep in," Mickey says. There's no pleading, but Ian sees it in the way his eyes flit back and forth between Ian's features, looking for reassurance that Ian isn't going to leave for the club on an empty stomach.

"Okay," he finally concedes. He reaches down and presses his thumb against his knee cap, trying and failing to rub the pain in his joint away. He feels stupid, knowing that just a year ago he was fit enough to be in the military and now he can't sleep on his side without wrecking his knees, hips and ankles. "You really think it's just the food?"

"Same thing would happen when Terry used to fuck off and we didn't have enough food for all of us," Mickey says, voice hushed while he glances over at Mandy. Ian watches his expression change when he looks at his sister and thinks back to him stealing boxes of food from the Kash and Grab. He wonders how many of those times were just to fuck with Kash and how many of them were because there was a house full of teenagers and criminals running on an empty stomach. "It gets better when you have enough to eat for a while."

Ian offers him a smile he hopes is comforting, and when that doesn't seem to work he takes another sip of the coffee and takes the bread Mickey's still holding out to him. He takes a bite and hums to let Mickey know it's good, though that's no surprise with the cooking Svetlana's done for them in the past. Some of the tension in Mickey's shoulder dissipates and he smiles at Ian.

"C'mon, Always Sunny reruns are on," he says, and with a hand between Ian's shoulder blades he walks him back to the sofa.

They spend the morning there, Ian drifting in and out of sleep with his head on Mickey's lap and his feet on Mandy's, the ache in his bones a reliable ebb and flow. He doesn't really wake up until Svetlana and Nika get home and start bustling around the kitchen, occasionally calling out for help from Mandy or Iggy. When he wakes he blinks up at Mickey and finds his boyfriend already looking down at him, a small smile on his face.

"Call the club," he says, his thumb coming down to stroke a soft line down between Ian's brows. "Stay home."

Ian smiles and pulls Mickey's hand down to his mouth so he can kiss his palm.

"Okay."

[kxxkiecxre]

ꕥFWM - J.J.K ꕥ

PAIRING: Jungkook x F!reader

SERIES: like a moth to a flame.

SUMMARY: “do you really fuck with me or no? Do you trust me enough? Do you love me like I love you Y/N”

WARNINGS: bit of arguing, self doubts, about forgive cheating, angst, fluff, smut, fingering, cum eating, multiple orgasms, they joined the mile high club lol, mirror sex, unprotected sex (please don’t), tummy bulging. I think that’s it lol.

previously… next…

You had hoped this wouldn’t have happened. You trusted him enough to believe he wouldn’t screw you over like that. That he wouldn’t ever hurt you this much, but, maybe you truly are too naive? Because time and time again, you end up getting hurt. Even by the people you believed loved you.

But doubting yourself like this, comparing yourself to other women because of a man, you truly can’t believe you let yourself stoop so low because of him. Sure you love him, maybe a little too much, and maybe that’s why it hurts so fucking much, but you thought you had your heart wrapped in bubble wrap. Protecting it from breaking again, and here we go, Job failed. Maybe you should slap a ‘fragile’ sticker on top of it as well.

The rain seemed to be pour out of a bucket as you walked the streets of Boston, unsure of where you are or where you’re going. Eventually, you found a small cafe, stopping inside to grab a hot mocha and think.

Perhaps, he wasn’t lying? Was he telling the truth or is that just your wishful thinking? What if he did sleep with that woman? What does that mean?

You loved him so much it was practically suffocating you. Every single inch of your soul ached for his company every minute of every day. If almost burned you painfully when he wasn’t connected to you in some type of way. Everyday that you wouldn’t be with him, was like you’ve been the sickest you could be. Deathly sick. It was nauseating being away from him.

The way he’d touch your skin, his finger tips trailing your delicate flesh so gently, minimally running his fingers up and down. The way his kisses would be so gentle but so rough, leaving purple bruises in the wake of his pillow-like lips. His mouth was dirty, so dirty, he’d tell you all the things he’d love to do to you, while his fingers would be dipping inside of you. He’d edge you closer and closer. Tell you how beautiful you’d look when you were in your most natural state, moaning, sweaty and flushed underneath him. He’d tell you how much he loved kissing you, how much he adored your skin, how good you were. His body would melt into your skin while he’d be thrusting into you so deeply you could feel him in your cervix, and still, he’d tell you how gorgeous you looked while you’d come. He’d tell you how your eyes glisten and how he could get lost in them.

It drove you insane, he drove you insane. He wasn’t meant to ever become this precious to you. This close and personal. You were never meant to fall in love with him, fuck.

Yet here you are, walking back to the hotel. Coming to terms with the fact that you’d push aside your own pain and ego, just to keep having him close. Just to make him yours. Just to keep feeling that ecstatic feeling every time he’d kiss you. It was a drug stronger than fentanyl. Than cocaine, than heroine. Anything. Love, was the drug that truly would fuck you up.

Standing in front of the door, you suck in a deep breath, dripping wet, you enter the room to a disorientated Jungkook.

You’re not sure how you woke up to only argue with him again. Still here you are, with your phone in hand, realising he actually was telling you the truth. He truly was only helping his friend out and for some reason that made you so upset.

But no body was as upset as Jungkook right now. Standing in front of you in nothing more than grey sweatpants. Shirtless and angry.

“I don’t understand how you could just leave like that? You didn’t even have half the mind to text even Minho to say you’re okay, or that you’re taking a walk? You had me going crazy, shit don’t you get it?” He says desperately.

You bite your lip, for once lost for words.

“I love you so much I was about to go out and leave everything behind just to find you. I was going to call everyone I knew around here to help find you, fuck can’t you see that I see no point without you?”

“Jungkook what are you saying? You’re telling me you love but how can you blame? We went from friendly to hating each other to sex, you gave me no clue that you’d even remotely love me. How was I suppose to know?”

“So me spending everyday with you, giving you my entire attention, being mesmerised by you didn’t tell you that I could at least have a crush on you? All the roses the teddies the gifts the fact that no other person had even half of the attention I was giving you, not even my sister, was not a sign?”

You sigh, running your hand through your hair, you really fucked up huh?

“I’m sorry.”

His brows furrow, he squats to your level, forehead against yours his hands cupping your face as he closes his eyes, “do you really fuck with me or no? Do you trust me enough? Do you love me like I love you Y/N?”

You nod, your hands wrapping around his wrists, “I love you even more Jungkook.”

Going back home was depressing. A whole different vibe to when you arrived in Boston. Though you’ve mended things with Jungkook, you don’t particularly think this will be an easy fix. Nor do you think anything will be the same, not after you both confessed to your feelings. It’d be weird to just ignore all that happened and just go back to what you were

Not to mention, you’d have to explain everything to yeji and just that thought makes you feel nauseas.

Jungkook sat beside you in the backseat of the van, black puffer coat on his upper half, paired with a with a black oversized short with a white turtleneck underneath and his baggy cargo pants. His accessories, the silver gun in particular, was your recent gift to him. As well as the rings on his fingers. You weren’t dressed as nicely, a basic white cropped puffer coat that had a hoodie lined with faux fur, underneath though, you wore your baby pink long sleeve but skin tight shirt, your pants were the most general white tracksuits. You wore a beanie on top of your head because you genuinely felt like you were going to freeze to death. Even in your basic outfit, he reminded you how beautiful you looked, and it made you feel guilty, because you didn’t have the trust in him, even if he gave you no reason to distrust him. Your trust issues were getting in the way, and sure, before everything, before this, it used to be a silly little joke. Not anymore though.

You realise now you have a lot of shit to work through. You hadn’t realised how messed up you were, really. This situation opened up your eyes and as you follow him to sit across him for breakfast before going to the airport, you sigh, mentally fighting yourself wether you should bring this issue up now, or perhaps when you get home and get settled, you’re not sure how much more disagreeing both of you can take. You’re really tired of it.

“Look at me,” his voice was gentle, dripping honey as he spoke to you, “no more running out on each other, let’s have a little more trust in each other hm? Let’s hear each other out before we jump to conclusions and work on this together. This wasn’t all your fault either. I messed up to.”

You closed your eyes in a silent plea to stop blaming himself, your heart clenching the more you realise how you must have really hurt him, “the truth is, you haven’t. You did nothing wrong, on the contrary actually, you did everything right. You took care of a friend who needed you, especially a woman who needed someone she could trust to get her home safely and you did just that. And I couldn’t be more proud of you, I’m sorry I reacted like that. Im sorry Jungkook.”

He licked his pierced lip, nodding his head gently, “no biggie, just promise me one thing.”

You nodded immediately, beginning to take your gloves off, “anything.”

“Don’t ever leave me like that again. Don’t just disappear on me. Matter of fact, just don’t leave my side ever.”

Your eyes soften, heart beating faster than a bulletin train, “I promise.”

“Then why are you still sitting there?, come here.” His arms opened wider, welcoming you to his side.

You sat beside him, curling up into his side as his arm dropped around you. If a doctor put a stethoscope to your chest right now they’d be getting a crash cart In seconds. Your heart was erratic, jumping, running, sprinting, cartwheeling around in your chest as his lips connected to yours for a sweet and gentle kiss. Sure, you’re slowly patching things up. But that doesn’t mean everything is alright, nothing is alright until you truly discuss what’s going on between you. What you want to do about it, and finally telling Yeji. It won’t be ok until then.

Still, it’s better than being silent towards each other.

Still your thoughts chased you, even while you were sat beside him in the plane. Your mind never shut off, it was constantly on repeat. Naming things that are wrong with you, slowly realising you’ve been hurting Jungkook without even realising it. The times you’d roll your eyes at him when he’d tell you, that you’re the most important person in life right now along side his sister. The times you’d ignore him protecting you for own good, just like he tried protecting you against Jimin. All the times you wouldn’t trust him. The times you’d always choose Yeji over him.

Fuck, you were so incredibly guilty.

Taking his hand in yours, you bring it up to your mouth, planting little kisses on it a million times, hugging his bicep closer to you as if you could mend the pain you caused him. Realistically, that’s impossible. If you knew sooner, the way your stupid self was affecting him. You’d have apologised sooner. He slept peacefully beside you, nose blushed pink along with his cheeks, eyelashes long and curly, and his lips were a bit dry, but you blame the cold weather for his soft pillowy lips turning this way because yours are also incredibly dry and chapped.

A couple hours in and Jungkook is wide awake, staring at you as you slowly wake up. His hand still in yours, albeit not held onto as tightly anymore. Still his smile widens as you fully look at him now, confused on why he has the mischievous glint In his eyes.

“I’m even in your dreams huh? Was I as good as I am in reality baby?” He smirked to himself as his nose buried in your hair.

Like a deer caught in headlights, your cheeks flushed, eyes round and big “what?”

“Be a good girl and meet me In the bathroom in five minutes hm?”

You watched him walk away, still shocked at what he meant. Well you knew what he meant you were just shocked. Still you checked your watch waiting another two minutes before you went to the bathroom eyes scanning the rows of people in case any of them knew, most were asleep some were too busy reading.

Knocking the door opens and you were snatched inside almost instantly. His lips were desperate on your own, practically bruising. You kissed back full force, back against the door as his hand skimmed the rim of your sweatpants, gentle and ghostly on your skin before his hand followed down, pulling your thong to the side as his fingers dipped between your lips, feeling just how soaked you were, dripping down your own thigh and it drove him mad.

“Fucking hell Y/N,” he groaned, “what am I gonna do with you mhm?”

You whimpered, hands balled into fists around his black shirt desperate to feel him inside of, rubbing your thighs together as your core tingled, desperately looking for relief.

“Please Kook, I need you to fill me up.”

Your pants were down your legs in seconds. And your body was pressed against the sink, the mirror hanging right in front of you showing you just how desperate you were. His body behind you as he positioned your body, your ass sticking out, and his cock dragged up and down between your folds, pulling little moans out of you. Your core practically screamed for him, tingling as if there were a hundred million butterfly’s there.

The tip of his cock stretched you out, and it already had you whimpering, falling apart as he whined a barely audible “damn” under his breath.

Jungkook set the pace rough and animalistic from the start. He wasn’t messing around. He hit that sweet spot inside you over and over, his larger hands tangled with yours over the edge of the skin, his body flush against your back as he fucked you so good, he looked back at you in the mirror, smirking.

“Look at yourself baby, look how fucking beautiful you are.. shit” he groaned as you clenched around him, your pussy throbbing around his fat cock as it pounded inside of you, his hand came up to grab onto your jaw forcing you to looking back at him in the mirror, “do you see it? How fucking perfect you are? That’s my girl”.

You moaned a bit too loud, his hand covering your mouth as he raised you to almost stand, flush against his chest as he began thrusting slower but so fucking deep. He brought the hand that was over yours towards your lower stomach, making you feel him thrusting in and out of you. He was balls deep, hitting every tiny nerve and you knew it was going to be messy, so messy. A few more deep thrusts and you cum around him, forming a white sticky juice around his cock as it dragged in and out, running around his fat dick and it was enough for him to shoot his load up inside you.

“Shit, my perfect little whore hm?”

“Yes.”

You winced as he pulled out, leaving an empty feeling inside of you. And you missed him already, clenching around nothing but rather spilling his cum out of you. He dropped to his knees, watching as it made a mess of your swollen pussy, and he’s not quite sure what possessed him, but he latched onto your cunt within seconds, licking you up and making you gasp at the over stimulation as his tongue lapped around your pussy, sucking and twirl on your clit before dragging his tongue inside your hole and your legs shook as you came down once again, shocked at his behaviour. Your hands tightly wrapped around his black hair.

“What the fuck.”

It was too late for this, but still, just as you entered Yejis apartment she immediately threw herself at you, hugging you as if she hasn’t seen you for years. You hugged her back, smiling from ear to ear. damn the woman’s strong she had you In a tight ass grip you could barely breathe.

As she sat you down at the couch you shared a look with Jungkook, knowing that at some point she’ll need to find out and for some reason it leaves your stomach in a twist. Afraid she’ll hate your guts for falling for her brother.

Still, he smirked at you as he went into his room, and you knew that little rendezvous in the plane was just the beginning to what he had in store for you and it made a shiver run down your back.

Eyes focusing on yeji ranting about something, your mind was on other things though it looked like you gave her your undivided attention and it was kinda mean of you but at the same time, you really didn’t want to hurt yeji.

Anyone, but Yeji.

A/N: sorry the chapters seem so short 😩 enjoy!!!

[skeletboi]

Super short update because my life is a mess.

But here is part 24 of the Intridimensional Au!

First /// Previous /// Next

__________________________________________

“Impressive as ever.” Ford said as he looked at the robot arm on the work bench.

“Thanks, Stanford.” Fiddleford replied quietly.

Ford watched Fiddleford place his good hand over the arm then glanced up at Fiddleford's face and frowned.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Lots a’ things are, I reckon.” Fiddleford said with a humorless huff of laughter. “Ya know when I went back home fer Christmas and fergot ta get Emma-May a present?”

“I recall, yes.” Ford responded, his frown deepening.

“She was already purdy darn mad at me before that. I wore baggy sweaters ta try and hide the metal cast on my arm so she wouldn't go worryin’ ‘bout it, but Tate ain't dumb and heard the hum of the components. He asked me about it, ‘cuz he's at that age where they ask a million questions, and I told him it was a metal cast. ‘Course he's an imaginative kid so he immediately started calling it a robit arm. He ran ta Emma-May ta tell her, and I thought she was ‘bout to murder me on the spot.” Fiddleford paused and picked up the arm. “He'd love this, but Emma-May would hate it.”

“I love it, if that makes you feel any better.” Ford said, placing a hand on Fiddleford's back.

“It does.” Fiddleford said with another quiet laugh. “But I can't stop thinkin’ about that. Emma-May knew how I felt ‘bout you in college, and we got in a purdy big fight ‘bout it before I came ta Gravity Falls. I love Emma-May, but our parents both loved the idea of us bein’ together more than we did. I think maybe we were more like best friends than spouses, but I promised her I'd be back ‘cause, above all else, we jus’ wanted Tate ta have a normal childhood.” Fiddleford set the arm back down and choked on a laugh that sounded suspiciously more like a sob. “‘Spose I'll jus’ hafta live with the fact that he won't. I don’ know if he'll ‘member me at all.”

“Fidds…” Ford said softly, unsure of what else to say with his own guilt and regret tearing at his chest.

“If I knew it was gonna turn out this way I prolly woulda jus’ said screw it and kissed ya as soon as ya opened the door to yer damn creepy cabin in the woods.”

Ford cracked a smile at that, but Fiddleford still looked a thousand miles away as he stared down at the arm.

“You would have stopped me.” Ford said after a moment.

Fiddleford glanced over at him in question.

“You say you would have kissed me right then, but I know you, and, if you had known this was the outcome, you would have left.” Ford clarified.

“Maybe.” Fiddleford responded thoughtfully, “But maybe not. Maybe I’m too scared in every timeline.”

“Fuck that.” Stan said, coming up behind them and dropping the last box at their feet. “I saw your face when Ford mentioned fighting back against Bill. That wasn't fear. That was determination.”

Fiddleford smiled sadly over his shoulder at Stanley.

“I thought you'd grow out of being so cheesy.” Ford deadpanned.

“Nope!” Stan replied with a smile. “But if you two are done being nauseating, we have some boxes to go through. I found a box of brown meat! It says it expires in 1993, but who the fuck knows what year it is in this dimension. My plan is to eat it now, ask questions later!”

“I believe you meant ‘die of food poisoning later’.” Ford noted.

“Or die of starvation! Might as well eat mystery food and die the fun way!” Stan laughed.

“Dysentery don't sound fun.” Fiddleford replied.

“Whatever, nerds.” Stan said, motioning to the boxes. “Just grab what you want so we can get on with life. I found a shot gun, too. You're welcome.”

Fiddleford laughed but did as he was told and put aside his arm project to start rummaging through the boxes.

___________________________________________

Sorry non-Fiddauthor fans. I needed Fiddauthor.

I originally wasn't going to write this bit in, but I wanted to give some context to the guilt they're both still feeling and the relationship between Emma-May and Fidds. Emma-May is bi in this universe, but prefers woman. Is that a cop-out to make myself feel better about how much Fidds hurt her? Yes, yes it is. But I am doing it anyway because I do what I fucking want.

I have another art piece nearly done, so I'll probably post it tomorrow. For now, enjoy. Or whatever.

[cheesit-notes]

Widowed Ghost

Ghost goes through the stages of grief... but only 4.

tags: hurt/virtually no comfort, throwing up, implied ghost didnt eat, or sleep, or take care of himself, 5 stages of grief, reader died, (first time) angst teehee

a/n: writing this made me feel better teehee. anywho, i love reader deaths (love u readers ♡)

widowed Ghost who cannot bring himself to cry when he hears the news. allowed to see you, or at least the hollow husk of you, he’ll glance at the mangled burned body that was once yours with a thousand thoughts yet no words to say. he’ll turn away, unable to face the reality.

for the week leading to your funeral, Ghost cannot, and perhaps purposely does not, process your death. he goes on with life as he usually would. but there are a few moments where he'll call out your name, intending to show you something, talk to you, or just because he wanted your attention. and those moments kill him inside. the silence, the lack of a response, the lack of you, kills him. for a few seconds to minutes at a time, he faces the reality that you're gone. for better or worse, his mind quickly convinces him you're simply busy. and he'll foolheartedly believe it. 

Ghost is silent the day of your funeral. he's forced to face the reality that you are gone; not just for a few seconds or moments at a time, but indefinitely. pitiful glances from empathetic faces and softly muttered 'I'm sorry's feel suffocating. he can't- doesn't want to believe it. you, in that god awful box? it can't be true. as cruel as it would be, he wishes this was all some sick joke.

blurred memories of being driven home, walking inside his house, and mindlessly walking into your once shared bedroom. and as he sits on the edge of the bed, it hits him. the cold, harsh reality hits him like a truck. you were gone. and there was nothing he could do about it. he hated this feeling. he hated feeling like a helpless little boy at the mercy of his heartless father; unable to do anything.

tears threaten to fall, his eyes burning to hold them back as he chokes on air. he hasn't cried in so long. always feeling like his problems didn't matter enough to cry. the feeling, it's nauseating. he feels like he's going to throw up.

he stumbles over to the bathroom sink because he knows you aren’t fond of cleaning up vomit after he got too drunk once. he never got that drunk again. he throws up the bits of food he forced himself to eat earlier because you were always worried about the lack of food he used eat. he didn’t want to worry you. and he looks at himself, and thinks he looks pathetic. pale, unkept, dirty, and he believes he's so undeserving of you; this is why you left him. that you left this world behind, left him behind, because he wasn’t enough to keep you here.

he’s mad at you for leaving him, and he’s mad at himself for being so.. him. and god, he thinks if anything was different about him, maybe you’d stay. doesn’t matter to him if you had no say in your own death, all that mattered was that you weren’t here now. reason had no place in a man blinded by pure fury. all he could think about was how unfair it was that you left him, and how he wasn’t enough to have you stay. maybe, he thought, if he was better, if he was anything else than the pathetic excuse of a man, maybe then you’d care a little more and be alive.

the blinded rage continues for hours. it began with thoughts of hatred he had towards you, himself, everything, but slowly began getting physical. he was never taught to use his words to express his feelings so they came out in actions. holding back tears he didn’t know he had, he took his rage out on anything that couldn’t fight back. a table flipped over and broken, chairs laid on their sides, everything pushed and shoved over leaving him standing in the empty space he created.

there’s no dreadful feeling like what he felt standing in the middle of the mess he made. he felt like his father; taking his anger out on things that couldn’t fight back. the arguable difference was the things Ghost took his anger out on wasn’t alive, but what difference did that truly make? perhaps if he had a kid, he would be his father’s replica. and he feared such a thought. with a heavy heart, he slowly put everything back where it once was, because you wouldn’t like the place being a pigsty.

he hates himself for this but for moments at a time, he’s convinced that it’s better you’re gone. he’ll never have to hear you nagging him to eat more, clean up after himself, go take a shower, take a break; never again. he’ll never be woken up by your laughs because you stayed awake, watching videos, for him to sleep. he’ll never be interrupted in anything again.

but who was he kidding? he misses it badly.

he misses hearing you tell him to eat more, threatening to force feed him if you caught him eating less. he misses you shoving him into the bathroom and yelling at him to shower because he stunk and you couldn’t stand the fact he just didn’t take care of his hygiene. he misses you forcibly taking him away from his work; the cruddy attempts of kidnapping him away from base and the way he’d begrudgingly play along. he misses you reassuring him that he could sleep, that you’d keep watch. he misses being woken up by your barely audible laughs, and how you frantically apologized for waking him. he misses resting his head on yours while the two of you stayed awake watching anything. he misses having someone who cared enough about him to do all that and more. 

he misses you.

[according2thelore]

ohhhhh man now you’ve got me brooding over es!sam. it never occurred to me before that among them, he would end up feeling always the square peg in a round hole. the pride and resilience and hope he carried like medals in the first seasons gave him a sense of value and esteem, and i can’t imagine how it feels to be thrown into this inevitability where none of himself remains and in fact the bits he tries to hold onto are an irritant to the quid pro quo in a way nobody will outright honestly explain to him. rather than saving himself and his brother and the world like he thought he would at the end of it all, everywhere he looks is just another form of loss. ls!boys would lap up his es brother, the eager (and adorably naive) hunter with ideas and brawn and something to prove, so much of the same flowing through the blood of all 3 of them, but imagine the grief es!sam feels walking through the cold echoing hallways of the bunker, everything just a nauseating maelstrom of weapons and lore books and charts, no john, no mary, no jess, no wives and no children, no living friends, no presence or interest in the world he always dreamed to blend into, and nobody at his side to truly understand or feel that grief with him. and on top of that the things he feels about dean, complex and ugly and heavy to hold, have somehow been tugged out of him into the open in the future and locked behind a door he has no key to and even touching the knob burns his hand - the derision/amusement of the ls!bros even if they don’t intend it as such, the constant knowing smiles like he isn’t THEM like they don’t know how it feels and how much it suffocates him ohhhh man look what you’ve done to my poor heart with these snippets

YES!!!! ANON!!! YOU GET IT!!!!

first off, your writing is gorgeous?? holy shit?? eating all of your words they are in my mouth now i am sorry

but YES

he would def feel like the odd man out (depending on the season ES!Sam is from) because the other three love the life. they find joy and purpose and meaning in the hunt in a way sam lost. the hunt is a tool. a means to an end.

i think it wouldn't take long for LS!Sam to see the bunker, with the dozens of empty rooms--the shell of a home, only echoes and blades and the collected sum total of knowledge of people long-dead--and ask the group, "is this fucking it?"

no one knows what he's talking about (ES!Dean is so excited because he gets a kickass bunker AND a garage AND an armory AND sammy forever??), but sam is shaking because there are shirts folded in some of the empty rooms' dressers. dead men who thought they'd come back, a physical reminder of every goddamn person they've lost in the endless quest for vengeance. everything sam left for.

"is this all i fucking get?" ES!Sam snaps. "an underground crypt? no wife. no kids. no job. no fucking friends? did the hunt really fucking bury us?"

and everyone goes deadly fucking silent. LS!Dean has to leave the room because it's everything he'd always feared LS!Sam thinks. sam has always needed others more than dean does (or at least, that's what dean thinks, we literally see contradictory evidence in the show but okay). LS!Dean's afraid that sam has always resented him for the way their lives ended up, for dragging sam down with him.

and ES!Dean is crushed because this is his dream. he gets to save lives. he gets to carry dad's legacy. he gets to keep sam, all the unnecessary fluff--a mission to keep them together, girls, obligations--removed. and sam is disgusted by it.

LS!Sam just stares at ES!Sam blankly. he's annoyed with him, before something smaller, something pitying, slips into the shape of his mouth. he gets up to follow LS!Dean, leaving ES!Sam to wallow in his own sick. in this moment, Sam can't even empathize with himself.

and ES!Sam is sitting in the blast radius of his own fury. no one will look him in the eye. LS!Dean looks sick before he leaves the table. no one will answer his questions. no one even tries.

LS!Sam keeps trying to say, "this is what i want, sam. i don't mind. i love what i do, and i love doing it with dean." and all sam can hear is i gave up. i couldn't get out. i'm coping. don't destroy this glass house with a hammer because it's the only home i have left.

and ES!Sam still aches. because ES!Dean is already choosing another sam. LS!Dean looks at him like he has the power to kill him. LS!Sam looks at him like he pities him, which is the deepest cut of all.

poor sam. poor sam who doesn't want to die for this. poor sam who doesn't get us, who isn't us.

LS!Dean, ironically enough, is the closest ES!Sam gets to compassion, but it always feels like blows directed at himself. yeah. it sucks, kid. it fucking blows. i wanted you to get a wife. to get out. i...i tried. i'm sorry. it's more self-recrimination than care.

but GOD! ES!Sam goes for a run and sprints until he throws up because he sees the packed strength of LS!Dean's arms, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. he sees the easy way LS!Sam&Dean laugh with each other, the way they talk with looks alone, the naked adoration. he sees ES!Dean and aches and aches and aches and aches and aches. he needs something he doesn't have the words for, something he's terrified to name, because does that mean that he's giving up? does that mean that he's the fucked up one--perverting this easy life that they all clearly adore?

and even the joy he finds--talking with LS!Dean in the kitchen, sparring with ES!Dean in the gym, enthusing with LS!Sam over texts--there are moments. small ones. where sam realizes that the person talking to him kind of stops, content. he's already part of this system, of this unit. sometimes the pauses feel patronizing. or excited. or so full of tension that sam is already hardening in his jeans. or sad. and it's confusing, but sam is walking down the empty hallways, passing rooms of dead men and seeking out his brother, always his brother, always.

GRAH!!! lonely ES!Sam. bitter ES!Sam. joyful ES!Sam. jealous ES!Sam. possessive ES!Sam. ES!Sam choking on the things he doesn't understand--the things he can't--that have made their lives the way they are.

thank you for this ask, anon! it was beautifully written! and now i am also thinking about this! perpetual motion machine of devouring ES!Sam whole!

-lizzy

[sarandipitywrites]

writemas (day 7)

day 7's prompts, courteous of the lovely @agirlandherquill, made me think of necromancy (and a story that i haven't started writing yet about an aspiring lich queen). so that's what we're getting today :D

---

“If I were to die, would you try to save me?”

Nerisa jolted, her lover's voice yanking her back from fantasy, from the spiderwebs of shadow their entwined fingers cast upon the ceiling. The wind beyond the cabin walls moaned, reproving her silence.

“Would you try to save me,” Miri continued, turning her hand to better catch the lamplight, “or would you hasten my end?” The shadow grew and twisted; from the web, a monster emerged.

Nerisa clutched Miri's hand, stilled her fingers' tenebrous writhing. “I'd try to save you. You know I would.” What choice would she have? Who else could calm the dark clouds of Nerisa's mind with nothing more than a smile? Who else could listen to her endless ramblings about science and magic with the same infinite patience with which she endured Nerisa's silence? Who else in this town—in this world—would lay here, with her, like this?

“Do you promise?” The hitch in her voice drew Nerisa's eye. Miri lay there, arm stretched to the heavens, her jaw tight and quivering. The lamplight caught in her eyes, sunlight in dewdrops.

“Miri, what—”

“Promise.”

“Yes.” Tears springing to her own eyes, Nerisa drew Miri in close, tucked her lover's head under her chin. She held her, even as Miri's body shook with sobs. She held her, even as her mind raced to determine the cause of Miri's sudden despair. “Yes, of course. Of course I promise.”

That night, those words, that promise echo in Nerisa's mind now. They howl as loud as the wind, blinding as the snow in her eyes as she searches the blizzard. “Miri!” The storm steals her voice away, just as it stole Miri.

She'd said she would be back quickly—before the storm hit. A quick errand—just to check the fishing lines before they froze over. Nerisa hadn't wanted her to go at all; she should never have let her go alone.

That she finds Miri at all is a miracle. Only when she gets her lover's still and frozen body back home does she remember that miracles do not come in pairs.

Without Miri, Nerisa hardly eats or sleeps; the thought of comfort, of wellness nauseates her, drives her back into the musty world of books and potions. As she works, all the while, Miri sits with her, as patient and loving as ever.

Preserving a body, mercifully, is far easier than reanimating one.

She succeeds because she must—if what she achieves can be called 'success.' Miri's spirit is too far dead and gone to be retrieved in its entirety; a piece of Nerisa's own must do. When Miri awakes, it is as from a long sleep. She remembers some things, but not others; she remembers those nights in the lamplight, those spiderweb shadows on the ceiling. She remembers begging, pleading for Nerisa to save her, to promise. She cannot for the life of her remember why.

Miri loves and hates her by turns. Nerisa tries to dredge the void for the rest of Miri's spirit, to reform her into the person she used to be. Miri stops her. She doesn't want to go back; she doesn't want that utter devotion. She abhors it, just as she abhors the thought of leaving Nerisa.

Love, Nerisa once heard, is a blessing; blessings, she now knows, cannot but wither in her hands. If only she'd never felt love's light at all, perhaps she could have lived a harmless life. A dark one and a lonesome one, but a harmless one. If only she'd never met Miri.

If only Miri had never calmed Nerisa's storm with her smile.

[jiminiecrickets]

How about (the seven days a week couple) a drabble where oc hangs out with jk and hyungs and they talk about how jk talks about oc so much? And how much jk love's him?

sfw

there have been more than a few drinks. jungkook has been nursing a glass of apple juice for the last hour, lazing about on the back porch steps – he refuses to embarrass himself in front of you and his friends.

"oh, oh – speaking of, do you remember when kookie came home from his first proper date with yn-hyung? he floated around the house with a lovestruck smile on his face for hours!"

"hey, why're we sharing embarrassing stories of me?" jungkook protests as a round of 'ooh's and sage nods pass around the circle. "i thought we collectively agreed to bully taehyung!"

"we've already beaten him up and stolen his wallet and phone," yoongi says with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "it's your turn to sit in the torture chair."

taehyung sticks his tongue out at jungkook, who returns it. "deserved. hey, remember when yn-hyung took us to the beach and kook pushed him into the water? oh, gosh, seeing that body under that white shirt, those arms..." taehyung sighs, fanning himself and batting his eyelashes, morphing his expression into one of wide-eyed poutiness that would look right at home on jungkook. "you were eating sand when his took off his shirt."

jungkook turns to you and smiles. he says politely, "hyung, can you please hold this for me? thank you."

you accept the glass of apple juice with a grin. "go get him, baby."

jungkook stands. "three."

taehyung scrambles to his feet and they roar with laughter as jungkook chases him down, tackling him to the soft grass and messing up his perfect summer curls, which he knows took him hours at the bathroom mirror. "take it back! you take that back! why're you swooning at my boyfriend, huh? just because you're blond doesn't mean you're better than me!"

jimin leans closer to you, seated on the step below yours. he watches with an expression between amusement and incredulity. "he's pretty protective over you, isn't he?"

"i think it's cute," you reply, watching fondly as he throttles his best friend. "i like how he tries to take care of me. see, when he's done, he's going to return like a puppy with a fetch stick and latch onto me. i'm going to be holding his drink for the rest of the night."

"aw," he coos. "you know, he talks about you so much it's almost nauseating – he's always thinking of you, even when he's with us. he could be mid-conversation with namjoon-hyung – and you know how much he adores him – and immediately pivot on the spot to point out your favourite pastry in the bakery window. true story, by the way."

"oh, so i'm still the favourite? good to know – i won't have to fight my boyfriend's boyfriend any time soon."

jimin laughs into his palm, curling it up and resting his cheek on it as jungkook trots back towards you with a pleased smile. taehyung groans amongst the grass and the daisies.

"well, does anyone else have any stories where they'll inadvertently reveal that they've been looking at my partner with nefarious intentions?" jungkook huffs, plopping back next to you. he curls his arms around your elbow, leaning against your shoulder. "he's mine. i found him first."

jimin snorts. "he's not a pokemon, jungkook. you don't get to play finders-keepers with him."

"sure i can. look." he lifts his head, staring you right in the eye. "if anyone – anyone, including and especially the people present right now – ever tries to take you away from me, you tell me, okay? i'll deal with them."

limping back to the circle, taehyung flops down with a groan. hoseok pats his back symathetically. "all i did was compliment his boyfriend and he was about to drop my body in a lake. you better be loyal, yn-hyung, or i guarantee you'll face a fate worse than grass stains."

"if i ever fail, you better drop my body in a lake," you tell jungkook with a soft smile, "because that was an impostor."

he hums, leaning in and tilting his head to kiss you sweetly. you ignore the many gags and groans around you. "deal."

[moa-broke-me]

I was tired.

I gripped my arms tighter around myself, shivering against the freezing pelts of rain, protected only by my baggy shirt. As I passed a store window, I caught a reflection of myself. My lips were blue.

I ducked into the 24 hour drugstore and gas station next to me, and tried to warm myself up a little by the coffee machine. The smell made me nauseated with hunger, so once i wasn't freezing to death, I left to grab the cough syrup off of the shelf, and a cup of instant ramen. Closest thing I could find to chicken noodle soup, and all it needed was a little hot water. We had that at the house, at least. I knew I'd get hungry again feeding her, so I snatched some cigarettes too, just to dull down the urgent pangs that had been growing in my stomach the last two weeks.

I tucked both of the items tight against my arms, and was about to leave, when the automatic doors opened.

Oh no. Was that... Batman?

I fell onto the floor and curled into a ball, begging him not to beat me up. But I knew it was no use; he hated criminals, and I was a criminal.

-

When I forced one of my eyes open, he was kneeling beside me, with the cough syrup and he noodle cup tucked into his arms. "How old are you?" He demanded gruffly.

I tried desperately not to cry, not to appear any weaker and more vulnerable than I already did. "Um..." I couldn't think of a lie, so I figured I should answer honestly. "... E-eight. I'll be nine in January."

"Yeah, I'm not beating up an eight year old. Not even if they kill someone."

I curled into myself. "A-aren't you mad at me? For... T-trying to steal?"

"I'm mad that you feel the need to." He answered. "The fact that you're out here at all, when it's this late. The fact that it's November and you don't even have a jacket on." He unsnapped his cape with one hand and draped it over me.

I hesitantly snapped it over me. It felt like that waterproof fabric umbrellas were made of, at least on the outside. The inside was fluffy and fleece-lined. "Th-thank you." I forced myself to stand up, legs shaking underneath me. "So, if you weren't looking for criminals to beat up, why were you here?"

"I was just getting some snacks for my driver and I. Running low on gas." Despite his intimidating cowel, I felt I had no choice but to believe him. "What were you doing here?"

I sighed shakily. "M-my little sister has a cold, a really bad one. I just need that medicine and soup for her, and then I'll be home again."

"I see... And why were you the one to go on this fetch quest? Where are your parents, or whoever's responsible for you?"

"My d-daddy's at home, but he... He doesn't do that kind of thing."

The man sighed. "I see. What does he do, then?"

"Um... Works, sometimes. Sleeps on the couch. Punishes us when we're bad."

His expression was hard to read with the mask on. "... What counts as 'bad'?"

I shrugged, holding myself. "I-I'm not sure. Being too loud, too quiet. Crying. Eating too much, not eating what he tells us to. Or..." I felt a chill run down my spine. "O-or telling anybody." I would be in a world of trouble when I got home.

His posture was stiff as he reached out to me. I didn't want to flinch when his hand reached my back, but I did. I didn't want to cry, but I was crying anyway.

He gently prodded me closer, and I stepped until my cheek was laying on his waist.

Eventually, he spoke again. "Would you like to come live with me?" He asked.

I did. No matter how scary he was, I'd take him over my dad any day. He seemed like he cared about me.

But...

"... I don't wanna leave her behind." I sniffled.

"You can bring her too. We'll stop at your address and let you get her, and anything else you'd like to take."

I nodded.

"There. Now, is there anything else you need from here? And please don't say cigarettes, I'm not buying an eight year old cigarettes."

I thought for a moment, before nodding. "Um, can I get a cup of hot chocolate?"

He nodded and went over to the coffee stand, which had a station for hot chocolate. I went out and picked up a lemon poppyseed muffin. It was bigger than my fist, and I silently went up to the hero I'd just met, and slipped it in with everything else.

He paid with cash, I guess to keep his secret identity a... Well... Secret, and as soon as everything was paid for, I started eating my muffin, only pausing to lift the cape over my head as we went to the parking lot. I slid into the backseat of the batmobile, my hot chocolate already in the drink holder.

"Alfred, I went ahead and got you werther's again." He held out a bag of caramel candy. "I know you like those."

"Thank you, Master Wayne." He replied. "Who's that in the backseat? Did you find yet another troubled little boy to call your own?"

"Guilty. What's your name, by the way? I never caught it."

"N-Nico." I answered. "Nico diAngelo."

"Right. Where's your old address, Nico? You said you had a sister to pick up."

I told him before shoving the last of the muffin in my mouth and sipping on the hot chocolate. "Do you have a baby seat?" I asked. "Sh-she's only two."

I watched Alfred's face scrunch in thought for a moment in the rear view mirror. "I believe so. Hold on."

He pressed a button, and suddenly, the center seat flipped out into a baby seat, built into the car. "Wow... I knew you had gadgets, but... Wow."

"Alfred?" He asked. "When did we get that installed?"

"I figured it was only a matter of time before you'd need it."

-

It wasn't long before we were at my dad's house. I quickly ducked out and snuck inside, making sure to avoid any of the floorboards that creak. Soon, I was back at my bed, where Hazel was sleeping, wrapped in my jacket. It was the closest thing she had to a baby blanket.

"baba?" She asked weakly, coughing.

I smiled. "I'm here, Hazel." I picked her up, still bundled in the jacket, and tried not to trip over the cape as I went back out again, covering both of us with Batman's waterproof cape.

I slipped in and sat her in the baby seat, pouring the little cup full of cough syrup and holding it to her mouth, but she wasn't having any of it. She fussed and cried and shook her head, but I pleaded with her anyway. "Hazy, please. It'll make you feel better."

She smacked the little cup out of my hand, crying her little lungs out.

And cough syrup splattered everywhere.

I froze. I didn't know what to say, I was horrified.

I began to hyperventilate. "Oh my god I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry, I ruined everything! The floor and the seats and... And your cape! Oh, I messed up your cape, it must've been so expensive, everything must've been so expensive and I got cough syrup all over it- I'm so sorry, please don't take us back to dad, please don't leave us in the woods, I'm sorry, I'll make up for it I promise! I-I..." I stopped talking when I heard the words 'pull over, and just curled up into myself, shaking and crying. It was no use, this was it, I've crossed the line-

"Breathe, Nico." His mask was off now, and I thought I recognized him from a magazine somewhere. "Breathe in for four seconds, alright?"

I tried to follow along, but it was hard working around the tightness in my chest.

"Alright, you're doing good. Hold it for seven seconds, can you do that?"

That was easier. I held my breath and counted to seven, looking to him for the next step.

"Now, out for eight seconds, ok kid?"

I nodded, and slowly let my breath out.

"There we go, just keep doing that until you feel better."

I looked up at him. "... How did you...?"

"Picked it up from Dr. Quinzell before she went with the circus. She was my grief counsellor way back when. I don't have panic attacks like that nearly as often anymore, but it still helps."

"Panic attack?"

"Yeah. Y'know, when you're so scared you can't breathe, or talk, or move? It feels like you're just... Frozen."

I considered his words for a moment. "... I thought that's just what being scared felt like." He looked incredibly sad just then, and I didn't understand why, but I felt like I'd done something wrong. "I'm sorry-"

"You don't have anything to apologize for. And I mean anything."

"N... N-not even spilling all the cough syrup?" I asked.

"Hey, accidents happen. That's why I have Alfred."

"And that's why I deserve a raise." He added.

"Yeah, you're getting one. Just like you got one with Grayson, and Cassie, and all the others."

He closed the door again, and went back to his seat. I began tending to Hazel, who was crying a little. I held her hand. "There we go, Hazy." I kissed her cheek. "My little hazelnut."

She cooed a little.

I kissed her chubby little baby hand, before turning back to the man who rescued me. "Who are they?" I asked.

"Hm? Oh, Cassie and Grayson? Just two of the kids I took in. My name's Bruce, by the way."

I hummed. "... How many have you taken in?" I asked.

Bruce shrugged. "Total of... Six. Or, I suppose eight now, counting you two. I'm sure you and them'll get along just fine, but we can hold off the meet and greet until you're ready. It's been a long night for you, hasn't it?"

I sighed. "Kinda, yeah."

We started moving again. I picked up my cup of hot chocolate, which was more like warm chocolate by now, and drank the last swig or so. I was lucky the syrup didn't end up inside.

-

When we reached the manor, Alfred picked Hazel up from her baby seat, and I felt my anxiety spike.

He must've noticed. "I'll make sure Madam Hazel is well taken care of." He assured me. "Trust me, I'm a professional."

I smiled a little bit. "Thank you, sir."

I got out and let him lead me to the front. He walked me down the hall, and showed me to my new room.

I laid down and sunk into the plush pillows and comforter, and I was out like a light.

-

@via-rant I've started this thing for real! You can add onto it if you want <3 We could even move it to AO3, I'll put you down as a co-creator

[trashbag-baby666]

okay okay heheheh trans cros idea

just the weekly after care period between him and bubbles after his top surgery 😭😭😭 bubbles just about chains him to the bed cause he’s always so restless and fidgety despite not being able to do much. and he brings him his meals in bed and bubbles playing nurse for him and he’s just so sweet and of course cros cries cause “you’re so sweet to me bubbles.”

oh and and and once he’s more healed bubbles helping him get dressed in a muscle tee like he always has wanted to and when he looks in the mirror at himself he breaks down but it’s cause he’s happy!!!

STAWP I LUV ALL OF THESE SM!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺

MOTA Masterlist!

But you’re right! Croz would NOT sit still the first initial week. After they’re home Bubbles gets him all tucked into bed to take a nap. But suddenly Croz is like up trying to do something else. Granted he’s a little loopy from the pain meds.

Croz is trying to find his cat and Bubbles has to wrestle him back into bed.

“Harry, what’re you doing? I left the room for five seconds.”

“I want Bitsy to cuddle.”

“We gotta go lay down and nap first, sweetie.”

Bubbles definitely helps Croz with his drains…we’re talking about Harry Crosby here just the thought of it makes hime woozy and nauseated.

By the second day he knows Croz is in a little more of a worldly pain. He wakes up before Croz and just lays next to his boy till he wakes up. He’s raking his hands through Croz’s soft, dark brown curls. He isn’t sure if he’s seen Croz actually rest this much since he passed out during SAT’s week.

When he wakes up he gets him his pain meds, helps him adjust or use this bathroom. Bubbles is there just to wait on him hand and foot but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Believe me Croz is eating Kraft Mac and cheese for each meal. It’s easy enough for Bubbles to make the cups of it in the microwave for him. There’s some emotional tears on day two from Croz😭

“Alright, here’s your Mac and cheese and I refilled your glass of water. Anything else?”

Croz stuck his bottom lip out watching Bubbles lay another blanket ontop of him tucking it around his legs. Then the hot watery tears of emotion and Croz’s pain meds are mixing.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, Harry? Anything hurt?”

“No,” he shook his head tears spilling from his eyes, “Bubs, you’re just so sweet to me.”

When Croz is cleared to shower again, Bubbles puts a step stool in the shower for him. Bubbles makes him sit there and just relax while he massages the shampoo and conditioner into his hair. He helps him shave the stubble off himself. Yeah he could do it by himself but Bubbles touch is just so silky soft. Bubbles is having a wonderful time playing nurse for Croz

What makes it all the more worth it is just seeing the pure joy and happiness across Croz’s face when he sees his chest. Bubbles agreed to take him shopping after he healed. But now that he’s wanting to wear something other than button downs and it’s been a few weeks.

Croz is standing at his closet looking through his clothes and finds a muscle shirt he had for dance. But he didn’t like the side boob action it’d give him and he kind of just tucked it away for the post top surgery days.

“Help me get dressed?”

Bubbles heart does its little flutter seeing the excited wide smile and glint in Croz’s eyes. He could never say no to those soft puppy eyes.

After he helps Croz change he walks him over to the mirror in his room and tells him to open his eyes. Croz almost loses it just right there, he’s looking from different angles and poses. Bubbles is watching excitedly seeing Croz’s pure euphoria of his flat chest. His slightly muscular dancers arms are teasing the ever loving shit out of Bubbles.

“You been working out?” He softly squeezes Crozs bicep softly.

“What are we, Buck and Bucky now?”

[fandom-space-princess]

24-hours post hysterectomy thoughts:

- my doctors said that everything went really smoothly, and my discharge nurse said that for what I had done to me I was doing amazingly well. I got released to go home about an hour and a half after waking up. Guys I did it! I got a good grade in surgery!

- today I can both eat and walk better than expected. Anaesthesia didn't make me nearly as nauseated as I was afraid it would. The incisions hurt, but not nearly as bad as cramps did. Laughing hurts. Coughing hurts. Both are tolerable though.

- it still hasn't sunk in yet that I'm really done having periods forever. FOREVER. The mind boggles. (I mean, technically I'll still have the hormonal component - I kept my ovaries. But the debilitating pain and the horrible cramps and bleeding through every pair of pants I own? Bitch byeeeeeee!)

- one of my friends congratulated me on being "no-longer-girl" which. I already wasn't. Gender does not live in an organ, especially one I no longer have. But I find that I'm inclined to feel charitably about it. She's a little confused, but she got the spirit.

- I can kind of feel where they removed the endometriosis from (the places that always hurt on the inside of my pelvic wall and near my ovaries now hurt in an interesting new way). It's freaky, but sort of a good freaky?

- I woke up in the middle of the night so dehydrated that my eyelids were stuck shut. I had to massage my eyes to get them open 😭 hydrate or diedrate has never felt like more pertinent advice. My goal today is to drink about a gallon of tea.

- what do you MEAN I never have to have a panic attack at the thought of being pregnant ever again. What do you MEAN I'm free from that hell for the rest of my life. That no matter what happens to me or what kind of bullshit politics are happening around me, I can never ever be forced into this thing that I've always feared. I still can't wrap my mind around it. It feels like such a gift.

- all the cleaning I did and little treats I bought myself and fussy adjustments to my diet and habits I made in the lead up to this all feel 100% justified right now.

[myridewaslongtoo]

actually wait. alright. the comparative analysis engine is starting to rumble. i'm feeling the intellect simmer. impromptu dracula and frankenstein analysis NOW

so the exploration of both stories is, inherently, the exploration of what it means for a human's mind to witness inhumanity right. what that inhumanity actually *means* as something to write about, to explore. this has naturally been tackled before, repeatedly, but these are sort of closer-to-modernity iterations of exploring these subjects

dracula is evil. i mean, he's pitiable in his horribleness, but he's very much onenote as an object of malice. a distortion of the human frame in that he (and vampirism in general) reflects the worst, the impulse, the excess. though intelligent the novel repeats the idea of him having a "child brain," unable to cope or ascertain reality without physical experience. his powers are used without logic, a kind of ceaseless hunger

just look at renfield, for example. he exerts a kind of philosophy about vampirism, the attribution of lives collected in something higher yet higher on the food chain, until one is finally most "superior." the implication inherent is that there will be nothing to eat besides, one day, a man. and all the spiders and birds and cats and dogs churning in his essence. it's a kind of primal attitude. the basic, the rustic, the fleshly. the closest thing dracula's protagonists get to true superstition is the power of their religion, something one could perhaps see as more "civilized" and reasonable, goodhearted.

so dracula, the vampires of dracula, are most strongly feared for their weakness. they have these powers beyond humanity, but they're not ever used for innovation in any true sense. dracula is a thing that can be feared for his ingenuity, how he has broken the stagnancy of his cold dead mind, but he is very intentionally a mask of life over a corpse. all that he is is want. this is a reading a little informed by nosferatu (2024) but the original novel still spells out these themes pretty strikingly i'd say

vampires, in dracula, are red-eyed mirrors, corrupted yet desirable, something heinous but undoubtedly *wanted* by some little part of you. the morals of the story, then, are to trust in purer and more reasonable things, understanding the power that the coming century gives human beings. the light that gives them meaning. to be a vampire is to have your beauty ripped away for the sake of fragile and pathetic immortality, desirous impulse

then there's frankenstein. but this is about the monster, isn't it, and those two *do* so often get confused. there's a deeper conceptual lining for that, i think. let me explain

the monster in frankenstein is tragic. he's wretched, feeling, and alive. he's alive when he shouldn't be, as an assimilation of death and decay. but his nature, inherently, isn't one of death. he feels anew, he feels real. just before frankenstein creates his monster, he muses to himself on the fact that there may be something to miss in the purity of a *lack* of knowledge. this gets into original sin and all, but regardless the conception of a world without language, connection, and the hardship that exists with it. an understanding of the world without what we feel always burdens us, destroys us, depresses us.

but it's just a thought, for the doctor.

the monster is a funhouse mirror, a warped depiction of a human. we look at him and are nauseated by his unnatural features, his grotesque mockery. he is abandoned, tormented, and outcast. he is a man, men, made a creature. to be so hatefully rejected when this is the world that brought you into it

but this is about how people relate to inhumanity. so how does the doctor relate to the monster? he takes responsibility, of course, in a twisted sense. he refuses all real paternal obligation, is sickened by it, but the monster is still something placed upon his back. again and again its murders, made to torment him, are something he bears upon his back. he quite literally calls them his own machinations, his own borne fruit, which does eventually end up *imprisoning him.* it starts with the blame of others (resulting in their legal death) for the monster's crimes, then frankenstein, then it finally comes all around

the monster and the doctor do, at the end of the day, have a bond. it is compared by both to a master and a slave. the doctor thinks himself enslaved by the threats and murders of the monster, shackled by his own creation, bound inexorably into a vortex of grief and ruination. the monster thinks himself one now truly, a wretched creature bound by his own desire for retribution against a world that loathes him, enslaved to the impulse of revenging upon his doctor, his master, his creator. they become meaningless, the same, and as what animates the monster is revenge against his creator, the doctor only lives for revenge against his creation.

when one shuts their eyes, when one cannot see, they do not loathe the monster. they hear his words, reasonable and astoundingly articulate, and they only know him for this. it is only when it is seen, all the imperfections of one man's attempts to assume godhood, all the horror of seeing a man for how powerful and animalistic he might really be, that the monster is flung out.

there is something essentially beastly about frankenstein's monster, and about count dracula. they have powers beyond men, strength beyond them. they represent a kind of fear of what might lie inside us, the curdled forms of our now spoiled milk. where dracula informs us so totally of our virtue and how we might defend it from the night's instinctual depredations, however, the monster dwells. it wonders if there is kindness in crudity. to ask us: if to be introduced to civilization, humanity, and all it is traumatizes a creature so deeply, crushes its innocent bliss, what does that really say about us? if we can create so damnable a criminal, so lonely a being?

dracula ends with the count being slain, a footnote in the broader story. for a moment, there is peace in his foul expression. there is freedom, and then there is nothing. the world is purified, again, of a taint that nearly overtook it. there is more ahead for nearly all those that faced against him, and even those that perished are remembered for their nobility. victory

frankenstein ends with the destruction of the doctor and the monster. the doctor claims spirits aid him through his travel, his pursuit of the monster, giving him meals, giving him rejuvenating rain. yet all that listens to him is his creation, the only one joyous at his oath of revenge is his creature. when he is dead, the monster mourns. and he goes, then, to die, burnt alive at some far northern pole. and no more will anyone remember them, not either

(i should probably read dr jekyll and mr hyde)