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puckinghischier · 3 days ago

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Dogtooth

jack hughes x fem!reader

WARNING - SMUT!!! minors, DNI. 18+. oral!female receiving, face riding

summary: just a lil jack thot inspired by the song dogtooth by tyler, the creator

notes: this is just a repost of the little jack blurb i posted last night, i just wanted to reformat it so it’d fit in my masterlist better. but!! this is probably my favorite jack thing i’ve ever written and i’m obsessed with this song so, hope you enjoy!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[2.3k]

dogtooth by tyler, the creator?? that song is soooooo jack coded.

it’s the right kind of cocky but also the perfect amount of loving his woman, which is exactly how i picture jack to be in a relationship.

he’s a pretty private guy, not enjoying being in the media too much and revealing a ton about his personal life. he hates media because he doesn’t like the feeling of people assuming they know everything about him. but his girl? she knows everything about this man and he basks in the fact she knows him better than anyone else.

and when he’s down for someone? oh he’s down baddddd. i mean, pining level shit. he always wants to be around her. always calling her. always texting her. he just wants her attention 24/7, no matter what he has to do to get it.

he loves to pleasure his girl. and that’s it, really. he loves any second he can spend making her feel good, any way she wants. he doesn’t even care about the reciprocation (though he does love when she returns the favor) because knowing he’s the one to satisfy her needs is enough to put him on cloud nine all by itself.

and the second jack hears this song for the first time? oh he’s got big plans for it. (and you)

you’d be sitting on the couch, waiting on jack to get home from a mid-day skate. he sent you a text telling you he was leaving the rink around thirty minutes ago, expecting him to walk through the door any second.

no sooner than the thought entered your mind, you heard the lock click, signaling his arrival. calling out a greeting, you’re met with silence. you turn your body to see why he’s ignoring you, noticing the small white ear buds stuck in each ear.

he sets his bag down at the door, no doubt filled with his sweat soiled clothes he wants you to wash. waiting on him to look up and acknowledge you, you lay your head on the plush cushions resting against the back of the couch. you watch him, never missing an opportunity to admire how pretty he is.

finally, he looks up and meets your gaze, smiling at your love-filled eyes. he pops one headphone out while walking towards you, rolling it around in his hand.

“hey, sweets,” he leans down to place a small kiss on your waiting lips.

you savor the taste of his lips, always loving their soft feel.

“tried to say hi when you walked in, but guess you couldn’t hear me,” you gesture to the one earbud still lodged in one of his ears.

he gives you a small, apologetic look. “sorry, found a new song i really like. think you will too, actually. made me think about you.”

grabbing his phone from his pocket with his free hand, the one that’s holding the small bluetooth device brushes your hair away from your own ear, comfortably resting the earbud there.

“here’s the thing though….i want you to ride my face while we listen,” he just casually tells you, not even looking up at your face, still fiddling with his phone.

you perk up, surprised at his casualness. “i- what?”

“you heard me, before i press play i want you to ride my face.”

said face in question is dead serious, not an ounce of mischief to be found.

“you…literally just walked through the front door. what happened to asking each other about our days? or discussing what we’re gonna eat for dinner?” you ask him, not knowing how to react to the sudden proposal.

he rolls his eyes playfully. “is this your way of telling me you don’t want to? because you don’t have to. just think it’d really add to the experience, s’all” he shrugs.

you still don’t know how to react to the pure casualness of it all. by the way he’s acting you’d think he’s suggesting watching a movie, not having you ride his face in the middle of the living room.

“i didn’t say i didn’t want to. it’s just a little wild for that to be one of the first things out of your mouth when you get home.”

jack snickers at your words, walking around the large sectional to occupy the spot next to you.

“not really. not for me, at least. been thinking about it all day,” he plops down beside of you, making himself comfortable.

his words shoot excitement down to your core. he’s been thinking about it all day?

before you can think of a response, you feel shuffling next to you on the plush couch. you look over to see jack laying flat on his back, head only slightly raised to look over at you expectantly.

“so, you gonna get rid of those shorts or what?” he asks, referencing your thin, cotton pajama bottoms.

“i swear to god, if i wasn’t turned on right now i’d slap you,” you grumble, standing and removing all clothing below your waist.

jack laughs a real, out loud, laugh this time, prideful in the fact that you’ve never really been able to (or wanted to) resist any of his offers.

he burrows his body further into the couch, making sure he’s in the middle of the large surface, ensuring there’s room for your knees to rest on either side of his head.

you climb to hover over his body, looking down at his hungry eyes that are glued to your bare pussy, following every movement of your body from that landmark.

“shirt off or on?” you ask him, sitting on his toned abdomen.

“off. wanna be able to play with your boobs, please,” he flicks his eyes up to your face, an innocent smile on his own as he bats his eyelashes.

“of course you do,” you remove your (his) t-shirt from your body, now completely bare as you sit on top of him.

“swear they get bigger every time i see them,” he says in awe, bringing a hand up to massage one of your full breasts. you moan as he kneads the flesh, stomach turning flips in anticipation of what’s about to take place.

“gonna press play so we can get started or you just gonna play with my tits all night?” you huff out, loving the feeling but growing needier by the second.

it takes jack a second to register what you’re saying, too lost in the feeling of the heavy skin in his hand.

“oh! yeah, almost forgot,” he reaches up to the back of the couch where he left his phone, picking it up long enough to press play.

you scoot yourself farther up his body, resting your eager core right above his chin. all you’d have to do is relax your thighs the slightest amount to make contact with his mouth.

suddenly you hear a smooth beat ring out in one ear, assuming jack’s hearing the same.

the second you hear the lyrics “she could ride my face i don’t want nothing in return” pour out of the earbud, jack inched his face up, licking a long, deep stripe through your folds.

you allow yourself to relax, sliding your slick pussy back and forth gently, not wanting to rush.

jack’s nose brushes your clit with every movement. you sigh at the feeling, not realizing how much you needed the friction until now.

the melody in your ear continues, but none of the lyrics are registering anymore. the feeling of jack’s tongue working through you takes every ounce of your attention.

“god, fuck! jack, best idea ever,” you moan out, picking up your pace slightly.

jack groans, letting his tongue still for a moment, allowing you to work yourself over it as you please.

fighting through the bliss radiating throughout your body, you try to focus on the lyrics at least a little bit. the chorus starts repeating, but the lyrics that follow make your head fuzzy in the best way.

“she could ride my face i don’t want nothin’ in return, except for some her time and all her love, that’s my concern” is what you focus on, the words squeezing your heart and your cunt.

jack smirks into your pussy when he hears you moan, knowing exactly which lyrics elicited the reaction from your body. you’ve always been the type to get off on the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear while he fucks into you, so he knew that line in particular would be especially helpful while his mouth is otherwise occupied.

your pace increases again as the song continues on, already halfway to your release.

jack brings his hands up to hold you still, your hole mere centimeters from his waiting tongue. he guides you to lower yourself onto the muscle, encouraging a slight bobbing motion of your body.

with every depression of your cunt onto his tongue, your clit bumps onto the tip of his nose. the pressure is a delicious form of teasing, the sensation gone nearly as soon as it’s felt each time.

“please, touch me. need you to touch me, jack. so so close,” you pant out, feeling the familiar swirl of your climax forming already.

jack grunts in response, the vibrations sending waves all throughout your body and you’re convinced you can feel it in your toes.

his hands leave your hips, traveling up your body until they find your sensitive buds, pinching and playing with each pink, taut nipple.

you jolt a bit, the motion causing your clit to slam against his nose this time. you cry out at all of the various sensations all at once. full with his tongue, rough hands on your tits, and round nose scraping against your clit.

the pure stimulation of it all forces your orgasm out of you, slamming into your body with the force of a train.

“fuck!” you scream, quickly shooting a hand out to grip the back of the couch, trying to stop yourself from collapsing on jack’s face completely.

you can barely hear the words “she can ride my face i don’t want nothin’ in return, and will i ever fall in love again? i can’t confirm,” ring through your ear, the soundtrack to your release, literally.

jack continues to work his tongue in and out of your hole while you shake and convulse above him, having to chase your entrance as you move. he continues to knead your sensitive breasts, each squeeze sending small volts through your already spent nerves.

he can feel your release dripping onto his cheeks, chin, and nose. he tries to lap up as much as he can, not wanting to miss a drop of your liquid pleasure.

your taste alone was enough to form the wet spot on his grey sweats, not embarrassed in the slightest he’s literally leaking from how turned on he is. but when he looks up at you above him, skin damp and eyes half rolled into the back of your head, mixed with the feeling of your body tightening around his tongue so harshly he can’t even pull it out, he blows his load right then and there.

he can feel the last flutters of your walls around his tongue, not stopping his movements until you pull back, having half a mind to keep going and work another orgasm out of your sensitive state. he moans through his own unprompted release, the only thing keeping him from following his sudden impulse to overstimulate you.

once the tired muscles in your thighs stop shaking, and your breath evens out, you can hear the fading of the music in your ear, signaling the end of the song. you push up slightly on your knees, detaching yourself from jack’s mouth as he chases your now swollen cunt, a small whine escaping him at the action.

“jack…the song’s over,” you manage the words somehow, in awe that he made you come in only a single song’s length.

“i can hit replay,” he rushes out, already reaching to grab his phone again.

you squeak out a slightly panicked “no,” while shaking your head, worried if he started again you might actually explode. you let yourself relax fully, scooting back so you can rest yourself on his lower abdomen once again, but the feeling of something wet stops you.

jerking back up, you turn and look down, spotting the large, wet stain on his sweatpants. you can’t stop staring at it, wondering if you’re really looking at what you think you’re looking at.

“jack…did you…” you trail off, turning back around to look at him.

he smirks as he leans himself up on his elbows. “sure did, sweets. you have no clue how much i enjoyed that.”

you laugh at his pride filled face. “pretty sure i do, seeing as i just sat on the evidence.”

he simply shrugs, patting your bare ass lightly to signal you to stand. you swing your legs over his body, standing and bending over to pick up your discarded underwear and slide it back up your legs.

“so….about that dinner conversation,” you ask him as he stands, suddenly way hungrier than you were when he first got home.

it’s his turn to laugh at you, walking over and removing the now silent earbud from your ear.

“whatever you want is fine with me. i already ate,” he gives you a kiss on the forehead then turns to walk towards the bedroom.

“oh…not even right, you dick,” you huff, following it with telling him you’re ordering his least favorite take out, a punishment for his sass.

making your way to the kitchen to dig through the different take out menus, you hear jack shout your name once again.

“i was thinking, how do you feel about that being our wedding song?” he asks, poking his now shirtless, but clean sweats clad, figure out of the bedroom door.

“jack!” you shout, scolding him as his loud cackle rings out around you, causing your own amused smile to break out on your face.

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wonderjanga · 2 days ago

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Warfare

You see, Marvel’s mentioned the Wisdom of Solomon before. The JL never really thought much about it. As a result, the JL just thinks Marvel has all these… interesting ideas but just never says anything about them. Though, there are a couple times the ideas are actually voiced. (They don’t know Billy is just parroting whatever Solomon or occasionally another God with tell him)

Like the time Batman and Marvel got stranded on a planet that was stuck in the middle of war. They were promised

Rebel Leader: “Do either of you have any ideas to bring to the table?”

Batman: “No. Marvel?”

Marvel: “Huh? Oh uh… well I could magic a plague into the water near them. You said they’re using it for their water source, right? Then, when they’re weak, we can go around and take them out.” *sounds hesitant*

Batman: “Hmm… That could be a good idea, but what sort of plague are we talking about?”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “What.”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “Marvel, that’s fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “Well, if we’re quick, it we can get to them before they die.”

Batman: *stares for a bit, holding back a sigh* “We don’t even know if Cholera will affect their biology the same way it does humans.”

Rebel Leader: “What is this Cholera?”

Batman: “It’s a deadly waterborne disease.”

Rebel Leader: “I see… And you’re unsure whether it will work with our physiology… might I propose a different disease?”

So yes, biological warfare, that’s our first thing. Batman proceeded to spend a lot of time convincing the Rebel Leader not to nearly kill an entire group of people with their version of Cholera.

Then there was the time Bruce and Marvel were working together and got held up in a shootout at a lab.

Marvel: *looking at the various chemicals in the lab* “Gosh, I remember my first exposure to chlorine gas.” *getting nostalgic* (He’s from the 1940s in this one, guys)

Batman: “You’ve been exposed to chlorine gas?”

Marvel: “Yeah, and let me tell you, those dang Nazis were horrified when it didn’t work on me. Don’t worry though, we’re gonna be making mustard gas instead.”

Batman: “Captain, we are not doing that.”

Marvel: “Why? We have all the available ingredients.”

Batman: “Marvel.” *puts a hand on his shoulder* “Mustard gas can be fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “My bad.”

*more silence*

Batman: “Is this why you always let others plan?”

Marvel: “Are you gonna look at me weird if I say yes?”

Batman: “Hn.” (Translation: Yes, but it won’t be visible through my cowl)

This incident checks chemical warfare off the list. Bruce is now concerned as to why most of Marvel’s ideas are either nearly fatal or just fatal.

Then there was the time Marvel went undercover with Bruce Wayne, not Batman for whatever reason. They then got attacked by pirates while on a ship trying to gather information about some supervillain.

Bruce and Marvel: *taken cover under a table while the pirates fire cannon balls at them*

Bruce: “Any ideas?” *peaks over the cover only for a cannonball to whiz right past his head*

Marvel: “I think I have one. So here’s what I’m thinking. I take out their mast, steal all their oars, and then push them out to sea and let them drift wherever.

Bruce: “That’s… Intense. Wouldn’t they starve if you just let them drift?”

Marvel: “I guess. If they’re not saved, I mean.”

Bruce: *stares with the most deadpan face* “How about I come up with a plan instead?”

Marvel: “You got it boss.”

And last but not least, the physical warfare.

By the way, Billy doesn’t know Bruce is the Bat. No, no, no, he just thinks the guy is someone Batman wants him to work with. He was a little surprised to see the dude act all brooding like Mr. Batman when he had heard from others that he was a party boy. Oh well, not his business. Meanwhile, Bruce doesn’t know Marvel thinks he’s just interacting with a capable civilian.

That last part was inspired by @helps-the-writing-brain-go’s reblog of this post. Thanks for letting me write with your idea :)

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #batman #bruce wayne

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goldfades · 2 days ago

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❝ 𝐚𝐟𝐜 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐬, burrow. ❞

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you give joe his own celebration after winning.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | NSFW! minors pls dni. plot w/ smut, messy head sesh (joe receiving), cigar mentions, praise and um... nothing else? pretty self indulgent.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | if you guys enjoy this i might just write more for joe 🫣 if you guys have any requests, my inbox is open rn!

The crowd is electric, buzzing with that rare, palpable energy that comes only when an entire city feels the taste of victory on its tongue.

The stadium lights are still blazing, casting a golden glow over the field, and you can see Joe, helmet off, hair slightly mussed from the game. He looks different tonight—not the quiet, calculating Joe who keeps everything just below the surface. This version of him stands tall, eyes sharp, taking it all in with a sly, almost cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You’re swept up in the energy as he walks towards you, chest out, shoulders loose, like he owns the night. His usual restraint is nowhere to be found; every bit of him is reveling in this moment, and it’s as if he knows exactly how everyone is looking at him, yourself included.

The cheers and the chanting blur together, and you feel your pulse match the beat of the stadium around you. He's coming closer, that rare glint in his eye—the kind that says he knows he's good, and tonight, he’s not hiding it. He reaches you, and before you can even say anything, his hands find your hips, pulling you in with a confidence that’s both unexpected and thrilling.

Joe isn’t usually one for public displays, especially after a game when he’s all focus and steady composure, but tonight is different. Tonight, he’s every bit the champion and you can see it in the way he looks at you, like he’s not just savoring the win but the whole world in his hands.

Without a second thought, he cups your face, his touch warm and firm, and his lips crash into yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. The kiss is fierce, almost possessive, and your heart skips a beat as you realize he doesn’t care that everyone’s watching—that someone, somewhere, probably has their phone out recording this very moment. He’s completely wrapped up in you, and for this one fleeting moment, you’re the only thing that exists.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a smudge of your lipstick on his lips, unmistakable and bold, and he’s got that cocky grin again, wider this time, unbothered by the smear of color. His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping away a trace of lipstick, his eyes sparking with that rare, unabashed pride.

"Guess I’m taking home two trophies tonight," he murmurs, his voice low, just for you.

His hand stays on your hips, grounding you as you’re both swept up in the exhilaration of the night. The crowd, the lights, the whole stadium could disappear, and it still wouldn’t matter. Joe doesn’t care about anything else—he’s made that clear.

━━━━━

The club pulses with energy, dark and sleek, lit by flashes of neon lights and thrumming to the bass-heavy beat of music that vibrates up through the floor. The exclusive afterparty is alive with players, coaches, friends, and the lucky few who managed an invite, and you can feel the buzz of victory in the air. It’s thick with the thrill of the win, the endless energy of a city that hasn’t been able to stop talking about Joe and the team since last year’s championship.

Joe’s beside you, his hand never leaving your back as he navigates through the crowd, and he’s still got that spark in his eyes. There’s a looseness to him tonight—a magnetic energy that draws everyone in. He’s in his element, basking in it, tossing back easy laughs with his teammates, tossing friendly jabs at anyone who dares question the next championship he has in mind. Every time someone congratulates him, he pulls you closer, and even though he usually keeps things more private, tonight feels like a night for breaking his own rules.

You’re holding onto his arm, laughing along with him, when his teammate Sam catches sight of the lipstick stain that still lingers faintly on Joe’s mouth.

He raises a brow, grinning wide, and elbows Joe. "Looks like the MVP’s got more than a trophy tonight," Sam jokes, his voice teasing but warm.

Joe doesn’t even bother to wipe it off. Instead, he smirks, pulling you closer with a shrug that radiates easy confidence. "Best accessory, don’t you think?" he says, voice low but loud enough to carry over the music, and his arm slides around your waist, holding you against him like he doesn’t plan on letting go.

You laugh, leaning into him as he glances down at you, that cocky spark in his eyes making your pulse race. Joe has always been cool, confident, but tonight there’s something different about him—a unrestrained pride that makes you feel like you’re standing in the middle of something unforgettable.

“Careful,” you tease, looking up at him, your voice playful. “Keep that attitude up, and they’re going to start thinking you’re actually enjoying the attention.”

He chuckles, a low sound that only you can hear. “Guess I might be, just a little,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “It’s not every day you get to win back-to-back championships. Gotta let myself enjoy it for once, right?”

Before you can answer, Ja’Marr sidles up beside him, grinning from ear to ear. He’s got that same victorious look in his eyes and you can tell he’s been looking forward to this moment just as much as Joe has. Reaching into his pocket, Ja’Marr pulls out a fat cigar, extending it to Joe with a knowing smirk.

“Time for a victory smoke, QB,” Ja’Marr says, his voice light but laced with pride. “You earned it.”

Joe takes the cigar, turning it over in his hands as if considering it, then lets out a low, appreciative laugh. He glances at you with a grin. “Guess we’re going all out tonight, huh?”

You nod, leaning up to kiss his cheek, and his hand finds your waist again as he turns back to Ja’Marr. “Thanks, man,” Joe says, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Ja’Marr shakes his head, feigning modesty. “Nah, tonight’s all you, bro. I just happened to be along for the ride.” He steps back, lifting his own glass in a toast, and the whole crew around you does the same, echoing the sentiment as they raise their drinks.

“To Joey,” Ja’Marr calls, his voice carrying over the music. “And to running this city two years straight!”

The crowd roars in agreement, and Joe raises the cigar in salute before flashing that unrestrained smile again, lighting it up with a satisfied exhale. He takes a slow, deliberate drag, letting the smoke curl lazily from his lips as he relaxes back against the booth, pulling you close beside him.

“You know,” he says, glancing at you with a grin that’s both relaxed and intoxicatingly self-assured, “could get used to this whole king-of-the-city thing. But only if you’re here with me.”

“Think I could make that work,” you reply, smiling as you tuck yourself against him, his arm solid and warm around you.

Joe leans back in the booth, his arm still looped around you, his blue eyes sharp and unmistakably bold as he exhales a long, lazy stream of smoke. There’s a cocky tilt to his mouth, something magnetic that holds your gaze, and when he catches you staring, that grin only deepens.

“You look a little too comfortable holding court like this,” you say, smirking, leaning into him just enough that your knee brushes his.

He gives you a look that makes your stomach flip, tilting his head as he takes another drag from the cigar, never breaking eye contact. “I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, just loud enough for you to hear over the noise.

The way he says it, like he owns the moment—and maybe you, too—sends a thrill down your spine. You lift your chin, refusing to look away, feeling the tension spark like electricity between you.

“You sure you can handle the attention?” you challenge, arching a brow. “I don’t remember you being one for the spotlight.”

“Oh, I can handle it,” he replies, voice dripping with confidence. He leans in, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, his lips a mere breath away from yours. “Question is, can you?”

His eyes are dark, daring, and you feel his hand press against your waist, fingers brushing the bare skin where your shirt rides up slightly. The club is hot, noisy, and every beat of the music seems to pulse between you, building the tension.

Before you can answer, he leans in even closer, his mouth hovering by your ear. “Because from where I’m sitting,” he murmurs, “you’re looking at me like you’re ready to break a few of my rules tonight.”

━━━━━

And that's how you ended up back at the hotel, on your knees, looking up at Joe like he was the only thing that mattered. The room is quiet now, a stark contrast to the pulsing energy of the club, but the silence makes everything feel sharper, more charged. The dim lights cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the confidence that radiates off him with every breath, every small movement.

He’s standing there, looking down at you, his eyes dark, studying you with that intensity that makes your heart race. There’s a cocky, satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips—a hint of pride that you can’t help but want to unravel. You can see the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his breathing steady, controlled, even though you know he’s feeling every second of this as much as you are.

Joe’s hand lingers on your face, tilting your chin up just a bit more as he watches you, his eyes tracing every detail like he wants to commit it to memory.

Your hands worked on his belt as he let out a quiet groan and he doesn’t stop you, lets you take control for a moment, and the way his breath catches in his chest makes something inside you stir. He’s always the confident one, the one who stays in control, but tonight, in this space, everything feels different. It’s like he’s giving you the freedom to move, to touch, to test just how far you can push him.

“God,” he mutters, his hand sliding from your face to the back of your neck, his fingers curling just lightly around it, like he’s marking his place, claiming it without saying a word. His thumb gently strokes over your skin, sending a pulse of heat through you as you finish loosening his belt.

The moment the buckle comes free, you pull him closer, your fingers tracing his waistband as you look up at him, your lips just a breath away from where he needed you most. His chest rises and falls rapidly now, a sign that you’re getting to him, that the tension is starting to break.

He leans down slightly, his breath hot against your ear, voice low and rough. “You know, you could make me forget the whole damn night with just a single move.”

You smile, a slow, teasing thing, as you drag your hands down to his bulge, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten in anticipation. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a dare, but you don’t rush, taking your time, letting every moment hang between you like a promise. The way he’s watching you, waiting for your next move, only makes the tension between you more intense.

Joe’s gaze darkens even more, the intensity turning almost possessive as his hand sliding into your hair again, gently pulling you up to meet his lips in a kiss that’s every bit as hungry and desperate as it is passionate. He’s pulling you closer and you can feel the weight of him, the heat of his body, as he presses you back on the floor.

“You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he breathes against your lips, his voice low, full of need. The way he says it, like he can’t hold back, makes you ache with want. He falls back on a chair behind him, his eyes full of need. You know exactly what he wants as he spreads his thighs.

“Come on, baby. Give me what I want,” he urges breathlessly as you find your way in between his thighs.

Your hands slide back to his thighs, fingers brushing against the hard lines of his body, and you can feel his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes.

You finally pull off his underpants, freeing his hardened length. He lets out a breath as his hand pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Joe doesn't wait any longer, he pushes you downward until your lips meet his warm tip.

“Taking your time, huh?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, a hint of impatience flickering in his eyes as he watches every movement you make. There’s a slight smirk on his lips, but it fades quickly as you press a little closer, opening your mouth to finally take him.

He lets out a guttural groan as his grip tightens in your hair. The taste of him is intoxicating, you couldn't help but let out a sound of your own. Your lips wrap around his thick cock effortlessly, taking him slowly.

Joe wasn't in the slow mood, though. His grip in your hair didn't loosen as he began moving your head in his own accord, your muffled moans egging him on. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag as your fingers scratched his thigh instinctively.

“That's it, baby,” he groaned breathlessly. “Take my cock, just like that.”

Your jaw was already sore, your chin was dripping with a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum but somehow you still relished in this. Your eyes were watering as you tried to keep them open, watching Joe's every expression and hearing every sound. Every praise that left his mouth spurred you on, your mouth sliding up and down his wet cock.

And despite the mess you've made, Joe still thought you were the sexiest woman alive. He couldn't look at you any longer, because he swore he would just cum at the mere sight. You slipped off his cock, your tongue flicking his tip as you caught your breath. You slowly took him back in, humming at the feeling of being so full.

His hand tightened in your hair as his head fell back on the chair, his mouth slightly open as he groaned. “Oh fuck, yeah. Keep going,” he grunted. “Gonna cum, fuck.”

Before you could even react, his cum filled your mouth as you moaned around his cock. You tried your best to swallow all of it before you slipped off, your chest rising up and down. Looking up at Joe, he wore a fucked-out expression, all his previous cockiness had softened into something raw and unguarded.

His head is tilted back against the chair, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he tries to catch his breath, his gaze finding yours with a look that’s equal parts amazement and satisfaction. The flicker of dim hotel light casts shadows across his face, highlighting his features in a way that makes him look almost softer, stripped down to just Joe, without the bravado and the public image.

He lets out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair, which is now mussed and a little wild. “Think you just ruined me,” he murmurs, voice still thick, a slight rasp lingering from the exertion.

His hand reaches down, fingers grazing your shoulder before sliding up to brush against your cheek, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he takes in every inch of you with that slightly dazed, contented gaze.

You smile, a satisfied warmth spreading through you as you sit back, watching him collect himself, looking at him in this quiet, vulnerable moment. “Maybe I just wanted to see if I could,” you reply, voice raspy with an edge of pride. You know the effect you’ve had on him, and the thrill of it lingers in the air between you, sparking like the last remnants of a fire.

Joe chuckles, his fingers trailing lightly along your jaw, then down to your chin, where he tilts your face up to meet his eyes fully. “Oh, trust me,” he says, his gaze darkening again, though now softened with something deeper, “you’ve got me right where you want me.” He leans forward, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost tender kiss that lingers longer than you expect, as if he wants to savor the moment. He could taste himself on your tongue, making his ego skyrocket.

For a minute, neither of you speaks. There’s just the sound of your breaths mingling, his other hand slips up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and he gives you this look that makes your heart race all over again, even after everything that just happened.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#nfl imagine #nfl football #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow #joeyb #cincinnati football #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fluff

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unlikelycupcaketrash · 1 day ago

Text

You want more?

I gotchu

(It’s all Danny and Lancer with the Waynes crack) (probably)

New rare pare just dropped??? Why do I kinda love Bruce/lancer

what is Mr lancers first name?? *one google search later* we don’t know but it starts with an L :/

I dub thee: Lucas

Lucas “Luke” Lancer (hell yeah, alliteration!)

So anyway Tim and Danny meet and are suspicious of each others odd behavior but ultimately end up with a more or less “I don’t ask questions about where you sneak off to and your spontaneously unimportant injuries and you don’t ask about me and mine yeah? Alr.” Type relationship, and actually hang out a lot.

The first few times Tim asked Danny about that Danny would always say that “you haven’t unlocked enough of my backstory” and move on. Tim doesn’t like this but he gave up on trying because he cant find anything weird about his paper trail and Danny’s a chill guy so it’s probably fine, I mean it not like he’s a vigilante right?

In the show his top speed was 112 mph so ima say he keeps improving his speed as he goes back n forth from Gotham to amity because let’s be so fr Valarie is handling most of the ghosts but there are some nights where it gets too much and she hast to call in backup, and by some nights I mean twice a month at least. What can I say? Amity park ghosts are mean and don’t care about your education

After Jason gets back whatever plot shenanigans you want make it so that lancer is checking up on Danny at the same time Jason has to pick up Tim for whatever and Jason recognizes Lucas but he doesn’t recognize jay yet (he will later), see where I’m going with this? Ok so they get talking (the literature nerds) and Jason decides to double down on shipping Luke with Bruce. Bruce could seriously use the normal and positive influence and hey he’s good with kids so why not? It’ll be funny!

How could he do this the most efficiently, effectively and flamboyantly?? A gala probably, but first Bruce and lancer need to be to the level of friends where they would interact/maybe even seek each other out at a high society event, so *sigh* I guess he’s going to have to invite Danny and lancer to a family dinner or something, but he’s not close enough to either of them do do that without it being weird! His whole plan is falling apart!

Oh Timmy!!!!!~~ has Jason ever mentioned that your his favorite brother?? and he’ll give you his desert at the monthly family dinners for three months if you do this one little thing for him?

So Danny ends up being invited to a Wayne dinner and oh Mr. Lancer you come in too, you came all this way, we insist! (He realizes Jason is Jason Wayne at the dinner btw)

Tim is floundering around Danny because this is the first time Danny looks well rested and with actually styled but also messy hair and what the fuck that’s his roommate! He has no right to look this cute! Tim can see his freckles instead of the ever-present eye-bags and-! wait what why is his heart beating so fast, he’s been trained by the bat! A cute boy should not be able to affect him as much as it is. He need to do some more heart rate exercises because why is Danny so cute all of a sudden and maybe it’s one of his meta powers? No they’re roommates, they live together, he would’ve noticed, and now he’s spiraling but he can’t really stop and-

Bruce is similarly struggling but he can deal with it by being such a clueless bimbo and tired dad because why are so many of his kids here? It’s not even the monthly dinner yet? Is it because of Danny and Lucas? It probably is, he should invite them over more, jay is here and talking passionately about whatever lit thing with Lucas and he will totally invite Luke over more, I mean see how much he cares about his kids? Gah he’s just so perfect- wait what?

DCxDP: The Roomate

Despite all their madness, it's no secret in Amity Park that the Fentons are certified geniuses. When Maddie and Jack Fenton first move to town, they are all anyone can talk about.

Maddie was well known among women because, at the time, women in STEM were rare, and it was even rarer for them to actually gain recognition for their efforts. Her work, confusing to most of the public, meant a lot to the women in Amity Park.

Before she arrived, she had been featured in three separate magazines: one for science, another for sponsoring a scholarship for STEM women, and the last for her inventions of self-defense accessories to arm young women. Yes, most didn't know about her until they learned that she was moving into their small town, but that was beside the point.

Her husband was a little less known, but it came as no surprise that he was also said to be rumored as a well-educated man. He had two PhDs. Two.

At the time, almost everyone in Amity Park had a high school diploma, the highest degree level of the masses. Sure, some well-off families could send their children four towns away to the closest college, but it was rare.

It was also a privilege—a means to show off at the annual street market, where the proud mothers would smugly describe their children's dorm rooms or majors to the tightly smiling neighbors.

In the early eighties, having a higher education made people appear more respected, and here was Jack Fenton, a man who had two Ph.D.s and was rumored to be working on his third. The man who had bought out the old Steward faculty building by the main street was having a crew removed into a home/laboratory.

Everyone buzzed for weeks about the new neighbors, and sharing any new details about them was exciting. It may be strange to people outside their little town, but with a population size of at least five thousand (at least in the eighties when the Fentons arrived. and the population grew well into the thousands when Axion Labs was built), news of changes was rare and few in between.

Amity Park didn't have big-shot names on their roads, much less stay to live. Heck, they only recently started getting a carnival to go by, and that was at least seventeen years since the Fentons moved in.

So, it was no surprise that Fenton's daughter showed just as large a brain as she did. Yes, the Fentons were less academic types than they were expecting, showing a rather odd obsession with the paranormal, but no one could deny their ability to build anything.

The Fenton boy was the only one who didn't live up to the family name. Danny was on the right path until Freshman year, when his grade rapidly dropped to the bottom of his class, he vanished for hours on end and went into destructive fits randomly.

He has been found among enough rooms ripped apart to know that Fenton was out of control. School staff spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Fenton often, and the two parents genuinely seemed to take their conversations to heart, attempting to instill better behavior within Danny.

Nothing seems to work. No grounding, detentions, community work, or group meetings seem to get through the boy's head. The Fentons were at their wit's end with their youngest. Mrs. Fenton, fretting that her son had never behaved like this.

Then, ghost attacks started appearing around the same time to make things worse. While the town laughed at them at first, everyone quickly realized the Fentons were one of the few who could provide defense against the ghosts. Throughout more and more attacks, the people started to defer to the Fentons in times of crisis.

The people who once booed them now rallied around them, and it took no time for everyone to acknowledge that the Fentons were now among the highest in the town's social ladder.

That came with some benefits.

"Are you sure this would help Danny?" Maddie asks, staring at the pamphlet in obvious doubt.

"Mrs. Fenton, I assure you that I would not have recommended Daniel for the program if I didn't think it would help him," Mr. Lancer responds with great patience. "It is apparent that he is dealing with something that needs more support than the school staff can provide."

"But to send him away?" Jack cuts in, looking close to tears.

"Don't think of it as sending him away. Think of it as putting him in an environment that can help him. Frankly, Daniel is struggling here. He's been having more and more destructive fits, his teachers have noticed he's paying less and less attention in class, and a few students have even approached me saying he seems to be hiding weapons in his bag."

"Weapons?" Maddie gasps. "Our Danny?"

"Rest assured, we have done searches and investigations as these accusations are not accepted without reason. Daniel does not seem to have any on him, but I worry he may be facing severe bullying if children were willing to lie about something so serious." Mr. Lacner sooth swiftly. He sighed, leaning back in his seat as neither adult looked particularly happy by his words. "The staff and I attempt to step in when we can, but bullies always find ways to slip past us. For example, bothering him off campus. I just think Daniel will be better away from those causing him harm, especially if he really is dealing with a previously unknown mental illness."

He pulls out more pamphlets, one with testimonies from previous program participants. When Lancer left Amity Park for college, he never planned to return. He got his teaching degree alongside his associates in English and History.

Lancer had taught at a different school, a more well-known and better-funded school, but he missed his small town. He missed the neighborly people, the less noise, and Amity's clean, crisp air. He found himself quitting his Gotham Academy job in Grades six to eight, moved back home, and attempted to drag Casper High out of its failing pit.

He still struggled as the school couldn't find enough teachers. He taught four different subjects—math, History, English, and Science—whenever he could, and there was almost no funding.

But Casper High was slowly getting better every year due to the connections Lancer had made in his seven-year tenure as a Gotham Acadamy Professor. One of these connections was the father of his favorite English student.

Bruce Wayne.

Mr. Wayne attended every single one of Jason's plays, and as the Drama Club sponsor, Mr. Lancer would chat with him. Most people knew Wayne was an airhead, but Wayne was delightful to be around. Like Mr. Lancer, he cared deeply about education and always took the teacher's suggestions to bring up at PTA meetings.

When Lancer chose to move back to Amity, Jason was devastated and insisted he had Bruce's number. It was heavily implied that the board wanted Lancer gone due to his "questionable" teaching plan—he tried to teach empathy a little too much, according to some parents—and the boy thought his sudden departure was due to this.

Mr. Wayne assured him if he had been let go or pressured into leaving, he would provide Lancer with an entire team of lawyers. Touching as it was, Lancer assured them he was leaving on his own accord.

He contacted Mr. Wayne, asking for advice on how to apply for school grants or any other tips the billionaire could give him. The man was the most involved Father Lancer had ever met, including fundraising and supporting art programs.

Casper High had been this close to removing Band, Drama, Cheerleading, soccer, and Baseball because it needed more money to afford them. Not to mention all the other clubs that had vanished when Lancer was a Casper student. Bruce was happy to help him save the programs for the students.

It was the main reason Lancer was made vice principal so quickly. He was basically keeping Casper High running.

Two years later, he heard the news that Jason had been murdered. It shattered Lancer's heart. He went to the funeral and watched Mr.Wayne slowly fall apart. Even as he returned home, he tried to reach out to the man whenever he could.

It may have felt different to the other man, but Lancer always thought they were friends. Eventually, Mr. Wayne bounced back—never forgot—from Jason's death, and slowly, the gap between them was reconnected.

The reason for Mr. Wayne's mental recovery was the one that suggested this program. He had personally invited Mr. Lancer to send Daniel.

"Tim Drake is a brilliant boy," Mr. Lancer continued, watching the two couples struggle to decide. "His team is filled with trained psychologists, he has the facilities to deal with Meta children, and Daniel won't be uncomfortable rooming with him as a teenager himself."

Maddie looks at Jack, but while she sees the hurt in his eyes, she also sees his resolve. "Alright, we'll send Danny to the Meta Mentoring Program. It's what's best."

"I'll let Mr. Drake know he'll have a roommate."

#if dead tired happens and Bruce/lancer happens then Mr lancer is going to be Danny’s father in law and Danny doesn’t like this #i don’t know where i was going with this #but god damn was i going #dead tired #Bruce x Lancer #i don’t know their ship name #bruce wayne #danny fenton #tim drake #mr lancer #prev tags #danny phantom x detective comics #dcxdp crossover #dcxdp #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdpdabbles #the roomate #mr.lancer is one of those teachers that care and single handle keeing the school open #part 1 #I see that part 1 tag and I have decided to ignore it in favor of giving the people shenanigans #sorry op #i had to #Jason sees the moment Bruce realizes his crush is back #he is rejoicing inside but it ends up with him just looking smug #to be fair he is also being smug about it #everyone else catches on quick about what’s up with Bruce and Tim and their crushes #either immediately is on board ride or fucking die #or is hesitant and is reluctantly okay with it they guess but only because b is happy #I reached the tag limit lmaooooo

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shitsndgiggs · 3 days ago

Note

Heyyy

What about something very cutesy where Kenan and reader are on vacation(where he went this summer with his friends) and reader is waiting for Kenan to get ready on their bed to go out for dinner and when he finishes he goes to her and they kiss etc and Kenan doesn’t want to leave anymore but the reader obliges him. Little messy I know😔

STAY IN? - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan wants to stay in

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The hotel room was softly lit, the sounds of waves crashing on the beach outside filling the air with a peaceful rhythm.

I was sprawled across the bed, my legs dangling off the edge as I absentmindedly scrolled through my phone.

Kenan had been in the bathroom for what felt like forever, getting ready for our dinner reservations.

I sighed dramatically, calling out to him, “And you say I’m the one who takes forever to get ready? What’re you doing in there, applying a full face of makeup?”

From behind the closed door, I heard him laugh. “Patience, woman. I’m almost done,” he teased back.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. I was honestly just excited to spend a night out with him after our long day exploring the island.

It felt like we were in our own little world here, with no schedules, no responsibilities—just each other.

Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and Kenan stepped out, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

My eyes traveled over him, taking in the sight of his sun-kissed skin and how ridiculously good he looked in that fitted shirt. He smirked when he caught me staring.

“What? You like what you see?” he asked, his voice a low tease as he crossed the room to me.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “You clean up alright, I guess,” I said, though the way my eyes lingered on him gave me away.

Kenan’s smirk widened as he leaned down over me, one hand resting on the mattress beside my head. “Just alright?” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Yeah,” I teased, my heart skipping a beat as he brought his lips closer to mine. “But you really took your time in there.”

“Maybe I was trying to look good for you,” he said softly, brushing his lips over mine in a quick peck.

I let out a small, satisfied hum, intending to sit up and head to the door, but Kenan had other ideas. He caught my chin between his fingers, tilting my face back toward him.

Another kiss—slower this time, his lips lingering on mine like he was savoring the taste.

I sighed into the kiss, melting under his touch as he deepened it, turning what was supposed to be a quick peck into something that had my toes curling.

The kisses came one after another, each one slower, more drawn out than the last. Kenan’s hands slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him as he tilted his head, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss that left me breathless.

It was the kind of kiss that made the world outside fade away, the kind that made me forget about dinner reservations and everything else.

“Mmm,” Kenan hummed against my mouth, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. “Maybe we should just stay in tonight…” He mumbled the words between kisses, his voice husky and warm.

I let out a breathless laugh, pushing lightly at his chest even as I felt myself giving in to the way his fingers traced circles against my skin. “Kenan,” I protested weakly, but he only kissed me again, his lips finding that spot just below my ear that made my knees go weak.

“Seriously,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear, “I don’t think I can leave this room now.”

As much as I wanted to just melt into his embrace and forget all about dinner, I knew we’d regret missing it. I placed a hand on his cheek, pulling back just enough to look into his darkened eyes.

“We have a reservation,” I reminded him, though it came out in a breathless whisper.

Kenan groaned dramatically, leaning his forehead against mine. “Who cares about food when I’ve got you right here?”

I laughed, gently detangling myself from his hold and stepping back. “We can come back here after dinner,” I promised, giving him a cheeky grin. “But first, we eat.”

He gave me that adorable pout, but there was a glint in his eyes that told me he wasn’t giving up that easily. “Fine,” he sighed, grabbing my hand as I started toward the door. “But you owe me dessert when we get back.”

“That can be arranged,” I said, my heart fluttering at the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

#football imagine #football x reader #turkiye #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yildiz

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achilles-rage · 1 day ago

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good luck charm: bonus drabble

come and get your love

summary: after a hard day, you do something to cheer evan up.

word count: 1.6k

series masterlist

a/n: this might be stupid, but it was fun to write and i think it’s cute so sue me!! sigh, i miss good luck charm evan, and i'm sorry this took so long, i just couldn't think of any scenarios i really wanted to tell. if you have any drabble ideas for this series, i'm happy to hear them! enjoy<33

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You’re in the bedroom putting away some laundry when you hear the front door slam, and you jump in surprise, a frown making its way onto your face immediately. You know exactly what that door slam means; Evan has had a bad day.

“Hi, baby.” you say, peeking your head over the railing and looking at him in the kitchen getting some water. You offer him a small smile when he looks up at you, and although he gives you a smile back, you can tell it’s fake even from up in the loft. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you sigh sadly.

When you make it to the bottom of the stairs and walk towards him standing near the fridge, you wrap your arms around his neck and raise up onto your toes to give him a kiss. You feel the way he melts into your embrace, and it’s almost as if you can feel all of the stress radiating off of his body; it’s practically suffocating you, and you can’t even imagine how he feels.

“Rough day?” you ask, and he nods once, jaw clenched.

He’s been working extremely hard the past few weeks at the LAFD training academy, and while he comes home most days exhausted but content, there’s some days where he can get overwhelmed.

“You have no idea.” he tells you, his hands finding their way to your hips. You give him a sad smile, then pull him down for another kiss, hoping to get him to relax a little bit more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He huffs at your question, thinking for a moment. He knows it would be better to get it out of his system, but he doesn’t want to dump it all on you. He knows how hard you’ve been working at your new job, and he doesn’t want you worrying about him as well.

“Hey, we don’t keep stuff in, that’s not what we do. You told me that.” you urge him softly when he doesn’t reply right away. He sighs, a smile fighting its way onto his face at your reminder. He nods after a moment, looking into your eyes and rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

“The physical stuff is fine, I’m passing everything easily. Just- The instructors say stuff; try to get into your head. It just got to me today.” he explains with a frown. You nod your head as he speaks, keeping your gaze locked with his. When he’s finished you tilt your head to the side, waiting for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, you raise your brows.

“Do you want to tell me what they said today that got you so worked up?” you urge. You don’t necessarily want to push him, but you know that he needs to talk it out, so you keep your eyes on him, as if pleading with him to tell you.

“We were doing this drill today, and there were a bunch of dummies. They gave them all back stories to make them feel real. I don’t know, I guess I just got caught up in it and in my mind they were real people, because they will be one day. I tried to go back into the building even when some of the other guys let the fire get out of hand because there were still a few dummies left in the building, and some guys had to hold me back.” he says in one big breath, and you follow along with furrowed brows, hoping he’ll continue.

“Well, they know I have you, and I guess they picked up on the fact that I was thinking about you the whole time; thinking about you in there. They were just saying stuff about me not being able to save you because of my mistakes, and about you having to plan my funeral because I got reckless on the job and I got myself killed.” he continues after a moment. He chews on the inside of his cheek as he waits for you to reply, and your eyes soften at his admission.

You shake your head, bringing his head down to rest your foreheads against each other with your hand on the back of his neck. You keep him there for a moment in silence, trying to gather your thoughts before you reply.

“My love, your heart is what will make you a good firefighter. You care so much about people. And I have no doubt that you’d be able to save me if you had to, because you’re smart, and capable, and you love so deeply. And I’m not gonna lie, the thought of you getting hurt on the job has crossed my mind, but I know that you’re gonna fight to come home everyday, aren’t you?” He nods immediately, brows furrowing.

“Of course, I will. You know I will.” he replies, and you smile.

“Then I’m not too worried. Worry about actually finishing your training first, and then we’ll talk about you dying on the job, okay? Because I guarantee that when you start at an actual station, you’ll trust your team a lot more than the recruits. You can’t even imagine all the stories my dad has told me about the people he had to train with.” you tell him with a small laugh. You can still see a bit of hesitancy in his eyes as he tells you that you’re right, so you lead him to the couch and sit him down.

“I know exactly what you need.” you tell him when he sits down, then turn and grab your phone off the kitchen counter.

A small, real smile finally makes its way to his face when he sees you scrolling through your phone, knowing exactly what you’re about to do. When one of you has a bad day, the other always does something to make the other smile. He doesn’t even remember when or how this tradition started, but he does know that it always makes him smile regardless of how many times you do it.

His smile widens when he hears the beginning to Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love from the speaker connected to the tv, and you turn from your spot in the kitchen to face him.

You walk over to him as the beat starts, moving your shoulders in time with each step and fighting back a smile, and when the singing starts, you grab the tv remote off the coffee table and begin to lip sync into it.

He watches as you dance to the music with a wide smile, watching the way you move your hips in time with the music, and he can already feel himself start to feel better. He chuckles when you grab one of his hands and duck down to spin under his arm, and when you turn back to face him, you drop his hand and back up a few feet.

When the chorus starts, you continue lip syncing as you raise your hand in a “come here” motion, rolling your body in time with the beat. He gets up off the couch, keeping his eyes locked with yours, then grabs your hips, pulling you against him.

You both sway to the music with smiles on your face. You can tell that he feels better, and you’re extremely grateful. You know how stressful the job can be, and you only hope you can help him through it as much as you can.

The song finally ends, and he lifts you up with his hands going to the backs of your thighs, and you giggle as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You always know what to do, princess.” he says with a grin, and all you can do is lean down to press your lips to his.

“I know what else I can do to help you feel better.” you murmur against his lips. You feel his grip tightening on the back of your thighs, and he groans, pulling back from your lips to look at you with blown pupils.

“I’m keeping you in bed until tomorrow morning.” he teases, then sets you back down onto the ground. He then grabs your waist and turns you towards the stairs, then pushes you forward gently, but not before giving your ass a firm smack. You yelp at the contact, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder as he speaks.

“Go upstairs, princess. I’ll be right up.”

“What are you doing?” you ask, but obey and walk towards the stairs.

“I’m ordering takeout, gonna see what I can do before it gets here.” he teases, and you laugh softly, rolling your eyes.

His eyes dart between your ass as you walk up the stairs, and his phone, and when he’s finally placed the order, he races up the stairs two at a time.

He grins when he sees that you’re already naked, sprawled out on the bed and sitting up on your elbows waiting for him. He groans as he takes off his shirt, then unzips his pants, and then he’s on you in an instant, lips attaching to your neck.

“How could I do this without you, princess?” he whispers against your neck, goosebumps erupting on your skin as his hot breath hits your neck.

“You’d be lost without me.” you tease as you tilt your head back. You feel him grinding against you as he chuckles, and you lower your chin to meet his gaze when he leans back to look at you.

“Damn right, I would.”

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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apollyonsdarksecrets · 17 hours ago

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The Suppressants

Alpha! Joel Miller X Omega!AFAB!Reader

Part One, Part Two

(( it won’t let me post the URL for part one, so please visit the link below to my Master List where you can find Part One!))

The complete Collection: Apollyon’s Master List.

Summary: What do you do when you run out of heat suppressants? You turn to the only person who can possibly get you more medication; even if it means airing your biggest secret. But when Joel doesn’t have what you need you must travel together to meet another dealer. Surely you’ll get more medicine score your heat starts… right?

Warnings: 18+ content, post-apocalyptic world. A/B/O alternative universe, (A/B/O dynamics including: Scenting, Marking, Knotting, Heats) age gap (Reader is 26, Joel is late 40s), reader has been on suppressant most of her life, Joel teaches reader about guns, parental lost (not depicted on page), he falls first, angst(?), gore and violence. SMUT: Fingering, PIV, no use of protection (wrap it up y’all!), slight breeding kink if you squint, knotting, marking, heavy praise kink. ((Please let me know if I missed anything))

The day creeps on into the late evening, and as stars begin to speckle the sky you finally draw yourself away from the window, unable to see anything but your own reflection. Joel sits by the fire, trying to make it seem as if he wasn’t watching you the whole time your back had been turned. He shuffles his legs, picking at the ruminants of the rabbit on his plate.

“He’ll be here.” Joel glances up as you pace over, biting at your thumb nail as you stare into the orange and blue embers.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” But there’s a catch in your voice, your smile wavering slightly when you catch his eye.

He holds your stare for a moment, and you’re unable to hide the pinch of worry between your brow, your smile falling further. “Come on, sit.” Joel nods at your sleeping bag, sliding the rest of the rabbit towards you. “Gotta eat, kid. It ain’t gonna do you any good to make yourself sick while we wait.”

He has a point. You slide your bag closer to him and the fire, crossing your legs as you sit, pulling the plate into your lap. The silence stretches between you, filled only by the pop of the logs in the brick fireplace. You dare a glance towards Joel, finding him leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out and staring into the fire. Both of you lost in your own heads, wondering what could have happened to make Mark so late.

“Let me ask you something.” You’re caught staring, your cheeks flushing as Joel turns to look at you.

“W-What?”

“How long have you been on this medication?”

“Oh um… Eight? Nine years, maybe.” You shrug your shoulder, popping a piece of meat into your mouth.

Joel stares at you, stunned. “That long?” His thoughts turn instantly to how the medication could have affected you, how your body works, down to your biology. He can’t stop the spark of horror showing in his eyes before you notice.

You blanch slightly, stammering over your words. “Well… well yeah. I mean I couldn’t let anyone know, obviously. It’s… mom explained it like it was pretty much birth control. Never have a heat, never have to worry.” You try to shrug it off but Joel shakes his head, turning his body towards you.

“Yeah, but even then birth control isn’t supposed to be used your entire life… Are all of your instincts suppressed?”

The look on his face, how his eyes have grown wider, it makes you fidget. “Um… I guess so. I don’t really know what though.”

Joel shakes his head slightly, finally resting his gaze on the fire. “How come you never decided to find an Alpha to settle with? Someone you trusted?”

Your cheeks grow warm, the plate long forgotten in your lap, staring at Joel as the firelight dances across his features. “Well, I…” You don’t advert your gaze when he looks back at you, your heart steadily beating faster. “I thought about it… but I’m… I’m scared. I’m scared that the moment an Alpha finds out that he’ll use me, strip me of everything I am until I am nothing more than my biology…”

Your words are heavy in the air, the two of you staring at each other as the logs shift and crack in the hearth. Joel sits up a little straighter, resting his arms on his knees and glancing you over, breaking eye contact first.

“You told me.” His voice is gruff, underlying emotions caught at the back of his throat and your eyes widen.

“Of… of course I did-You’re…”

“Different?” He offers, eyebrows lifting, gesturing with a hand. You nod, suddenly all too aware of how close you are to him, how his eyes burn into your own, how he’s a larger than life presence in the room and that…

It doesn’t scare you, nothing about Joel has ever scared you. Unlike most of the Alphas you had the misfortune of crossing paths with.

It’s a startling realization, stealing your breath as you turn away.

Joel is different. He’s always been different.

“Y/n?”

You set the plate down clumsily beside him, the clunk loud on the wood floor, before you stand with your bag.

“I’m tired… do you mind taking first watch?”

Before he can answer you’re walking away, setting your bag down near the wall farthest from his. You crawl in and turn over, the pounding of your heart keeping you up for most of the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Day one of staying in the safe house slowly rolls into day two. Then those hours bleed over into day three and the anxiety that was pumping through your veins has morphed and transcended into pure terror.

There is still no sign of Mark as you and Joel pick at breakfast.

There is still no sign of Mark as you pace back and forth across the house when Joel tries to convince you to sit and eat lunch.

Now the sun is beginning to set, and the limitations of your calm have reached a breaking point. The empty pill bottle lays by your bag, an orange beacon of what is to come should Mark never show. The heaviness of the situation is slowly suffocating the air from the room, and there is nothing either of you can do as you wait, and wait, and wait.

Joel watches you from his spot by the window, lines of stress carve your face, your body jerky with how tightly strung your muscles are as you fold another blanket from the pile you had found in one of the back rooms. He isn’t sure what more he can do, though his instincts beg to comfort you, to take you in his arms and soothe your fears. But he knows it would be a lie, that as soon as the medication begins to work out of your system you’ll go into heat at any given moment, if not immediately.

He glances out the window for what feels like the hundredth time, willing the short blond man to materialize on the empty street.

Your breath is staggered in your lungs, panic slowly tightening its grip around your neck by the minute, no matter how hard you try to keep it at bay. You toss another blanket onto Joel’s sleeping bag before bending to pick up the next, shaking it free of the dust that had gathered over the years. You try to focus on the feeling of the soft material beneath your fingers, or the way the particles float through the air, catching the sunlight. You count the blankets in each pile, trying to even them out.

“One, two, three-“

“Honey.”

You jump at Joel’s deep voice, turning to find him staring at you, his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrows pinched once more. “Y-Yes?” Your eyes flickering to the door expectantly, a spark of hope wishing to fan to life.

Joel rolls his lips together, adverting his gaze. “Ya might wanna take all those blankets into that back room… Make somewhere comfortable for yourself later.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach, the feeling flooding from your hands as the blanket falls to the floor. “W-What? Why?”

“I don’t think Marks going to make it.” Joel watches the color drain from your face in an alarming amount of time, his back stiffening as he pushes off the wall, suddenly afraid you’re going to faint as you sway on your feet.

“N-no… No.” Denial takes a head, your eyes becoming watery. “He said he would be here, he-he has to be here!” Despair makes you raise your voice, and the look of pity in Joel’s eyes only makes the feeling worse. “Why isn’t he here?”

Shaking his head, Joel runs his hands through his hair. “Darling I wish I knew. There’s a number of things that could have happened. From him deciding what I was trading wasn’t good enough to he could have possibly been attacked.” Joel’s words hold reason, and you want to accept them, you want them to make you feel better, to understand that this journey was a risk with no guaranteed reward.

“I can’t go through this Joel. I can’t.” Your voice breaks as he becomes blurry, tears burning your eyes that refuse to fall just yet. “I can’t go home, I can never go back to the QZ.”

“Baby… Yes you will.”

“No I can’t! The moment I get remotely close to those walls an Alpha is going to hunting me like I am some kind of-“

Joel is suddenly before you, gripping your shoulders, and his solemn features are extremely clear as the first tear falls. “Ain’t no one, and I mean no one gonna lay a finger on you. I wont let that happen.”

“I’m an unmated Omega, Joel…” You whisper, trembling under his grip. “I’m prey.”

The words are heavy, laden with the truth. Where as the few mated Omegas there are, are relatively safe in the presence of their Alpha or pack, an unmated Omega is injured prey in a room full of predators.

Joel cusses, his grip tightening ever so slightly, fingertips digging into your sweater. He ducks slightly, bringing himself to your level, and this close you can see the slightest specks of colors hidden amongst the brown in his eyes. Golds and greens swirling together. You get so lost in the depths of them for a moment that you start slight when he speaks.

“Listen… I’ve been thinking about this and I just… You need to hear me out, alright? You know I’d never do nothing to hurt you, but this is the only option I see.”

Hesitation bubbles uncomfortably in your stomach, your nod small as you suddenly realize how close you both are, how strong his smell is growing.

Joel swallows thickly, searching your eyes. “Let me mark you.”

You gasp, pulling away and Joel lets you, raising his hands in the air as you stare in growing disbelief. “What?”

Joel rushes to explain, sensing the rising fight that is about to ensue. “After. After you get through your heat, when it’s time for us to leave let me lay a mark on you. It wont be a mating mark, just a claim. Any Alpha that dares to come near you will scent me immediately.”

A trembling hand flutters to your throat, the most traditional place for a mark of any kind. “That’s… That’s a really big commitment Joel…” You breath, looking up at the older man. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t ask that of you.” The thought of bearing Joel’s mark though makes the blood in your veins feel thick, something deep in your stomach clenching as you imagined what it would feel like, how his mark would appear on your skin.

“You aren’t ask anything of me, Y/n. I am offering you a solution.” Joel insists.

A solution.

Is that all it is?

Though claims are not as strong as Mating marks, Joel’s scent would be imbedded into your very being; and as he said, not a single person would dare mess with you. Him being one of the most powerful people in the QZ… But there is something whispering at the back of your mind, a fleeting feeling of disappointment that startles you.

Is this just a man doing whatever it takes to uphold his bargain?

“I mean… I understand. It-It’s just… what if there is someone you find later on, they aren’t going to be happy that you have already marked another person.” You feel stupid just saying that, but apart of you wants to know, some part that is is suddenly feeling small and insecure as you stare at Joel.

Joel’s smile is bemused, the corners of his lips hardly lifting as he cocks his head. “I ain’t been worried about such things for a long time, darling.” There’s a gleam in those brown eyes as he looks at you, “Is that a problem for you?”

Your skin flushes, the color filling the apples of your cheeks, and you can no longer hold his stare. Joel takes a testing step forward, and when you don’t retreat, he closes the distance. He curls a thick finger under your chin, tilting your head up with no where else to look but at him. Your pupils are blown out, covering the beautiful color of your irises, and he feels the slight bit of weight as you seemingly, unknowingly press your chin into the warmth of his hand. “Hmm?” He prompts, easing a little closer, the toes of his boots brushing yours, and you squirm in place. His presence is overpowering, making you feel small in a way that has your breath hitching. “Got someone you’re sweet on?”

The low rumble of humor in his voice makes you blink, stuttering your answer. “What? No-No of course not…” You think back to the conversation just a few nights ago, how you realized that you found more than comfort in Joel presence and you suddenly feel as though you’ve been doused with cold water.

His smile grows with your silence, a dimple peaking through the scruff of his beard, those crows feet reappearing by his eyes as he slips his hand along your jaw. “No one? Not a single soul?” He teases, his voice soft like the stroke of his fingers over the back of your jaw. You push his hand away, turning your back to him as you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I’ll consider it.” You mumble over your shoulder, a shudder ripping through you.

“That’s all I am asking for.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

As the sun dips past the rising building, needs you’ve never felt before begin to surface with the creep of night. Sitting on the floor of the back room, you readjust blanket after blanket to your liking. Every one that Joel lays out you have to pull and tug into the right place, wadding up some and discarding others.

Joel watches you, patient as he follows your instructions on how to help as you make your bed. You worry your lips between your teeth, sitting back on your heels as you stare at the mess before you. “It’s alright, your instincts to nest are starting to come out. It use to be that when Omegas lived with their Alpha’s they would have specific rooms designed just for their nests.” His voice is calm, trying to quell your anxiety.

“Really? That must have been nice…”

“It was. The space was sacred to an Omega, it was completely filled with things that they desired and found comfortable as well.” An intrusive thought fills Joel’s mind, an image of you, curled up amongst soft blankets and pillows. Your face no longer pinched with fear, instead soft with contempt.

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, a sheepish look crossing his features as you shake your head. “Something is missing… It doesn’t smell right… I need…” You whisper dies off as you look over, catching Joel’s stare. Your eyes move lower slowly, zeroing in on the dark green flannel he has thrown on over his t-shirt. Joel follows your gaze in confusion, cocking an eyebrow.

“Whatcha’ need, sweetheart?”

You swallow, his scent had been filling the room over the last few hours, calling to you, blanketing your nerves. He smells of pine woods, and whiskey, and the way a campfire clings to your clothes the next day. It’s intoxicating, a mouth watering scent you could easily become addicted to.

“Could… Could I have your flannel?” You can barely get the words out, embarrassed by the need for his scent to feel comfortable in your nest.

Joel stares at you in surprise, his eyes widening. “My shirt?”

You smooth out a wrinkle in the blanket you’re sitting on, unable to look him in the eyes as you stammer. “You… You smell good and it-it’s been comforting this entire trip…” Whatever you could possibly say to justify your request dies in your throat, sizzling with shame.

The room is quiet for a long moment before Joel moves out of the corner of your eye. He rolls his shoulders back, working the garment off his arms and handing it over. “There ya go.”

Your hand trembles minutely as you take it, his eyes locked with yours as you draw it to your chest, your heart pounding in your ears.

Joel’s next breath is cut short, a sweet smell beginning to permeate the air and he realizes your medication is leaving your system. Your natural scent is sweet, like peaches and chocolate, and something fresh like the first rain of spring.

It makes Joel’s stomach tighten, fire starting to kindle low in his groin, and he realizes he needs to put distance between the both of you while he can.

“I’m going to get you some food.” he stands from the crate and your gaze follows, traveling up the expanse of his body. Past his long legs clad in dark denim, past his tapered waist; further up his wide chest and corded arms until your focus is finally of his face.

You’re noticing things you hadn’t before, like how his salt and pepper beard has a heart shaped patched just under his jaw. The wild way his hair curlers, framing his face, and once more you’re drawn to the set of his lips. They look soft, warm, like they would move perfectly against your own.

“Honey?”

Joel’s thick accent washes over you, and a blazing heat licks up your spine making you whimper. Pain rips through your abdomen, your body suddenly feeling wound tight full of sudden need that leaves your panties slick.

His eyes widen, hit by the full volume of your scent as it perfumes and envelopes the room.

“Fuck, I’m-“

“You’re in heat.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

If you had to take a bet on who would be the first to break, you would have bet on yourself.

And you would have lost.

48 hours of hell.

48 hours of crying and silently begging for anything to end the pain.

Your fingers have hardly dented your heat, whatever relief you can bring yourself is too short lived, the agonizing pain eating you up until the point you’re certain you will die in this cramped little room. Joel’s flannel is damp with tears as you burry your face into the wad of material, the scent bringing you as much comfort as it brings you pain. The need for him is becoming too much.

You want to scream for him, beg for him to fix it the only way an Alpha can, but you force yourself to bite your lip.

The floorboard creaks suddenly on the other side of the door, and you know it’s Joel, checking on you once again, unnecessarily taunting you with what you can’t have. You whine, frustration eating at you as your hand cramps once more between your slick thighs, forcing you to stop rubbing cruel circles around your clit. You stare up at the ceiling, tears spilling along your temples and catching in your damp hair as you count the cracks in the drywall. Anything to focus on that isn’t the pain and need between your legs, or the way your skin sticks together with sweat.

The moment is to short lived and your body is moving, trying to find a comfortable position as you roll onto your knees, pressing your chest to the mound of blankets. You groan softly, letting your weight rest on your chest as your knees slide apart, your hand once again finding your pulsing clit. Burying your face into Joel’s flannel you huff a sigh, working yourself towards a quick high when the sound of the brass doorknob turning catches you off guard.

You shoot up, wrapping one of the loose blankets around your naked form just as Joel steps into the room.

Embarrassment and shock keep your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth as you stare at each other. The dying sunlight in the room casts him in shadows, his tan skin appearing darker, but his eyes shine as they rake over you.

He is quick to note the change in your smell, how the stress and pain have caused your scent to become overly sweet like turned fruit. The next thing he notices is his crumpled shirt, and the bright flush of your cheeks as you tighten the blanket around you, sweeping the garment underneath. Joel steps closer and you lean back, your breath hitching at the hunger in his eyes.

“Joel…” You try to warn, but he cooes softly and your cunt clenches at the noise.

“baby doll…” Tears fill your eyes at the softness of his tone, and he hurts to ease your pain. “Let me help you, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, ragged like he hadn’t spoke in days.

“No-No… I’m okay, I’ve got in under control.” You lie even as your body begs for the help.

Joel gets to his knees before you, hands clenching over his thighs. Your cheeks are bright red, your hair in a tangled mess on top of your head from where you had tried to tie it up. He has to keep himself from follow the beads of sweat that roll down your jaw before disappearing down the curve of your neck.

“I can’t sit out there a moment longer, listening to you crying and whimpering. It’s just me, you know you’ve always been safe with me.” You don’t reply, your eyes squeezing shut as a sharp shudder rips through you and it tugs at his heart. “Can I come closer?” You freeze, realizing that he’s asking to come into your nest. A delicious feeling of comfort rolls over your muscles at the idea, and you nod slowly.

Joel’s knees pop and creak as he climbs onto the pallet behind you, where he grips your shoulders and digs his thumbs into the tense muscles.

A small sob rips from your chest, leaning heavily into his grip. “I’ll do whatever you need, just say the word. If I need to leave I will, if I need to just sit here a while and talk you through this I can. But I can’t sit on the other side of that door and listen to you cry.”

His words simmer through your mind, stinging your already aching heart, and another sob is forced from your throat. Joel hushes you softly, his rough palms slipping up your neck then back down, as he pulls you back letting you rest against his chest.

Joel’s warmth bleeds into your own but it feels different, soothing. His scent is the strongest it’s ever been, filling your lungs with each shakey breath, and you feel something shift. Hushed words muddle together in your ears, your head leaning back against his chest as a breathy moan leaves your throat.

Without thought your hips begin to grind slowly, need pulsing so hot and heavy between your thighs that your hand travels down thoughtlessly. Your breath hitches as your fingers swirl around your swollen clit, slipping through your lips and pressing into your opening.

“Little Peach.” Joel’s voice is gruff, and another sob spills from your lips.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t ask for this Joel, I didn’t ask to be born like this.” Before you can snatch your hand away, horror flooding through your body, Joel is there. His hand finds an opening in the blanket so loosely wrapped around your body, gripping your wrist stopping you.

“I know… I know you didn’t but there ain’t no reason to fight it now baby. It’s said and done.” His clauses are rough against your skin, and you hold your breath as he covers your hand with his own. “Use me. Take what you need, whatever it is.”

Your eyes are droopy with lust when you turn your head to look up at him, the softest whimper leaving your lips when Joel shifts behind you , pressing the hard ridge in his pants against your back.

“I…” You swallow, thighs trembling as you feel your laced fingers brush the thatch of curling hair covering your pussy. “I don’t want to make you do anything…”

When he chuckles the sound reverberates through your back, “Darlin’,” He drawls the word out close to your ear, “You didn’t make me stay, you didn’t make me come in this room. And you certainly aren’t making me do this.”

He emphasizes his point by tracing the drenched slit of your cunt, earning a high pitched squeak. “Fuck, peach… So wet, she’s just fucking dying for some attention isn’t she?”

Your head, feeling heavy, falls back against his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as bliss fills your body. Joel tugs testingly at your blanket and when it slips from your fingers, Joel pulls it away revealing your body to him.

Joel sucks in a breath, his pupils dilating as he drinks in the sight of you laid out between his legs. Your chest rises and falls with each quick breath, the sheen of sweat gleaming on your body in the dim golden light of the room. “Look at you…” A hunger permeates his words, his breath growing more ragged as he draws a delicate circle around your clit, eliciting a gasp. “You are beautiful, so very, very beautiful.”

Your hips circle, seeking more of anything he is willing to give you. “Please, I need you… I need you, Joel.” You turn your face into his neck, your breath fanning over his skin.

“Ain’t gotta beg, pretty girl. I’ve got ya.” His fingers draw lazy patterns around your clit and you moan, slow and drawn out, hips bucking as he keeps a steady pace. Joel works you up easily with a few expert swipes, your back bowing as your orgasm crashes through you. Your cries of ecstasy are muffled against his throat, thighs squeezing his hand.

He shushes you as you float back to reality, gasping for breath as you relax against him; your muscles loose, bones feeling like jello. “Atta girl, easy Peach.”

You try to catch your breath, reviling in the small reprieve he’s given you. “peach… why peach?” You whisper, making Joel chuckle softly.

“It’s all I can smell ever since your medication wore off. Peaches and chocolate .”

You hum, a small smile playing at your lips. “Are you sure the chocolate bar didn’t melt in my bag?”

Joel smiles, lazily dragging his fingers across your stomach. “Yeah, I’m sure. Bakers chocolate doesn’t smell this sweet.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and your heart flutters, a calm washing over your mind at the same time a spark flairs to life in your stomach.

You lean back, eyes hazy, lids heavy matching the look of his own. The few seconds you spend staring at each other feel like an eternity before you close the gap.

It’s hesitant, as most first kisses are, a little puff of surprise between your lips before they seal together. Finding the rhythm that works so well as one moans softly and the other swallows the noice. Your hand slips up his chest, feeling the wild thump of his heart before it travels up his neck to rest against his jaw.

Joel helps you as you turn, never letting the kiss break as you shakily straddle his lap, pressing your body tight against his own. The spark catches quickly, setting fire to your body as you grind against the hard bulge in his pants. His hands grip the dent of your waist, encouraging your movements with soft squeezes, while you tug fitfully at his shirt.

“More.” You mumble against his lips, letting your heat take the lead, turning off all thoughts of shame as his shirt slips up and you lay your hands on his bare skin for the first time. He pulls the shirt off completely and you lean back, admiring him with lust blown eyes. Joel sighs softly, his head dropping back as your fingers run through the dense curling hair across his chest. His body is strong, sculpted by years of manual labor and survival, yet his stomach is a little soft with age. You scratch your nails down his stomach lightly, following the trail of hair down to the buckle of his jeans and Joel closes his eyes.

“I want you.” You lick your lips, salivating at the thought of what lies just below the thick blue denim. Joel moans again, his chest rising with the need for air as he nods.

“Gonna need to work you open for me, honey.” He breaths, his eyes falling to where your hands fumble over the button of his jeans.

“Just… I just need you, it’s okay.” There’s a frantic note to your voice, all logic thrown out the window at this point, need and instinct pushing you forward.

Joel sees this, and slips his hand around your throat, squeezing softly and forcing you to sit back, ignoring your desperate whine. “Ima give you what you want, but you’re gonna listen to me little girl. Am I clear?” There’s a touch of command in his voice, forcing your gaze to his and waiting until you finally nod your understanding.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours, sneaking his other hand between your bodies, stroking your pussy. You groan, eyes fluttering closed as your grind yourself against his hand, supporting yourself by gripping his arm. “That’s it… go ahead baby…” Joel’s voice is hoarse, his pupils dilated as he sinks two fingers into your heat. You gasp at the sudden stretch, the burn of his thick digits spreading you open. Your jaw falls slack, eyes rolling up as bliss radiates through your body. “Fuuuck, baby girl…” Joel pulls his fingers out before sinking them back in, the calluses he’s built from years of working with his hands rub along your sensitive walls, reaching places you never thought possible. “Y’er so tight… squeezing my fingers like that.” Joel’s Texan twang seeps into his words as his arousal heightens, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans as he works his fingers in and out, faster and harder, mesmerized by the way your hips buck and twitch; climbing towards your next orgasm. “Come on baby… cum fer me darlin’.”

Your body sings for him, the force of your orgasm shaking you as your back bows and light explodes across your vision. Your thighs quake, Joel’s name falling from your lips as you sob, rutting against his hand as your cunt squeezes his fingers with each radiating wave of pleasure.

The soft, comforting sounds of his approval reaches your ears, his grip slackening around your throat as you slump against him. “So beautiful, cumming all over my fingers like that. I need to see you cum on my cock baby.” His words have you preening, his voice husky as you lean back, your grin lopsided and your eyes glossed over. Joel strokes a thumb over your cheek, and you turn your head, kissing his palm. “Lay back for me. Let me take care of you.”

With much effort you manage to lay back in your nest, your legs spread, hips circling invitingly as Joel climbs to his feet, finally stripping off his jeans. All that remains in the way of what. You need the most, are his thin pare of threadbare boxers. Your mouth salivates at the bulge in his underwear, giving you a good peak at the size of his member hiding just underneath. “How do you want me?”

Your voice is so soft, yet wrecked with lust, ready to please Joel. He smiles, his cock twitching. “why don’t you roll over for me huh? That’s right, goood girl.” You follow his instructions, knees slipping on the blanket, head resting on your arms as you try to catch your breath through the thickness of your anticipation.

Dropping his boxers he groans as his cock springs free, bobbing between corded thighs as he takes his place behind you, hands steadying himself on the small of your back. He sighs deeply, cock twitching and knot swelling slightly at the sight of your drenched cunt, inviting him to sink into your heat.

You wiggle your hips impatiently, turning your head and catching sight of him leaning over you, the predatory hunger in his gaze. “I know… I know you need this little one.” His voice drops to a husky vibration in his wide chest and all you can do is nod, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth. “It’s alright baby, I’ll make it better.” Gripping his cock, Joel glides his fingers over the long length of his shaft, teasing the throbbing vein running up his cock before slipping the flushed tip through your folds.

“Please… Please Alpha.” You beg through thick tears, gripping the faded purple blanket below you as Joel notches his cock against your entrance. He presses his hips forward, both of you moaning loudly as he sinks into your warmth. “Joel…” You simper, rocking your hips back, attempting to take more of him. You thought his fingers had been a stretch, now you understand why he was so adamant about opening you up. His cock is long and thick, spearing you open and stretching your walls in ways that feel like you might be ripped in two at any moment.

“Fuck… fuck y’re so tight.” Joel breathes raggedly, his focus torn between not busting right here and now and not thrusting into you savagely. “Easy baby, gotta stretch you out nice and slow.” You mewl, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel him slipping deeper and deeper with small thrusts. every ridge and bump rubbing across your sensitive walls, working you higher and higher.

A hand travels up your bowed spine, gripping your neck and pressing your face into the blankets. “This sweet pussy must have been made for me, huh? the way she squeezes me so tight.” Joel curves over you, his weight settling against your hips as he drives forward, burying himself to the hilt. You squeal at the sudden force, your legs shaking and weak profanities spilling from your lips.

Joel chuckles quietly, bracing his weight on his hands, trapping you below him. “You can take it can’t you baby? You’re doing so well.” He rocks back, sliding out a few inches before burying himself back into you, a gruff moan falling from his lips. He continues his shallow thrusts, like he can’t stand the thought of leaving your drooling cunt for to long.

“Y-yes, yes Alpha.” You stutter, the euphoria coursing through your body threatening to break your mind, as the engorged head of his cock presses against a sensitive spot along your gummy walls. “Please… Please I’m gonna-!” Your muscles lock, mouth agape, as your orgasm suddenly begins to crest.

With a growl, Joel presses his forehead between your shoulder blades. “Cum for me.” He grunts, already feeling his heavy balls drawing tight as your cunt starts fluttering. “Cum for me and I’ll give you my knot.”

A shrill scream bubbles out of your throat, your body jerking below his as you fall into that black pit of pleasure. Joel’s hand slaps over your mouth, muffling your cry of pleasure as his head shoots up, eyes locking on the window for the briefest of moments. “There you go baby, let go for me.” He breathes into your ear, pulling you tight to his chest as he plows himself into your pliant cunt. Fat tears spill over your cheeks, your desperate whines and whimpers caught in his meaty palm as his thrusts become harder, deeper, faster.

“This little pussy, she’s just begging for my cum.” The rhythmic sound of his hips snapping against your ass fills the room, just below it is the sloppy sound of his cock spearing into you. You nod weakly, working your hips back to meet him thrust for thrust and he grins. The look almost triumphant. “Yeah she does… Gonna let me breed her, huh? Gonna let me fuck her full of me?”

Joel drops his hand, circling your throat holding your head against his shoulder. “Yes! Yes oh god, cum in me, cum in me please!” Your cry is all he needs, his control snapping as he bully’s his cock against your cervix.

Joel grunts, his eyes closing and head tilting back as the first jet of cum paints your walls. You squeal, a noise so high and piercing that Joel jerks slightly. His knot swells stretching your cunt beyond what you think you can take, locking you to Joel.

“Fuck baby… you can take it, let go and relax.” He whispers, nipping your shoulder as he grinds his hips against your ass, his spend filling you to the point it has no where else to go, your stomach bulging ever so slightly before it leaks past his knot.

You whimper softly, your thoughts dissipating completely as Joel pants above you. He slowly rolls you both on to your side, cradling you close as he pulls a blanket across your shivering body. Smoothing the sweaty hair from your face he rains kisses down on your shoulders and neck, hushing your whimpers with praises, even as his cock still twitches in your depths.

“I’ve got you, rest baby, I’ve got you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hng- Joel… oh god…” Your head lulls back, Joel’s hand keeping you from hitting the floor as he cradles your neck. Fingers twitching around locks of grey hair, you moan Joel’s name as he drags his cock from your sodden pussy, only to press back in a second later.

Fingertip shaped bruises and dark red love bites littler your body, mirroring Joel’s. A new one popping up every few minutes, consequences of how you’ve spent the last four days.

Even now, Joel circling a pebbled nipple with the tip of his tongue, laving the delicate skin before pulling it into the warmth of his mouth. Your jaw drops, back arching in a silent plea for more, which Joel is happy to accommodate. His teeth scrape over the sensitive peak, sucking deeply before twirling his tongue around your nipple.

You bask in the feeling, your senses having finally starting to become your own as your heat subsides. You tug on Joel’s hair, pulling him from your breast with a wet pop, his brown eyes meeting your own. They’re heavy with lust, soft pants falling from his lips as he grinds against your core. Snuggly wrapped in your wet warmth, his hips barely move as he languidly fills you with every inch he has. The course hairs at the bottom of his shaft, made sticky with the mix of your releases, rubs against your swollen clit; giving it the right amount of friction to keep you on the edge of bliss.

You drag Joel’s lips to your own, moaning as he sweeps his tongue into your mouth, tasting you in the same manner as which he ravishes your body. Pulling back Joel stutters for breath, taking in the rose color of your kiss bitten lips, the seemingly permanent stain of color on your cheeks, how your eyes shine with need as they never leave his.

You lean up, pressing kisses along his jaw, down his neck tasting the salt on his skin. Joel’s hand moves from its place in the bend of your knee, to the plush of your hip, holding you as close as he can. He can hear you breathing in his scent with soft little whimpers, your hands gripping at him as if he is likely to disappear at any given moment.

Joel knows the feeling too well, it threatens to cave his chest in, to pull him into an inky void of loneliness if you decide, by the end of this, that it was all a big mistake. His long fingers tangle into your hair, pulling you from the crook of his neck with ease to stare into your laden eyes.

“You look so pretty like this.” Joel’s voice is thick, sticking in his throat. You make a soft noise of appreciation, rolling your hips to meet his shallow thrusts.

Joel’s pace slowly increases, his cock sliding further and further out before finding home again. Your lashes flutter, gasping quietly as he presses his forehead to yours.

“J-Joel…”

“I want to mark your pretty little neck, I don’t ever want to let you go.” A whine falls from your lips at a particularly hard thrust, your pussy becoming more sensitive, your bud grinding against his pelvic. “Want to keep you all to myself, keep you covered in my scent and filled with my cum.”

Joel moans as your cunt flutters, your legs starting to shake, nails digging into his shoulders.

You nod your head, bliss building under your skin. “Joel… Joel!” He leans closer, practically bending you in half as his grip tightens on the back of your neck.

“Say it baby, tell me I can mark you. Tell me your my Omega.“

“I’m yours! M-Mark me Joel, please!”

With a harsh thrust Joel sends you spiraling, dropping you over the edge into oblivion as his teeth sink into the thin skin of your neck. Your eyes widen, your grip tightening around Joel as the new sensation washes through your body.

For the briefest of moments you can feel everything Joel does, though his emotions pelt you so rapidly you can’t catch on to any of them before he draws away. There’s blood on his lips, a needy manic look in his eyes as his hips falter, moans falling off his tongue as he fucks into you. Joel grips the backs of your thighs, bending you in half, letting gravity work with him as he bears his teeth and molds your pussy to the shape of his cock.

“Mine, my sweet Omega. All mine.” Little whimpers and babbled prayers leave your lips, too limp and compliant below him to do much else. You watch his face twist, his nose scrunching, lips pulling back from his teeth, eyes closing as the first twitch of his cock sends a jet of seed deep into your cunt.

Knot catching, plugging your dripping hole, Joel collapses, hardly catching himself from crushing you under the heft of his weight. Your thighs burn from the stretch, your limbs loose and yet tight all at once as he nips and peppers your jaw and throat with kisses. Your head falls to his chest, a wave of exhaustion crashing into you as Joel rolls you both over, welcoming your weight on top of him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“We’ve used up most of our food, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hunt down a few rabbits to hold us over until we get back.”

Joel squats by the packs, sorting through them, transferring all of the lighter things to your bag. You watch from the center of your makeshift nest, now fully dressed in your travel clothes, your eyes trained on each item he rearranges as your fingers pick at the blanket below you.

A large part of you doesn’t want to leave this room, it wants to stay buried in your nest with Joel beside you. Never to emerge again, growing oblivious to the world outside. But you know that isn’t how it works, that you have to take the next steps and navigate this new life ahead of you.

Joel doesn’t need to look at you to see your discomfort, your scent gives you away. The sweet smell now is too strong, bordering on sour. He looks over his shoulder, catching your eye. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” You look like your verging on tears, your lip starting to tremble. Joel sets the bag down, his eyebrows furrowing as he turns fully. “I’ve never… I’ve never lived as an Omega, Joel. I-I mean, yeah I have been an Omega this whole time but I’ve lived as a Beta, I didn’t have to worry about going out of my apartment, I never had to fear an Aloha taking interest in me. I-I don’t know what to do with all of these emotions and-and feelings burning in my chest.” Tears spill over your cheeks and Joel quickly moves to you, sitting on his knees in front of you. You suck in a harsh breath, a sob threatening to swallow your words. “I don’t want to leave my nest.”

“Baby…” Joel pulls you into his lap, cradling you as he smooths a hands down your back. “I’ve got you baby girl.” He whispers into the crown of your hair, your sobs wracking your body as you cling to his jacket. “You aren’t alone, I’m here and like I’ve said, I ain’t gonna let a thing happen to you. You’ll still live your life just as you did before. We just need make a few changes is all.”

You sniffle with a nod, closing your eyes as you inhale his scent. “I’m sorry.” You mutter timidly.

“Ain’t gotta be sorry. Just need ya to trust me, okay?”

“O-okay…”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun is so bright after being locked inside the house for so long, you squint at your surroundings as Joel ushers you outside and down the steps. You look around at the sunny world, the bright lights and hues of approaching fall. It all feels so conflicting with the turmoil of emotions you feel inside.

You start down the walk way, Joel’s presence at your back, he’s talking about the trip home, how often you both will need to stop, the things that need to be restocked. Vaguely you are listening, your focus drawn to everything around you, something wrong scratching at your bones as you turn onto the street.

You draw to a halt, your breath leaving your lungs in a whoosh before you stumble back, knocking into Joel.

“Oh my god.” You gasp. Joel goes ridged, seeing the body splattered across the road at the same time you do. His gun is drawn in seconds, coming around you, instantly scooping the surrounding areas and you are following suit. Your gun trembles between your palms, your heart pounding in your ears as Joel takes steady steps towards the corpse. “Joel…” Your voice is hardly a whisper, your eyes darting away to the darkened openings of the building on every side of you.

“Fuck…” Joel’s voice is louder than you expect, your skin prickling under your clothes.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Mark.” Widened eyes shoot to his, your mouth dropping open in shock. Joel glances at you briefly before crouching down, grabbing Mark’s bag and dragging it to his side. Quickly looking away you swallow the growing vile rising in your throat at the glimpse of his desecrated body. Despite the hefty distance you can smell the copper tang of Mark’s blood, can see the pool of it dried against the black asphalt and the flies that buzz about his body.

“Your pills are here.” Joel’s knees pop as he stands, heaving the bag over his shoulder as his gaze snags on you. Your body trembles like an unsteady fawn, eyes riveted to the ground before you as you gulp in lungfuls of air. He sighs, glancing down to step around the dealer as he speaks. “Hey, it’s al-“

His next words are lost in a flurry of motion, a yell erupting from his throat as he’s slammed to the pavement, sliding across the rough ground as a weight lands on his body.

The rotting stench wafts into his face, just before graying chipped teeth gnash mere inches from his throat. A scream rips from you at the same time the creature shrieks, struggling against the handle of the shot gun pressing into its throat as Joel struggles to fight against its weight.

Without thinking you raise the gun, the crash corse you learned running through your brain all at once. You aim and fire, the first bullet whizzing past its head feet to the left. The thing claws at Joels thick jacket, looking for a hold to retch itself closer as Joel kicks out his legs, tangled in the bag he had dropped.

The next shot burst into the ground, a foot above Joel’s head and you cry in frustration, anger filling your bones, burning your nerves as you scream. “FUCK!”

You step forward, one arm lifting as you aim, twisting your wrist as you squeeze the trigger.

Everything goes still, your heart, Joel’s breathing, as the zombie drops. the ruminants of its head splattered across the ground and Joel hefts its body to the side, rolling out from under it. A nervous laugh builds in your throat, your hand trembling worse than ever but you can’t bring yourself to lower your gun. Joel looks up at you from the ground, his chest heaving and eyes wide as he takes in your stance.

“D-Does he l-o-o-ook like a BITCH?!” Your voice rings off of the surrounds walls, hysteria making you stutter as you recall the only line you could think of. Joel springs to his feet, despite his bodies protest, and quickly makes his way to your side. Slowly he pries the gun from your hand, turning you away from the body of the cordio before he scoops up the fallen bag and drags you from the bloodied mess.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The fire crackles lowly, just barely lighting the area around it as night descends over the forest. You sit on the moss covered floor, knees tucked into your chest as you stare at the glowing embers, watching as they flicker in and out. Joel is across from you, his knife chipping away at a branch, whittling the wood down into a small figure, hidden in the width of his palm. The boarders of the QZ sit just a mile away, waiting for your return, but what is it you are returning to? The trip back had been far quieter than before, you had retreated into yourself, haunted by the question.

The bottles of pills are a reminder every time they jostle and make noise in your bag. Would you go back to taking them, only to risk reliving this trip all over again? What is your life now if you don’t take them? Do you live with Joel now or on your own? The mark on your neck burns at the thought of being separated from your mate, a concept your hormone free brain is having a hard time understanding.

“I can hear you thinking.” His gruff voice makes you jump, your eyes darting to his, blinking away the bursting dots of light that cloud your vision from staring at the fire for so long.

“What?”

Sighing he tilts his head to the side, pinning you with the inky depths of his stare. “I can practically hear your mind working itself into a tizzy. Plus you’re flooding me with your emotions, darling.” You blanch, mumbling an apology as you shift in your spot. Joel watches you, like he had the entire way home. The dark circles under your eyes, the dullness of your skin, the soft scared whimpers you’ve made in your sleep these last several nights.

He knows worrying like this will only make you sick, physically and mentally, being an Omega only makes it worse. “Come here.” He opens his arm, signaling for you to curl into his side and its like your body is wired to follow his commands. You move without a second thought, tucking yourself against his side, a weak sigh slipping past your lips. Being this close your muscles relax, your thudding heart slowing to a steady beat to match Joel’s own. “Talk to me, pretty girl.” He whispers, kissing the crown of your head as you shuffle impossibly closer.

After a long moment of silence, basking in the way his hand runs up and down your back, you finally relent. “I am so scared.” You breath, your gaze traveling to the luming walls in the near distance. “I-I know you will do anything to keep me safe but… but there is only so much you can do.” Your words sting, the hushed way you whisper them against his flannel nearly unbearable. Joel tightens his grip on your shoulders, about to deny your claim but you press forward. “Should I take the pills? Save us the trouble? But then we will have to do all… all of this all over again and I just… I don’t know if I can.”

Tears fill your vision, turning your face into his chest as you sob quietly.

“Y/n… baby girl.” He drops his knife to the ground, carding his fingers through your hair, pulling you in tighter. Almost as if he could press you into his very being, keep you there so that you never have to fret or worry again. Joel lets you cry, lets your tears soak through his shirt until there is nothing left but a few soft hiccups in your breath and your sagging against him for support.

“Look at me, peach.” His fingers sweep under your chin, lifting your face to his. Your eyes are swollen and red, your face blotchy but he cooes softly. His heart hammering against his own ribs but he can’t let you see that. Not yet. Not when there is still so much you have to face and need his strength for. “If you want to take the pills that is entirely up to you, I don’t have a say in the matter.”

“But you’re my-.”

“No. No matter what I am to you, I don’t have a right to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do with your own body. But,” He holds your stare for a moment, searching your tear stricken face. “But if you decide not to take them, you need to trust me. My scent is already marred into your skin, anyone can tell you are mine with or without being able to tell you are an Omega under neath. I’ve got you, you just need to trust in that.” Joel holds so much certainty in his words,so much need for you to trust and understand what he means, what he’s hoping to convey in the silent moments that follow.

You swallow, your throat working and Joel can’t help but to look, to see the mark that rings the side of your delicate neck. Whipping the remnants of your tears with the sleeve of your jacket you give a shallow nod, Joel had always protected you, had always made sure you were never without. Deep in your heart you knew he would hold true to his words, he would do everything in his power to keep you from falling prey to anyone else.

You just needed to trust him.

“Okay…” You breath, nodding your head as Joel does.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, sucking in a deep breath. the fire crackles and pops in the silence that follows, both of you lost in the comforting presence of the other. When Joel leans back there’s a smile playing on his lips. “You’re wrong by the way.”

“Huh?”

“Jules never shoots his gun like that. You’re thinking of Menace To Society.” Your mouth drops open, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.

“Yes he does! When he has that guy kneeling on the floor!”

Joel laugh with a shake of his head. “Nu-uh sweetheart. You’re wrong.”

You glare up at him, and his smile broadens, “We will just have to see about that.”

Your challenge only earns you a deep chuckle, before he pulls you in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. “What do I get when I prove you wrong?” The suggestion in his words reflect in his eyes, the deep dark brown swimming with excitement. a flush works up your neck, your hand tightening on the front of his shirt. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad we will never find out.” Joel lets out a little growl, squeezing your waist playfully making you squirm.

“Just you wait, little one. You’re in for it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Tag List: @halfburntout @scorpionsaintt

#smut #apollyonsdarksecrets #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #the last of us smut #smut writer #alpha!joel miller #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #alpha x omega #hbo the last of us smut #the last of us #joel the last of us

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halfwayhearted · 18 hours ago

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hey i was wondering if i could request a pau cubarsí x reader. maybe one where he gets jealous of a guy hitting on the reader or talking to her at the balon d’or? thank you, i love you and your work ♥️

Love Between… — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which you make it clear Pau is all you want.

Word Count: 530+

Disclaimer/s — Guy, just comfort/fluff really!

A/N: The summary lowk doesn’t even fit but whatever I guess. First of all, thank you so much??? I love you :3 This was beautiful. I hate this but I don’t at the same time, soooo. Soz.

Smoothing down the hem of your dress with your free hand, you stood close to Pau, whose pinky was still, to your surprise, interlocked with yours.

It wasn’t anything stressful. He knew what he was doing and you were just there. Pau and his tendency to be attentive was something you’d grown to love. Then, suddenly, “There’s Lamine!”

At the sound of your quiet voice, the boy looks down at you before looking up, meeting the gaze of his friend you had just pointed out. “I’ll say hi to him later. Are you thirsty? I’m sure they’ll have water bottles around here somewhere,” he says.

“I’m okay. Go talk to him—I’ll be fine. I’ll manage.”

“I don’t know…” he drawls. “Do you want to come with me? He’ll want to talk to you. You can, I don’t know, maybe congratulate him or something.”

Rolling your eyes at his insistence, you poke his arm. “Pau, please, have your moment with him.”

“I—okay! Okay. I’ll… be back before you know it.”

While he walks away, the Yamal boy starts talking to him the second he spots him. You see the way your boyfriend’s smile widens when he hands him his trophy. You loved him so much. It was insane.

Before you have the chance to keep your gaze fixated on them, you hear a voice catch your attention. “I’m sorry, excuse me, are you lost?”

“Oh. Oh!” Awkward, okay. Haha. “No, I’m not—”

“‘Cause I can show you around if you’d like. I know this place like the back of my hand, y’know.”

“That’s nice… I’m not lost. Thank you, though!”

His expression drops and he nods, but your answer doesn’t stop him from continuing. How disappointing. “Did you come here alone?”

Can Pau come back? “No, I’m here with my—”

“She’s here with me.” Oh, thank God.

Stiffening, the man purses his lips. “Ah, I see. You two have a good rest of your day and… goodbye.”

Watching him depart, Pau looks over at you and frowns. “Odd of him. What did he want?”

“To know if I was lost,” you answered honestly.

“He was looking at you weirdly. Are you okay?”

“I didn’t see how he looked at me, but I’m fine. He offered to show me around or whatever, I refused. I was about to mention that I was here with my boyfriend—you, and that’s when you stepped in.” You fidgeted with your fingers. “Thank you for that, by the way. He just came out of nowhere.”

“Didn’t he? I left you alone for, like, a second.”

That gets a laugh out of you, and you warmly loop your arm with his. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you came in when you did? Seriously.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “You haven’t.”

“Well, in that case, I’m glad you came in when you did. So… how about that water! I’m a bit thirsty.”

“Water, okay,” Pau hummed, placing his other hand on your arm. His cheeks flush when you lean into him and begin to walk around in hopes of finding your beverage, that’s if you guys could.

You couldn’t, however, you both pulled through.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @sakashq ! ౨ৎ

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mazzystar24 · 1 day ago

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Breaks my heart how evil they are to them. I know they're grown men and can handle it and all but they shouldn't have to! Oliver has been so respectful and put so much care into playing buck. He's always been honest about this story being about BUCK, not tommy, and that nobody should be ringing wedding bells

The fact that even the 911 account isn't posting anything because bt fans flood things with hate... and we know oliver sees this shit, he even shut down his comments and DMs. It makes me so fucking sad. We're so close to exploring this beautiful story we've been waiting for and they ruin it over someone who was hired for 4 episodes??

No same the level of care and respect that Oliver has had has been unreal

I say this as a bisexual

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a presumably straight actor handle a queer storyline with this level of respect and understanding

And unlike their fav he hasn’t done it for fame or money or popularity

He has stood up for buck and buck’s bisexuality in cases he didn’t have to

He didn’t have to correct that reporter he didn’t have to make statements in his Instagram calling out bigots he didn’t have to show all this love understanding and excitement for bucks bi arc but he did it even when it’s put him in the firing line and he’s done it with words so well crafted you can tell he fully understands his character and also what bisexuality means to his character

Ik I make jokes but I’m not saying this in a parasocial way- truth is we never know what these actors or famous people are really like- but we still have to recognise good behaviour and the way he has handled this storyline does not elicit the hate and claims of biphobia against him in the least and it’s honestly sad that he has done everything right and is still receiving this from assholes who genuinely do not care or understand what biphobia is

Just because they can’t distinct what the story has been telling them AT EVERY FUCKING TURN and how Oliver tried over and over not to get their hopes up AT EVERY FUCKING TURN and what they built up in their head sometimes with the help of a man after their money. It’s ridiculous

Like not only did he have to turn off comments and DMs he also made a response apparently and probably second guessed himself and deleted it:

And everything he said both here and the interview I stand by, good bi rep doesn’t have to be only fucking if they’re your committed partner y’all are over correcting

Also the claims of biphobia - y’all learn nothing about not assuming sexualities or making these claims huh?

Well at least they’re consistent- when threatened they pretend anything and everything is somehow homophobia cos I (a bisexual ) have been called homophobic so many times by bt fans it’s insane

Rant over cos this is super long but they better leave Oliver stark alone cos that man genuinely doesn’t deserve this shite

#911 #buddie #911 abc #evan buckley #911 fox #911onfox #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #anti bucktommy #anti tommy kinard #asks #oliver stark

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 days ago

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I have a question, so for most of the day to day things that the students do, they where some from of uniform for, wether it be their normal school one, the PE one or their dorm clothes they wear (that still are basically uniforms) or the ceremonial robes so my question is, are they allowed to at all wear what they want during any time at school? Because even in events such as the masquerade or the savanna one we had not long ago (bare with me I am bad at remembering names) that happen outside of school, they are commonly seeing wearing their uniform or at the very least their PE kits (that changes if the event gives them different clothing such as the outfits for the masquerade). The one time I can kind of remember the students being allowed to kind of wear what they want is during the event with stitch (again I can't remember the name). If their are times they wear non school can you perhaps give a list or something of what they wear? Or perhaps times they mention their style or what the normally wear?

Sorry if my English is terrible it is not my first language and spelling and grammar over all aren't my strong suit. And sorry for the ramble, feel free to ignore it as I know this is kind of stupid.

Have a good day/night and rest well

While the game doesn’t outright state when the students must wear their school uniforms, we can probably guess based on irl British boarding schools (for which NRC is modeled after). In the UK, the general policy is that students must wear their uniforms during ALL school hours and breaks. This typically ranges from ~8 or 8 am to 5 pm every week day. If students leave campus on a trip or in some capacity to represent the school (ie inter-school events, conferences, etc.), they are also expected to wear their uniforms. After school and on the weekends, students are allowed to dress casually or however they like.

As for why the students are almost always depicted in one kind of uniform, part of it is limited assets. It’s a lot of time and effort to give everyone different outfits all the time (most anime and manga, even the ones that don’t take place in a school setting, have one “standard” outfit for this reason). It’s easier to design the outfit(s) they’ll be seen in for most of the time and have that become the iconic look. This is, of course, excluding special occasions or promotions, limited time merch, etc.

The in-game reason often provided for why the boys largely wear a NRC uniform of some kind is because of association with the school. Night Raven College is extremely prestigious, so they must be mindful of how they present themselves, especially to the public and in the presence of other schools. Their uniforms are seen as cool, elite, and emblematic of NRC the institution, so this is why students wear them not only at special occasions (opening ceremonies, unbirthday parties, etc.) but also in front-facing events (sporting matches, cultural festivals, Halloween; the campus is open to the public). They wear their school uniforms to Noble Bell College as representatives for NRC. Kalim and Floyd wear their robes when entertaining guests from outside NRC in Kalim’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes. Vil also makes the VDC/SDC squad wear their school uniforms as their outfits for the performance, citing that it’s a symbol of their youth as well as them being the NRC team. Azul states that the ceremonial robes are “popular with the ladies” in Ruggie’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes. Even Fellow, who had ill intent toward the NRC students, was only able to pin them as NRC students in the first place because of their iconic uniform. The dorm leaders are allowed to alter their dorm uniforms as they like, allowing them to stand out as the “boss” of their respective dorms. There is a lot of perceived power and status that comes with wearing NRC clothing—and it’s also the responsibility of those wearing those clothes to make NRC look good. I think Deuce states it the best in a Ceremonial Robes voice line: “These robes are the face of Night Raven College. They're covered with intricate embroidery to make it clear that we stand above other schools.”

A minor thing I’d like to tack on is that the NRC uniforms, especially the dorm uniforms, are enchanted with magic that makes them more durable and combat-ready than your average clothes. This means there is actual practicality and utility behind always wearing the uniforms, especially if you’re like… taking a course that’s intense with its magical workload. I’d also like to think that after spending what is basically a third of your day in the same clothes (which are also functional), some students may be too tired to change into something else so they instead choose to stay in their current uniform. Students in clubs are already obligated to change into other uniforms (like sports team members do) so maybe they’d get too tired to swap out into casual wear.

A lot of the characters don’t talk about personal fashion at length. However, here is a compilation of my own impressions of the prominent NRC characters’ takes on fashion and personal grooming (based on canon information). Please note that this can change based on new content that comes out. For example, the new Relaxing in Room series of cards may contain more details about personal grooming and dress.

Riddle

Riddle thinks outfits that are casual or show too much skin are outrageous. (He dislikes his beachwear for these reasons.)

In book 1, he helps Yuu fix their tie. He also praises his own dorm members when they wear their uniforms correctly or are in formal attire. This implies he has an eye for detail and prefers for uniforms, especially when worn properly.

He states that he values what is inside more than looks.

Riddle describes his Suitor Suit as being similar to what he would wear for the parties he attended with his family. He is therefore no stranger to very formal looks.

His Dorm Uniform heels are high to emulate the Queen of Hearts; however, Riddle also implies he wishes to be taller, which is another reason he wears high heels.

My impression: Riddle honestly is probably used to wearing whatever his mom makes him wear. If he doesn’t have her guidance, then he’ll default to sets of clothes/uniforms or very formal attire. Likely also a stickler for stray hairs, dust, loose threads, etc. Very preppy. Would probably wear high heels to augment his height.

Trey

He has had bad eyesight since elementary school so he has worn glasses since. In fact, Trey collects frames (you can see them in his room) and has tried many styles, as well as considered contacts. However, he looks more intimidating without glasses and in half-rim glasses (according to his mom and younger sister), so he foregoes those options now.

Trey says he gets complimented the most when he wears rounded Wellington or oval frames. Quirkier cat-eye or rimless frames don’t go over as well.

He finds casual and "lived-in" looks like his Outdoor Wear comfortable. However, he also says he would prefer more muted colors.

He apologizes for not buttoning up his vest, but it seems he prefers it that way.

Trey doesn’t like being the center of attention. If in a group, he would rather not be wearing something that makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

He likes hats, so he has a few. The one he wears in his Dorm Uniform was custom made to match Heartslabyul.

Draws on his card suit with makeup.

My impression: Like Trey says, he likes casual fashion and muted colors. Whatever will not attract attention to him and allow him to keep his peace. He seems to be really into being experimental with his looks when it comes to glasses though. Likely would also wear a hat.

Cater

Cater seems to like wearing matching clothes. He has, for example, matching T-shirts with his Light/Pop Music Club bandmates.

He enjoys colorful and flashy fits like what he wears for his club.

Anything ‘cammable!! Cater gushes a lot about aesthetically pleasing clothes, including his costume for Halloween and other alternate looks like the Yasmina Silk and Beans Camo.

He has considered going for a different hair style but has trouble committing to one. Cater says if you change your hair, it also changes your image.

Keeps up with the latest trends.

Draws on his card suit with makeup.

My impression: Cater has an eye for what looks good and will grab attention on social media. He also goes for outfits that signify group unity (which might tie back to the “twinning” trend and/or his desire to belong somewhere). However, although Cater makes these claims it also seems he is interested in reinventing himself, as indicated in his discussion of changing his hair.

Ace

He likes luxury and name-brand fashions but can’t always afford it.

Ace likes to look at shoe magazines with Floyd.

He has been gifted fancy outfits and accessories before, such as luxury sunglasses for his birthday from Vil. Ace vows to take good care of these, but also tends to want to show them off to his friends.

Ace uses a little bit of wax to do his hair in the mornings.

He remarks that some outfits don’t have sleeves, which makes it hard to conceal things for magic tricks. Still, he is confident that he doesn’t always need sleeves to pull off his stunts successfully.

He doesn’t like outfits that are all one color, especially white. Those can be boring!

He likes to pick accessories or shoes of similar colors as his top. This gives his look the appearance of being well-coordinated.

He buys new clothes from the Foothill Town.

Ace is usually very skilled at imitation, but he notes that even he has a hard time figuring out how much makeup to use. He once tried to follow a tutorial video and overdrew his brows.

Draws on his card suit with makeup.

My impression: Bro has the fashion sense of the average teenage boy. He covets name-brand and high-end items that will make him seem cool to his peers and is confident that he can wear these well.

Deuce

Deuce normally tries to present as an honors student; this means wearing his clothes properly, wearing his hair neat and natural, etc.

Formal clothes like his Dorm Uniform make him nervous since he's not used to wearing such things.

He doesn’t seem to have a strong aesthetic sense and just goes with whatever he thinks is most cool. For example, he thinks flaming skulls would be a great magical wheel/blastcycle decal. He also thinks masks are cool because they remind him of superheroes.

He has issues with clothes that are too long, like his Starsending Robes. While Deuce doesn’t take issue with the look of tbe clothes, he does find it hard to move in them, as he is always stumbling over the fabrics.

Deuce is embarrassed by cute, fluffy, rabbit-themed clothes. This is because he used to dress this way as a kid and wants to be taken more seriously now that he’s older.

Draws on his card suit with makeup.

My impression: Boy is trying his best, but his best isn’t much in way of fashion. He tries to come off as cool, but his idea of what’s “cool” may not always be the most appealing to the eye. Not a fashion disaster or anytime though; I think he just… for as much as he tries to be preppy, his true style is more wild and tough. Doesn't feel entirely comfortable in formal wear.

Leona

He seems to like his clothes worn loosely and in his own way; for example, the buttons are undone in his School Uniform and his armband is worn like a belt.

Many of his looks involve low cut tops or unbuttoned tops to reveal… let’s say more than it probably should 😭

Leona says that people back home took issue with his sense of fashion.

Beaded bangles are a specialty of his home country; Leona himself wears quite a few bracelets.

Leona complains about clothes that take forever to put on and take off. He also hates outfits that are heavy and have too many decorations.

When his braids fall out of place or get loose, he’s too lazy to redo them and commands others to fix it for him.

He doesn’t care for compliments about his looks.

Leona claims be only buys what “catches his eye”; price is not an issue. He says that any clothes are fine as long as they look good on him and fit.

In the manga, Leona sleeps shirtless. We also see that he handles his clothes carelessly and slings them all over his room.

He recognizes the Fairy Gala Couture as being tasteful, but just not to his style.

He appreciates extravagant and traditional clothes from his home country. In fact, Leona cites his outfit as being the only good part of going home for Catch the Tail/Bead Brawl.

Leona sometimes has Ruggie shop for clothing for him. This is the case for his Outdoor Wear.

We have to account for his ears + tail in regards to fashion. He also has a sensitive nose, so that’s a consideration for perfumes.

My impression: Leona is able to tell what does and doesn’t look good, but he usually doesn’t like to make the effort to dress up himself. He has a very “wild” sense of style, meaning loose fits and showing off… assets… and doesn’t like overly complicated or impractical outfits. Leona appears to like luxurious looks, as he buys what “catches his eye” and praises his own King’s Garb.

Ruggie

Ruggie will generally go with anything he gets his hands on, even hand-me-downs that are too big for him. This is the case for his Dorm Uniform, which is one of Leona’s.

If he thinks he can sell it later for cash, he'll pick the most extravagant clothes and accessories he can. He doesn't like to wear fancy clothes himself though; he doesn't feel comfortable in them.

He prefers for his outfits to have fewer buttons, as they're a hassle to deal with.

Ruggie likes shorts, which are light and comfy. He values mobility in his outfits, which is why he also says he likes casual clothes.

Not a fan of pure white clothes, as they get dirty easily. Ruggie says he can't eat in them.

He praises his Dorm Uniform for being easy to move in and not too fancy. Ruggie calls it "right up [his] alley".

We have to account for his ears + tail in regards to fashion. He also has a sensitive nose, so that’s a consideration for perfumes.

My impression: Ruggie has very practical tastes, though he generally isn’t picky and will accept clothes as long as he’s getting them for free and they fit him. He prefers casual clothes that allow for mobility, aren't too fancy, and are easy to slip into, similar to his Dorm Uniform.

Jack

He says he's not into highly glamourous fashion.

When instructed to wear something "neat and tidy", Jack's immediate thought is his Lab Wear.

He uses wax instead of gel to style his hair, as he finds gel to leave his hair much too stiff.

Doesn't like heels that are too high. They make it difficult for him to balance!!

Jack reports he usually wears a shirt and cardigan or jacket back home. This combination makes it easier to regulate his body temperature.

He likes the Savanaclaw Dorm Uniform because it's easy to move in and durable; it doesn't flop around.

We have to account for his ears + tail in regards to fashion. He also has a sensitive nose, so that’s a consideration for perfumes.

Jack also shops in Foothill Town for clothes.

My impression: Jack has a more simplistic fashion sense; he isn’t into super flashy or impractical clothes, instead choosing to prefer function or how the clothes perform in a given situation. For example, he will choose to wear cardigans or jackets in his cold northern home and something “neat and tidy” when working at the Mostro Lounge.

Azul

He only has a single pair of glasses, the rectangular ones that he wears on his face. After speaking with Trey, Azul says he feels like trying new frames out. Azul worries that glasses that aren't his usual style (like the circular lenses in his Masquerade Dress) may not suit him.

Though he does need correction for his vision (he says his lab goggles have a prescription), he implies that he wears glasses because they make him appear smarter.

He wears a cologne because it helps to sell the image of him being well-composed and trustworthy, especially in business dealings. Azul is very particular about his cologne, as it is one of his favorite parts of living on land.

In fact, a lot of how Azul presents himself is to create this impression that he is cool and can be trusted. This extends to his clothes, hair, and makeup.

Having grown up in the frigid Coral Sea, he has a higher tolerance for cold than most others do.

My impression: Azul carefully considers his grooming and dress, taking care to not appear disheveled to others. It's all a part of his personal brand! He typically sticks to the same frames, but has indicated that he may branch out. It sounds like Azul isn't too confident about changing his style until he gets validation from his peers.

Jade

When camping, Jade wears a hat so as to prevent sunburn. He also dresses in layers so he can adjust his outfit depending on the changing weather conditions.

He is also very well-put-together like Azul; this helps with gaining others' trust as he goes about gathering information for Octavinelle.

Jade says he is fond of asymmetrical designs, such as what is featured in his Halloween Dress.

Not used to clothes with excess fabric; presumably, this is also true for Azul and Floyd, although not explicitly stated.

He recommends sling bags so as to free up the hands. This is especially useful for the mountains.

Fascinated by the concept of dressing up differently for different occasions. He didn’t know the difference between pjs and street clothes back then and once walked out in public in pajamas.

Jade seems to prefer a certain brand and tends to buy his clothes from that brand.

He wears shoes that Floyd calls "way too basic", even if they are high-quality.

Having grown up in the frigid Coral Sea, he has a higher tolerance for cold than most others do.

Jade tries to get people to wear things he think they would look funny in, though Jade claims he is simply “curious” about the fashion of other races.

He irons his clothes in the morning and makes sure they are free of wrinkles.

Jade describes simple black cloth as “gentlemanly and demure”.

Applying sunblock is important to him. All of his products, including makeup and lip care, include SPF.

Removes his earring when exercising.

My impression: Jade mostly dresses formally (“gentlemanly and demure”), but when he is engaging in his hobbies he plans for the scenario (layers, hats, bags, etc.). We do see bits of his disdain for boredom peeking through though, as he says he likes asymmetrical designs that will keep the eye amused. He’s creative with fashion mainly when he is dressing others for his own amusement. When it comes to himself, he tends to dress to disarm others.

Floyd

Floyd loves fashion and the freedom to pick what he wears for himself (though he handles his clothes carelessly). But! He takes good care of his shoes and shines them.

Floyd states he would rather be naked than wear “lame” clothes.

According to Jade, he tends to like flashy things.

Floyd can easily spot brand name clothing.

He chooses clothes that are easy to move in and durable for Vargas Camp.

He's especially interested in bespoke shoes, sometimes looking at shoe magazines with Ace. Floyd doesn't wear shoes in his true form, so he figures he should enjoy shoes while he's on land~

He's good at coming up with ways to experiment with his looks. For example, when considering sandals, he says you can jazz them up with nail polish, anklets, etc.

He likes goofy little accessories, like the little eel plushie charm on his Outdoor Wear.

Like Jade, he doesn't understand wearing specific clothes for certain occasions such as visiting the beach. Floyd does go out of his way to buy outfits for outings though.

Like Leona, Floyd seems to like more of a loose or less constrained style. He still fights and nail with Jade about wearing a bow tie to this day and is notably the only member of the Octatrio that doesn't care to maintain a pretense of polite or proper dress.

Having grown up in the Coral Sea, he has a higher tolerance for cold than most others do.

Removes his earring when exercising.

My impression: Floyd is much more openly adventurous and flashy with his outfits than Jade is. He doesn't like formal clothes or being told what to wear; the wants to be allowed to be experimental, especially with his accessories. Additionally, Floyd really likes luxury shoes--they're an item he pays a lot of attention to.

Kalim

Kalim often guns for the fanciest outfits without a second thought, sometimes calling for them to be made even fancier with jewels.

He tends to go for excessive jewelry too, whether for himself or for others. Kalim once almost bought everyone in Scarabia diamonds as souvenirs. Usually wears earrings himself.

Loves the color white; he says that he always picks this color when he is getting outfits tailored. Kalim is also a fan of loud and bright colors.

He reports having "lots of outfits [like the Fairy Gala Couture] at home".

Kalim usually has his head in a scarf. There are some voice lines in which he claims he cannot do his headdress by himself and other voice lines in which he offers to help you wrap your own.

He only wears clothes of the highest quality.

My impression: Kalim has a very extravagant and excessive fashion sense. He wears a lot of white and loves tons of detail and accessories in his outfits, including head scarves and jewelry. Really doesn't know when enough is enough.

Jamil

Jamil works hard at taking care of his appearance. This is partly because he, as a servant, could impact the reputation of his employers, the Asims, if he presents in a slovenly manner, especially when on the job or helping at an event.

He particularly likes to take care of his hair. Jamil likes it long, even if it takes more effort to maintain. He uses a variety of high quality and rare products on it, and his sister also gifts him hair products. Jamil has taught himself how to do his hair in the mornings with magic, though it took significant practice.

He has a keen eye for textiles and embroidery, often examining clothes and commenting on its quality when browsing.

Jamil tries on clothes before he buys them. He of course considers the design and material, but comfort is also an important factor for him.

Jamil states that he likes to wear oversized and comfortable clothes. The loose fit is nice and allows him to easily move, which probably helps with fulfilling his duties. This is perhaps why Jamil wears a hoodie in his School Uniform card.

He wears many hair ornaments. Jamil buys them himself and receives them as gifts. He claims he is not too particular about them.

Jamil feels a little uneasy about bugs, even if he knows they are fake. He's reluctant to touch the silver insects on his Fairy Gala Couture boots. Ironically, he does not express any anxiety about the scarabs on his Dorm Uniform shoes.

He likes the arm sleeve on his Basketball Club Uniform—both the design and its function, which keeps his shots steady.

Jamil doesn’t normally choose colors like silver. It’s hard for him to feel comfortable in it.

He does not like accessories that can throw off his balance.

Warns others to be careful with delicate items such as corsages.

Jamil says prefers to not be bothered and to not stand out.

My impression: Compared to Kalim, Jamil's fashion is much more demure and dialed back. He still dresses well and fine fabrics so as to not bring shame to the Asims. For more casual attire, he prioritizes quality and comfort, preferring oversized and comfortable clothes he can easily move in. Probably avoid bug designs. Jamil wears his hair in an elaborate style but claims he doesn't think much of it + the accessories... which I don't personally buy for one second. It's one of the few things he has control over in his life, and why would he keep buying accessories and being gifted them if he supposedly doesn't care??? I think bro's humble bragging www

Vil

He, as a model and influencer, is familiar with the top brands and even works closely with some of them. He's well aware of the value of his face and won't allow others to use it without proper compensation.

He sometimes has to wear disguises to avoid paparazzi.

Notices little details like slightly different stripe thicknesses.

Vil is comfortable parading around in a variety of styles; he doesn’t seem to have a particular preference for one over the other, as he tends to have praise for whatever he finds himself wearing, as well as the clothes of other cultures. If an outfit can be stylish as well as functional, he can commend that too.

Often agrees with Crewel. For example, they both think Vargas has very "strange" tastes in fashion.

He won’t compromise on his looks. For example, he’ll bring an entire skincare routine with him when camping.

Expresses a jealousy towards his celebrity rival Neige's popularity. This may be in part to Vil being aware that he can't pull off the same "cute and innocent" aesthetic that Neige does.

Vil creates his own perfumes, skincare, and other cosmetics. He gives these to his dorm members as well.

Has scathing words for those who put no effort into their appearance and/or those who look down on caring about one's looks.

Notably, Vil is the concept of gender itself/j very comfortable wearing even very feminine outfits, such as more makeup-heavy looks or skirts/dress-adjacent additions.

My impression: One of the most fashion forward in the NRC cast, as well as one of the most flexible with his dress. He doesn't have one particular style he favors, though he is often seen in classic and elegant clothes that the public seems to think best suit his image. Vil is also gender non-conforming in his fashion, sometimes wearing traditionally "feminine" looks and being conident in it. Able and willing to call out what he deems as unseemly.

Rook

He used to cut his bangs with a knife. Back then, Rook was only concerned about keeping his vision clear. Nowadays, he ties his hair back when he exercises or cooks.

His hair is easily damaged by UV, so he has to take extra good care of it. Without that extra care, Rook says his hair becomes wheat-like in texture. Vil describes his old hair as being "long and unkempt" "dry and shaggy", and lacking in volume.

He used to wear denim jeans with holes and tears in them (as the result of animals). He also wore sweatpants often.

Rook tans easily; before meeting Vil, Rook didn't really have a skincare routine. His cheeks were freckled and the tip of his nose was red.

Vil says that Rook's only criteria for casual clothing used to be that it should be easy to move in. Rook has no trouble still hunting in his Pomefiore uniform, but also remarks that it was much easier to move in his Savanaclaw one.

Rook consistently wears hats. In his Savanaclaw days, the hat was consistently dirty with sticks, leaves, and soil. He recommends it to others as well to keep the sun out of their eyes while hunting.

He is also usually wearing gloves. This is probably because, as an archer, he needs to protect his hands when he pulls on the strings. Additionally, it could be that the gloves help to further conceal his presence (fingerprints).

His concept of beauty is not grounded in looks alone; Rook is able to appreciate even things others would typically consider ugly or odd.

Rook adopted a more elegant “Pomefiore” sense of style after he transferred and was encouraged by Vil to make himself as beautiful as the subjects he observed. To be clear, Rook states he does enjoy the Pomefiore uniform. He now also encourages others, such as Epel, to embrace the Pomefiore ways.

He says, "I never forget my duty to live up to the clothes I wear."

He doesn’t wear scent unless commanded to by Vil. This is because smell can give away his presence to others.

Rook has a keen eye for detail and can hone in on slight physical changes in both himself and in others.

My impression: Though Rook prioritizes dress that is easy to move in, allows him to hunt, and still conceals him, he currently dresses very differently and follows a new style that’s more in line with Pomefiore traditions. It’s not certain whether Rook still prefers his old threads and self-care routine, but he definitely seems loyal to his new ones at the moment. I get the sense that he really wants to "live up" to the standards of whatever outfit he has on.

Epel

Epel agrees with Deuce that flaming skulls would be a cool motif. It seems they share a sense of style.

He admits to having never thought much about his own appearance. If given the choice, however, Epel would prefer to be called cool rather than cute.

Epel appreciates the light, warm nature of the Applepom outfits. He's proud of his hometown and how the community comes together to prepare clothes and such for visitors.

Though Epel often scoffs at the skincare items Vil forces upon him, he does extol sunblock, as the sunlight bouncing off the snow of his home village can be very harsh.

He's somewhat clumsy, so he cannot handle outfits with excessive fabric too well. Epel tends to trip over himself.

He likes apple patterns on clothes, particularly the poison apple. Epel just thinks it's so cool!

Doesn't like tight clothing or clothes with ribbons and frills on them.

My impression: Epel wants to be seen as "cool"!! ... Which, if we know anything about Epel, is probably something along the lines of "traditionally masculine", seeing as how he looks up to people like Leona. He can learn to appreciate non-masculine outfits like his Rabbit Costume and Applepom, given the right circumstances (the former is rabbit-themed, which he likes, the latter is practical and comes from his hometown). His clothes should fit him and not be oversized in case he trips over it. Epel also favors apple patterns when possible.

Idia

Idia despises the idea of dressing up. It's implied that his usual threads are pretty plain (which makes sense; he doesn't like being stared at).

He repurposes his lab coat and goggles over his pajamas, finding the combo comfortable yet functional. The large pockets allow him to stash his phone or anything else he wants in them. The coat can also catch any spills or crumbs that get on it while he is snacking. Idia has modified the lenses to filter out blue light to make the goggles optimal for gaming. The gloves keep his fingers from getting sweaty and playing poorly. He gets all the functionality while others can't tell he's actually being a slob; Idia calls this "stealth mode".

Idia praises the functionality of the Applepom outfit as well. (The pom-pom on the hat is protective.)

There are rare instances in which Idia will praise the aesthetic; for example, he claims the gloves in his Lab Coat are part of the "aesthetic", but then he immediately continues to comment on the practicality of them.

Idia expresses that he is unable to relax when his hair is pulled back. This is likely because it called more attention to his face.

Very hyped about getting merch of his favorite things, such as a very exclusive T-shirt of his favorite girl group.

He speaks more confidently when he is wearing a mask or helmet, as it conceals his face.

Idia notices the quality and skill it takes to make cosplay. He incorporates his own knowledge of technology and materials to (for example) make a functional Halloween costume with light armor and sound effects.

My impression: Overall, Idia values function over form/looks and prefers his face to be hidden as much as possible. He chooses to dress in a non-descript way and loathes getting dolled up. There are exceptions to this rule; Idia can appreciate a good aesthetic and be passionate about clothing items if they are related to his niche otaku hobbies and interests.

Ortho

Ortho doesn't wear clothes like the traditional human would; rather, his parts can be switched out as needed. Many of his Gears are designed and installed by Idia, whom Ortho praises. He even refers to himself as his older brother's "masterpiece".

Ortho has a large span of capabilities depending on which Gear he is currently wearing, as each is designated with specific functions in mind. He describes Gears as containers he can upload his data into.

His body is capable of having many external add-ons. For example, Idia has made an Oral-Energy-Intake Gear so Ortho can simulate eating food on his birthday.

He thinks that cleaning his individual parts must take forever compared to just doing a load of laundry.

Ortho must consistently update his data to stay up to trend. To do this, he goes out to look at what's currently avaliable.

Post book 6, Ortho becomes more independent of Idia and more willing to design his own Gears. For example, Ortho is responsible for his White Rabbit Gear and contributes his own idea of "evolution" to his Fairy Gear (designed by Crewel).

Sometimes Ortho will ask Idia to make his Gears more decorative. For example, he requests that stars be added to his Starsending Gear.

Other times, Ortho will want to try out new Gears simply to sate his own curiosity. One example is in his Athletic Gear; he was curious about what it feels like to have feet, so Ortho asked Idia for them.

My impression: Like his older brother, Ortho values functionality. Unlike Idia though, Ortho is more experimental and curious with his looks. He actively goes out to gather more data about fashion and seeks new experiences which will enhance his own understanding of what it means to be human.

Malleus

Black is the color of Briar Valley’s royal family. Therefore, Malleus often wears large swathes of black.

He is not comfortable in clothes he barely wears such as his Ceremonial Robes. In the case of the robes, they stir up memories of being left out or uninvited.

Malleus points out the gold rose embroidery on the black fabric of his Masquerade Dress. He then remarks that the maker must “shares [his] tastes.”

Malleus is interested in uniforms. He thinks it is fascinating how, simply by wearing clothes, people assume a new role (such as “student” or “teacher”). Notably, be says few people dress “like this” in Briar Valley, implying that the fashion norms there are very different.

He notices striking makeup and accessories, as well as good fabric quality. Malleus invites others to take note of these too.

Malleus needs specially tailored headwear to accommodate for his horns. For example, his ceremonial robes have holes in the hood.

He rarely shows his tail, so it normally doesn’t need to be accounted for in his outfits.

My impression: I get the feeling that Malleus's fashion sense is elegant yet VERY outdated due to a combination of being so long-lived and sheltered. He seems interested in learning more about fashion as it relates to social status and occupations, but doesn't make a strong effort to explore it. It seems he also longs to be invited to events so he has an excuse to wear clothes that suit them, such as NRC's ceremonies. He defaults to wearing a lot of black to show off his affinity to the Briar Valley royal family.

Lilia

The most experimental in Diasomnia. He loves to paint his fingernails different colors, as well as dye his hair different colors.

In his days as a war general, he wore a mask that most humans would call scary. Lilia however thinks that the mask is "pretty stylish."

He cuts his own hair, as well as Silver and Malleus's.

Lilia is quite confident in his looks, often playing up and praising his own cuteness and charm.

He loves seeing clothing from cultures outside of his own.

Lilia notes that he used to wear stuffy uniforms to formal events. It seems he doesn't quite care for those clothes.

He is weak to the sun, so he has various methods to minimize his exposure and/or to deal with the sunlight.

Lilia doesn't mind clothes that impede him, such as his lab coat which has long sleeves. He "just [deals] with it" because he prefers his clothes to stay cute.

Like Vil, Lilia is another member of the cast that is comfortable wearing traditionally more "feminine" clothes, such as ruffles and skirts.

My impression: Lilia definitely has the most unique sense of style in Diamonia. Despite his age, he is flexible and willing to change with the times and cultures he encounters. He loves trying new things and adopting clothes, hair, and makeup that, although burdensome, enhance his cuteness. He also doesn't mind more "sinister" or edgy styles, such as what he wears for his Club Wear card and in his General's Armor card. Probably no formal clothes in his free time unless there's some added spice to it.

Silver

Silver thinks black uniforms are cool because Briar Valley's royal guard wears black too.

He grooms himself to "meet basic standards" but doesn't know much about fashion. Silver says he is 'clueless" about these kinds of matters.

He has a limited understanding of beauty in general. When Vil asks him to think of something beautiful, Silver replies with "Vil-senpai", and when Ortho tells him he looks like a fairy tale prince, Silver wonders if he looks like Malleus.

His headwear may be crooked sometimes, as Silver is falling asleep while standing up so often. He may also rub at his eyes, which smudges his makeup.

He likes practical clothing, nothing how his Dorm Uniform is easy to move in and how his Fairy Gala Couture boots could make for useful weapons in a pinch.

Silver thinks of some articles of clothing and accessories as obstacles. He notes that he may have to remove necklaces and such, as they could catch on his sword and impede him.

Other times, he thinks that bothersome items could serve as good training opportunities for him. For example, in his Masquerade Dress, his hat limits his field of vision but Silver says it can help him learn to be a better knight.

Silver reports that even if he is dressed up fancily, he is always prepared for emergencies.

My impression: Silver is (in my eyes) the least fashion forward of the group just based on his dialogue. He has a very limited way of thinking about how he dresses and prioritizes optimization for combat or training, not even considering how outfits look for the most part. Silver strikes me as the kind of guy who wears whatever others tell him to (particularly his dad), otherwise he'll go with something sensible and simple.

Sebek

Sebek maintains a neat and tidy appearance so as to not dishonor his liege.

He uses a LOT of hair gel to slick his hair back every day.

Sebek is sensitive to the cold, so he has to bundle up in the winter or snowy areas. He considers wearing a hat that covers his ears all year-round due to how comfortable he finds it.

He says he is not sure what clothes suit him best; he usually wears whatever he is given.

Sebek seems to favor protective gear, describing his coat for Vargas Camp as “durable, waterproof, [and] breathable”. He has lovingly stuck on Diasomnia iconography onto that rainwear too, really letting his inner fanboy speak.

Enthusiastic about clothes endorsed by Malleus and/or Lilia.

My impression: Like Jamil, Sebek takes care of his appearance so he, a servant, doesn't make his master look bad by association. This includes styling his hair so not a single strand of it falls in his face. He also seems to favor protective clothing, sharp uniforms, and anything with approval from Malleus or Lilia.

Crowley

Crowley presents as quite the vain character; he takes quick 3 minutes showers in the morning but leaves ample time for massages and beauty treatments.

He loves shiny things like jewels and precious metals, stating that he could stare at them forever if allowed to.

Crowley calls the mirrors on his belt beautiful. Again, this is probably because he likes shiny things.

He takes care of his shoes. When he notices they are even a little scuffed, he says that he will polish them until they are sparkling later.

He is reportedly never seen without his mask.

Students say they think Crowley would enjoy vacation clothes.

My impression: Crowley is upset when others—staff or student—do not give him the respect he feels he deserves. He is also shown many times over to care about the prestigious reputation of his school. If we extrapolate these feelings, it may explain why Crowley dresses the way he does: to come across like a respectable man, one who represents the interests of NRC (symbolized by the raven). The raven look may also just be because that’s the kind of fae he is, though this has not been confirmed by canon. Of course, he has also managed to incorporate the shiny accessories that catch his eye. People seem to think he likes vacation wear (such as Hawaiian shirts) due to his penchant to slack off.

Crewel

Crewel enjoys both current trends as well as vintage fashion; on his days off, he says he visits some vintage shops, as he finds older clothes that have lasted a long time have a certain aura about them that is hard to replicate.

He loves that the world of fashion is always evolving. It reminds him of his own inadequacies, which he works tirelessly to improve upon.

Crewel designs clothes and has done so for various students and himself. He is also shown to be capable of magically reinforcing them to be studier for combat.

He has experience working in the fashion industry prior to teaching. It’s clear that fashion is very near and dear to his heart, even to this day, since he continues to keep up with and engage with it.

Crewel also concocts his own cologne. He wears one of his own creations.

His fur coat is custom-made. It seems that he finds value in the uniqueness of it.

Crewel may share similar tastes and design philosophy as Vil, as the two work together in Fairy Gala and Fairy Gala: If to design and train the NRC runway models.

My impression: Crewel’s style strikes me as very flexible, forward-thinking, and willing to change. He demonstrates respect for both classic and modern fashions and doesn’t allow himself to be bound by a specific era. The man is always inventing something or on the hunt for the next best thing.

Trein

Trein claims that he is not particular at all with his outfits.

When asked about the way he dresses, he says he just makes sure his outfit and personal grooming befit that of a professor. This includes carrying around a lint roller to clean himself and the area of Lucius’s fur.

My impression: Though Trein doesn’t really seem to care for fashion, I wouldn’t say he has no sense for it or that he’s a slob—he very clearly puts effort into his appearance, if only to look professional. It’s just not an area he has a particular investment in, but he what he does take seriously is his job. This is therefore reflected in how perfectly groomed his appearance is.

Vargas

He prefers clothing that is easy to move around in; in one of his Unified Exam lines, he expresses that he cannot understand why Crewel’s fur coat is so expensive yet is also so impractical to move around in.

Vargas seems to canonically have a poor eye for aesthetics. In Vargas Camp, he appears in a strange beast-like outfit that he designed himself. In the sequel event, he gives Crewel a similarly eccentric and over-the-top outfit which everyone hints it is odd-looking. Vargas however thinks his designs are cool and powerful.

He suggests a heavier material for the school's P.E. uniforms so as to help the students enhance their muscles while they work out.

My impression: Vargas is really into sportswear/garments that are easy to move in, as well as things that look cool or strong to him (but are weird-looking to everyone else). He may also like clothes that help him with his training in other ways.

Sam

Sam states that he has multiples of the same suit that he just swaps around.

He explains the charm of his outfit as “whimsy peeking out from the formal”, most likely referring to the unique skeletal pattern on his suit.

Crewel states that Sam is aware of how he presents himself. Crewel also commends Sam's style as "unique" and "splendid", even if his tastes differ from Sam's.

My impression: Bro’s a NPC— I think Sam has said it pretty plainly himself; he likes formal clothes that have some fun or whimsical element to it. It also sounds like he doesn’t change up his style very often, given that he has so many of the same thing in his closet.

Yuu and Grim as a bonus

Yuu and Grim often have matching outfits whenever they get new ones (especially during events).

Grim loves outfits that make him stand out and emphasize his coolness. He tends to show off when he’s in something new.

Yuu realistically may have a NRC school uniform provided for them by Crowley; this is noted in the light novel (as in, Crowley actually hands Yuu a uniform), but not in the game or manga.

The Ramshackle Ghosts have made Halloween costumes for them out of old curtains. It follows that perhaps this is something they do for other occasions.

My impression: Aw, twinsies 🥺 That aside, Yuu and Grim have to take what they can get cuz otherwise Yuu’s literally only got the clothes on their back when they first arrived in Twisted Wonderland and Grim is basically naked. They can’t afford to be picky, just take whatever is handed to them and walk off with it

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magics-neptunes-things · 2 days ago

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Mockingjay - Part 8

Hi guys!

I'm sorry for the wait, I know that usually I give you the chapter on Friday, but I wasn't able to yesterday.

This one is a little darker, please be aware of that while reading it.

TW : Death, blood, injuries, grief.

Chapter before

Ona wakes up abruptly, a hand coming suddenly on her mouth to prevent her from shouting. She still is in the tree where she fell asleep a little earlier, while Teagan was supposed to stand guard. But it’s not him who is looking at Ona with undisguised anger.

It’s Lucy.

Eyes widened; Ona tries to move but Lucy doesn’t let her.

“What’s happening?” Ona whispers, Lucy’s hand always on her mouth.

“Did you kill him?” Lucy whispers-shout.

“What?”

Lucy’s voice is low, full of an anger that Ona doesn’t understand. Just like she doesn’t understand why Lucy is talking about. Ona tries to read more in Lucy’s eyes, but she can’t.

“What are you talking about?” the younger one finally says.

“Declan. Did you kill him?”

“What?” Ona frowns. “No, of course not.”

Lucy is still looking at her, but she finally removes her hand from Ona’s mouth. The latter takes advantage of it to look around them, looking for Teagan. But the young boy is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Teagan?” Ona asks.

But it doesn’t seem to be Lucy’s first interest. She seems so angry; Ona never saw her like this. She won’t say that she’s scared, but she’s definitely impressive like that. The situation is really mind blowing for Ona. She wanted so much to see Lucy one more time, but not like this.

“At the place where the Games began, there is a scoreboard. It says that you killed someone. If it wasn’t Declan, who was it?”

“The boy from the 5” Ona mumbles, not really wanting to remember that awful moment. “He was chasing Teagan at first and then he came back for us. I – I didn’t have any choice.”

Ona shivers and it has nothing to do with the cold. It is cold actually, but with the hoodie she’s wearing and the habit of the temperature, she was okay like this.

Lucy seems to think about Ona’s answer, looking at her while squinting her eyes. She seems furious. Ona can understand because she was pretty close to Declan, but there is no world where Ona could kill him.

“If it’s not you, who was it?”

Ona rolls her eyes and crosses her arms on her chest. Now that the surprise is passed, she has trouble keeping up with the way Lucy is talking to her.

“Your two girlfriends. He was with them at the lake, right? They pushed him in the water. I don’t know what is really inside the water, but he died almost immediately. Then there was this strange fog coming from the lake and I think it’s what killed Lilith too. I was in a house in the city with Teagan, we had time to run away. They were closer to the lake; Lilith didn’t get that chance. I guess Kayla didn’t explain things like this?”

When Lucy always seems to hesitate, Ona stands up a little bit more to face her. She doesn’t know what happened to Lucy for her to have doubts about her like that, but Ona doesn’t like it.

“If you don’t believe me, why don’t you look at the scoreboard? I’m pretty sure you know everything your friends do, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t show the score from the death’s people.”

“How convenient” Ona snorts.

They look at each other for several seconds. Ona feels sad and angry at the same time. She wanted to see Lucy one more time to have a good memory of her, not a fight about something like this.

“Who told you I killed Declan?” Ona asks finally.

“Kayla” Lucy answers only.

Kayla, or the only one of the trios from the lake who survived. It made Ona roll her eyes at the thought. Of course, it’s easier to accuse someone else of her betrayal. It makes Ona sick that Lucy chose to believe Kayla and not her.

She doesn’t know why Kayla was accusing her, though.

“Why would she say that?” Ona frowns softly.

“That is exactly my point.”

That icy tone, again. Ona bites her lips, not knowing what to answer to that. But she doesn’t look away when Lucy looks at her right in the eyes.

“Where is Teagan?” Ona asks again.

“He went to the river for some water. He’s not a very good guard if you want my opinion.”

“At least he believes me” Ona points out.

Lucy opens her mouth to answer but that is at this very moment that they hear someone walking in their direction. Ona could now recognize Teagan’s footsteps easily. She wanted to tell Lucy that it was him, but the older girl hurries to get out of her tree.

“Lucy!” Ona whispers.

She doesn’t hear Lucy’s answer or if she does, she even can’t see her since she jumps off the tree. Ona feels her heart breaking. This talk was worse than anything else in the world. She just has time to recompose her poker face when Teagan arrives.

“Where were you?” Ona asks him.

“I was thirsty. I didn’t think you’d wake up”

“You can’t leave like that” Ona answers maybe a little too harshly. “What if something happens to you and I’m not here?”

“I’m sorry?”

He seems a little surprised by Ona outburst, and the brunette takes a deep breath to calm herself. Teagan isn’t the reason for her fight with Lucy, he doesn’t have to deal with Ona’s bad mood.

“No, I’m sorry” Ona sighs softly. “Just tell me when you leave, okay?”

The young boy nods softly, smiling shyly at Ona. The girl smiles back at him, before looking at the sky. She is bored sitting on that tree to be honest, even if she knows it was what they decided with Alexia. But she doesn’t even know all the arena, even if Teagan gave her some information about it.

“I was thinking that we can make a reserve of food and water and go to the desert, what do you think? They won’t come to look for us there.”

After all, who can say to Ona that Lucy won’t come back with the other tributes? She’s not sure about anything anymore. She doesn’t want to explain to Teagan why she proposes that, but the boy seems happy about that idea. He proposes to go pick up some fruits while Ona goes for more water.

They even take some wood, with the lighter they found and the pan, they are even able to boil some water just in case. Without a second thought, they leave their tree to start walking towards the desert.

“I’m not sure that the starting point will be safe” Ona thinks out loud after several minutes. “Maybe we should take a detour”

Teagan doesn’t discuss this and follows Ona when she decides to stay close to the river during the walk. Lucy went to the starting point; she told her some hours before. Maybe it’s where she is now staying with her teammates. She wonders how many people Seth and Camden have killed since the beginning of the Games.

“Have you heard that?”

Ona frowns and turns in Teagan’s direction. She stops walking, trying to hear what Tegan might have heard.

“Wolves” she whispers after having heard them. “Let’s not stay here, come on.”

Even if she would rather cross the path of a wolf than Camden, she still wants to live as long as possible. They are not close to the mountain or even the snow, but after all no one can force wolves to stay where they are supposed to be. Plus, they might be hungry after several days.

“They seem close” Teagan mumbles, saying out loud what Ona didn’t want to think about.

“It’s okay. When we will be in the desert, they won’t follow us.”

She still walks a little faster though, her ears are attentive to any suspicious noise. Now she’s careful about human and animal sounds. Ona just really hopes that she won’t have to fight against snake or aggressive camels in the desert.

They were out of the forest now. Ona can see the buildings where they start the Games several days before from here. It’s just a long plain now, grass as far as the eye can see. Until she’s finally able to see what looks like some sand after. The bad news is that there is a big land dip between the grass and the sand.

The river falls into it, but Ona can’t hear the sound of the water falling in a lake below or even on the ground. The height must be appalling.

“We need to find a way to cross it” Teagan says.

Ona nods and looks around, but she doesn’t see anything who might help them. No bridge, no branch long enough to go on the other side.

“How deep is that hole?” Teagan asks, leaning a little to have a better view.

“Want to go see it by yourself?”

The male’s voice makes them both turn around and Ona feels her stomach drop. Camden and Seth are in front of them, both looking very scary. Camden has one of his knees hidden behind a big home-made bandage. It’s bloody. Ona doesn’t know who hurt him, but it doesn’t look good.

Just like their life right now.

In an instinctive way, Ona puts her arm in front of Tegan to make him go behind her. She knows it will be hard for her to protect him. Unlike last time, there isn’t any tree for her to hide him.

“Who hurted you, Sweetheart?” Seth asks, coming closer to Ona acting like he wants to touch her face.

“Go away” Ona grumbles, making a move to avoid his touch.

She looks for the knife attached to her backpack, taking it in her hand. She still knows she doesn’t have any chance, especially with two of them in front of her. But she still can hurt them too, making it easier for anyone else to kill them.

Maybe Lucy. By the way, where is she now? Did they kill her?

Her panic quickly goes down again when she reminds herself that she hasn’t heard any canon for a long time now. The last time it was when she killed that boy. She probably is alright.

“Are you really getting ready to fight?” Camden chuckles.

But Ona doesn’t answer. She looks at them with attention, ready to fight the first one who will try his chance. The worst possibility is that they both attack her at the same time, she doesn’t know she’s supposed to escape them in that case.

Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened. They just share a look at one point and run towards Ona and Teagan. It’s the kind of move and understanding coming after having trained it several times.

Teagan screams but Ona doesn’t say anything. Both men are fighting with their bare hands, even if Ona saw that they have weapons. Apparently, they don’t seem to think that they will need it to fight.

She’s not afraid about using her knife herself, protecting Teagan and herself as much as she can. She knows she can’t kill them, but if she hurts them enough, maybe they will have time to run away. Camden is the weaker one because of his injury, so Ona concentrates her attacks on him.

At some point, Teagan manages to escape the brawl, crawling to the backpacks Seth and Camden left on the floor.

But Seth sees him.

“Hey! He’s taking your hammer!” he shouts to Camden.

The boy turns around to look and Ona takes advantage of it to hit him on his injured knee with her knife. Hard.

“Teagan, run!” Ona shouts to the boy, over Camden’s howling of pain.

The hammer makes a metallic sound when Teagan lets it fall on the ground. It must be heavy. Enraged, Camden gives her a massive kick in her stomach while Seth chases Teagan. The hit cuts off Ona’s breath, preventing her from getting up.

Between Camden’s legs, she can see Teagan running, but it looks like he’s coming closer to them again. Ona doesn’t understand his move, until she sees him jumping on Camden’s back. He manages to make him fall, sadly on Ona. Ona can’t retain a whimper of pain.

“Enough! Throw them on the cliff!”

Seth is near them again. He seems to have had enough of this fight, maybe a little ashamed to have been threatened by a girl and a child.

After that, this is a mess of arms, kicks and shouts. Ona and Teagan are fighting for their life.

“Ona!”

Ona can hear Lucy’s voice and her head turns in the direction of the sound automatically. She’s even able to see her for half of a second before being thrown into the void, Teagan next to her.

“No!”

Lucy’s scream would probably have emotionalized every single person on earth, but it’s not Ona’s important point for now.

Ona managed to clutch at a root, several metres from the surface. Teagan didn’t have that chance. Grief burns her throat, and she has tears in her eyes, preventing her from seeing properly.

Her arms are burning too. After all those days without having eaten and slept enough, she doesn’t have the same strength as before.

There are grunts and noise of fights under Ona’s head. It seems like Lucy forgot all the thoughts she has about keeping herself safe with her alliance. Ona tries to ease the burning of her arms and shoulders by pushing on her legs, but the walls are dusty and the more she tries, the more pebbles and sand are falling under her.

She doesn’t want to give up though, wanting to catch Lucy when she falls. And maybe help her to reach the surface again.

But it surprisingly isn’t Lucy who falls almost two metres away from her. It’s Seth. Ona froze, looking at his body falling until she couldn’t see him anymore. Soon after, there are two shots of cannon.

One for Seth.

One for Teagan.

“Right, run away to your lying bitch, asshole!”

Lucy’s voice is shaking with what Ona thinks is anger. Ona wants to call the other girl, but she doesn’t have the strength to. She’s not even sure that Lucy is still here anyway.

At least she was able to see her one more time, Ona thinks. And she wasn’t angry this time. Closing her eyes, Ona let her forehead go against the wall. She knows she won’t last long. She just wants to visualise Lucy’s face one more time.

Lucy doesn’t know what pushed her to have a look at the cliff. She didn't realise that there were only two shots of cannon, not three. All she knows is that when she sees Ona, she feels like her heart is starting to beat again.

“Ona” she whispers at first, falling on her knees to see her better before getting into action again. “Ona!” she calls a little harder, not wanting to scare the other girl anyway.

They share a look when Ona raises her hand in her direction and Lucy can say that Ona doesn’t have any strength left.

“Okay, hold on. Hold on, please.”

She doesn’t let Ona answer anything before running to Seth and Camden’s backpack. She knows what is inside, but she doesn’t waste any time, she just flips them upside down to grab the rope she was looking for.

Lucy then runs to the cliff, terrified at the idea of Ona being not here anymore. She is barely holding it. But she is.

“Grab it” Lucy instructs, throwing a part of the rope to Ona.

The younger one wraps it around one of her arms, ignoring the burning against her skin. With her other arm, she grabs it and looks up again.

She can’t see Lucy anymore, but she can feel how much strength she’s putting in the effort to take her on the surface again. Ona feels like it’s taking an eternity and she’s pretty sure that she can feel Lucy’s strength getting low. Just when she wanted to tell her to just let her go, Ona can see grass again.

Ona lets go of the rope with one hand, grabbing the grass and the dirt while she pushes on the wall with her legs. The hope gives her suddenly more strength. With a last combined effort, Lucy and Ona manage to put Ona in security again. Or at least on the ground.

Lying on the ground, Ona tries to take her breath. The sky is grey under their head, and she doesn’t know if her breathing is hard because of Teagan’s death or the efforts she just put her body in.

“We need to move” Ona hears Lucy say. “I’m pretty sure Camden will come back with Kayla. I should have killed her earlier, why was I so stupid!”

While Ona sits, Lucy puts all the things she thinks they will need into a backpack. Teagan’s one having fallen with him.

“Can you walk?”

Ona can see Lucy’s concern in her eyes. She feels out of it, like if her head isn’t with her body anymore. Ona gets up, trying to ignore how her head spins at the movement. She doesn’t even realise that she’s falling, until Lucy catches her, passing her arm around her waist.

“Okay, we’re going to do things in another way.”

Ona looks at Lucy putting a bag on her stomach, before putting the other on Ona's back. Then she makes Ona climb on her back and starts to walk.

“Lucy…” Ona whispers, rocked by Lucy's quick walk.

“Sh. Just take deep breaths and don’t fall asleep, okay?”

Ona just hums, letting her head go into Lucy’s neck. Not falling asleep is harder than she thought. She feels lulled by Lucy’s movements and her scent.

At some point, Ona feels better enough to let the guilt be too big to let Lucy carry her like this for any longer. She kisses Lucy’s neck, smiling softly when she feels the goosebumps under her lips.

“I can walk” Ona finally says.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah”

Lucy stops to slowly put Ona on the ground again. She looks at her closely, looking at any sign that Ona wasn’t feeling good. But Ona does, or at least as much as she can with her injuries.

“Where are we going?”

Ona doesn’t recognize that part of the arena, she never came here before.

“To the mountain. If we get higher, we can see them better.”

Ona nods and lets Lucy grab her hand before starting to walk again. She loses track of time, only concentrating on not falling on a rock. And Lucy’s warm hand in hers. At some point, it starts snowing and Lucy takes them into a cave.

“I saw you had wood in your bag, I’m going to make a fire, okay?”

Ona nods. Lucy choses a part of the cave hidden from the enter, to avoid the wind. And Ona realises it a little later, not to be seen by someone else. Ona just stays here, looking at the light from the fire on the walls. She realises that she’s crying only when Lucy sits next to her.

Lucy puts her hand softly on Ona’s back and it’s enough for the younger one to break.

“I wanted to save him. I just couldn’t” she chokes between tears and sobs.

Teagan’s death is hard to reach for Ona. They spend almost all their time together in the arena. She knew they had only little chance, but in her head, Teagan always would outlive her. She imagined that she would give her life for him.

“Hey now, you did everything you could to save him. You saved him several times before today.”

Lucy’s voice is soft, softer than she ever was.

“It wasn’t enough” Ona whispers through her tears.

“It’s okay” Lucy whispers.

Lucy passes both of her arms around Ona waist, taking her against her to rock her softly. Ona doesn’t really understand the sweet nothing Lucy whispers into her ears while comforting her, to be honest. But Lucy’s voice is enough.

“I’m sorry I arrived too late to save you both” Lucy says at some point, when Ona stops crying. “I thought I was too late for you too”

Her voice is only a whisper now, barely stronger than the crackling of the fire in front of them.

“But then I saw you grabbing this root… I was never as relieved as at that moment. I thought I lost you forever.”

Ona sniffles and raises her head to look at Lucy. Until now she had her head on her shoulder, her eyes lost somewhere on the fire. She must look awful but Lucy cups her cheek with the most tender gesture ever and uses her thumb to wipe Ona’s tears.

“Even if I were dead, you wouldn’t have lost me.” Ona whispers.

Into Lucy’s eyes, Ona forgets everything. She forgets her injuries, her stomach who hurts like crazy. The grief of Teagan’s death and the fact that they now have mortal enemies, probably looking for them everywhere.

“My parents aren’t okay with me being gay” Lucy blurts suddenly. “That is why Jorge was the only one who came to say goodbye. They were ashamed of me being their daughter.”

“How can someone be ashamed of you?” Ona thinks out loud, before shaking her head softly. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I’m going to kiss you.”

And she does. They haven’t kissed for days now, the last time it was before the Games. The kiss is tentative, Lucy’s hand always on Ona’s cheek. But it’s enough to make Ona melts.

Ona presses her body against Lucy after several seconds, but the pain of her injuries are waking up. She can’t help but groan in pain, making Lucy let go of her very quickly.

“It’s nothing” Ona assures when she crosses Lucy’s panicked eyes. “I think I have some bruises somewhere.”

After that, Lucy looks closely at Ona for the first time. She already had seen her face and eyes injured earlier, when they talked in the tree. But now she can see the burns on Ona’s arms, where the rope was.

And of course, Ona took some violent kicks from her fight with Camden and Seth.

“I saw that you had some cream in your backpack, could they be used to those injuries?” Lucy asks.

“I don’t know. I received it from the sponsors, after my face’s injury.”

Lucy hums, reaching for it. Ona gives it to her, looking at Lucy who sniffs it.

“Mh. Maybe we will use it just to your face, just in case.”

Ona nods. She doesn’t want to die because she puts the wrong cream at the wrong place on her body. She wanted to take it back from Lucy’s hand, but the dark-haired girl hides it behind her back.

“Close your eyes” she says.

Ona rolls her eyes and obliges, letting Lucy put the cream on her face. She is soft and tender, and Ona feels her body relax a little bit at the touch. She could sleep right now.

“Who hurts you like this?”

It reminds Ona about Seth’s question earlier, but this time there is no fun behind it. It’s just genuine concern.

“The boy from the 5. I can’t remember his name.”

“Is he the one you killed?”

“Yeah”

Lucy stays silent after this, still taking care of Ona. She insists on seeing Ona’s other injuries, making the girl roll her eyes again. Lucy cleans Ona’s burning on her hand and puts some cold water on her stomach, where she got kicked by Camden.

“Now sleep” Lucy finally says when she’s fine with the care she gave to Ona.

Ona frowns and opens her mouth to talk, but Lucy silences her by putting a finger on her lips.

“Sleep. I’ll take care of you.”

“Wake me up in four hours if I’m still asleep” Ona asks.

“Sure” Lucy snorts.

She won’t do it; they both know it already. But Lucy only has to stroke Ona’s hair for two minutes before the girl is out of the world, feeling really safe for the first time since she left her District.

“This is the first time we are sleeping together” Ona mumbles into Lucy’s knee when she snuggles against her.

Lucy hums, still stroking Ona’s hair. She has a lot to ask to Ona, just like Ona probably has a lot to ask at her. They will talk tomorrow. Tomorrow it will be them against the rest of the world, but for now, Ona needs to rest.

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #lucy bronze #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy bronze x ona batlle #lucy and ona #lucy bronze imagine #woso x hunger games

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inamindfarfaraway · 25 minutes ago

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YES

The Little Match Girl and Tiny Tim are meant to be best friends. Impoverished kids? Check. Doomed by the narrative, the failings of classist society and their fragile health? Check. Saved by Scrooge’s intervention? Check.

(The retelling of The Little Match Girl takes place on Christmas Day and night instead of New Year’s Eve, hence the crossover lining up in “Christmas Day” since she’s alive at that time, meaning that her death is an AU where Scrooge doesn’t reform. So he’s free to rudely bump into her “in the fading light between day and night” in “Buy a Match” instead of being at Fred’s party. She and Tim both die in the same bad timeline! Adds a new layer to him taking one of her candles and blowing it out in “Be the Light”.)

But Tim has two amazing parents and a large, loving family. LMG only has her abusive dad and dead grandmother; her mother isn’t mentioned, and probably left or died before she could remember and grieve her, unlike Grandma. In the original fairytale, it’s stated that her dad will beat her if she comes home empty-handed. Scrooge also had a dad who was neglectful and “pretty cruel”, sending him away a lot as a kid to spend Christmas alone, an unmentioned mother and a different female relative who he directly mourns, his sister. “And Little Match Girl was left all alone”/“I see a boy sitting all alone”. They can bond over their tragic backstories! They can figure out what it means to have and be a good father together! And Bob and Emily can teach them both how good parenting works!

A scene in A Christmas Carol that’s rarely adapted is the Ghost of Christmas Past showing Scrooge how Belle’s been without him in her life: fantastic! She has a nice house, a happy marriage and loads of children. He’s struck with longing for that domesticity and familial love. An excerpt:

And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life, his sight grew very dim indeed.

‘Belle,’ said the husband, turning to his wife with a smile, ‘I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon.’

‘Who was it?’ ‘Guess!’

‘How can I? Tut, don't I know,’ she added in the same breath, laughing as he laughed. ‘Mr. Scrooge.’

‘Mr. Scrooge it was. I passed his office window; and as it was not shut up, and he had a candle inside, I could scarcely help seeing him. His partner lies upon the point of death, I hear; and there he sat alone. Quite alone in the world, I do believe.’

‘Spirit!’ said Scrooge in a broken voice, ‘remove me from this place.’

Ebenezer Scrooge. Canonically. In the original novella. Wants a daughter. If in the VHS Christmas Carols universe, the Little Match Girl survives and Jim gets his watch back, it’s only fair that Scrooge gets a daughter of his own!

So uh AU where Scrooge adopts the little match girl and he finds out about Della being Belle's daughter and then Scrooge, the match girl, Della & Jim and the Cratchits all become one big happy family?

(I love them all sm)

#vhs christmas carols #vhscc #vhsccs #vhscc spoilers #vhsccs spoilers

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rainbow-nerdss · 3 days ago

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fuck it friday!

I was tagged by @hippolotamus and @spotsandsocks 🧡 thank you both!

Here's a little dad!buck 🥰

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to listen in, but I was gonna ask you something, and then I heard…” He looks between Buck and Eddie, then down at Buck’s phone in his hand. “You have a kid?” he asks. Buck nods, gestures to the chair. “I do. I just found out, really. Her name’s Fia.” He’s more nervous showing Chris her picture than he had been with Eddie, even Maddie. “She’s so cute,” Chris says. “How did… You didn’t know at all?” he asks. Buck looks over at Eddie who sits back, gesturing for Buck to go ahead and explain. Buck huffs out a breath. Thanks, Eddie. “Uh… no. I-I didn’t know. Her mom and I… We weren’t in a relationship, really. I guess, by the time she found out she was pregnant, I was already dating someone else, and she decided to keep it to herself.” Chris makes a face. “That’s really shitty.” “Language!” Eddie nudges Chris’s shoulder. Buck doesn’t miss the fact that the language is the only thing he chose to correct, there. “Well,” Buck shrugs. “I don’t know. You didn’t know me back then—I don’t think I had… Dad qualities, exactly. And, you know, she was probably scared.” Chris rolls his eyes. “You said she’s four. That’s pretty much how long I’ve known you. You can’t have changed that much between when she got pregnant and when we met.” Buck looks down at his hands. “So, you… you think I’d be a good dad?” he asks. Chris just stares at him. “I mean, obviously?" Chris makes a face at Eddie, like he can't believe what he's hearing. "Stop fishing for compliments, Buck. Can we get take-out later?”

Tagging everyone who interacted with this post 🧡 ily all!

@epicbuddieficrecs @slowlyfoggydestiny @diazsdimples @diazheartsbuckley @speaknowbuckley

@buddieboos @dangerpronebuddie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @disasterbuck

@theotherbuckley @your-catfish-friend @steadfastsaturnsrings @aspecbuddie @daddy-kinard @inell

#my writing #girldad buck fic

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gh0stly-pages · 2 days ago

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Out of Our Minds (Part Four)

Ledger!Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of blood

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Summary: More sessions pass and while you learn more about the Joker, the pull you feel towards him grows stronger. Yet this time, it feels like everything is starting to change...

Previous part: Part 3

Notes: We back, and things are really picking up this time. Hope this distracts everyone who might be going through a tough time right now. <3 Things really pick up in this one, and I'm already excited to drop the next part lol. Have fun with this one!

With every session your infatuation for the Joker only grows.

At first, you tell yourself it comes from your want (well, need) for him to progress, both for the sake of actually seeing him healed and for the sake of your survival. Then eventually, you think it comes from the fact that his mind truly is incomprehensible, and you want to know what’s going on inside of it, want to crack open his skull and see every gear. But now, you’re not even sure what it is exactly that keeps you feeling empty anytime you’re not in a session with the Joker. You don’t know what you’re chasing anymore. Everything is just one big mind fuck.

Slowly, the Joker becomes more and more human to you. Where others still see some kind of raving, homicidal madman, you see a person.

As your sessions carry on, you tell him more things about you, and you learn more things about him. He likes junk food. He is skilled with almost every gun known to man. He owns over thirty blades. His sleep schedule is so all over the place that he doesn’t even know what day it is ever. He prefers nights over mornings. He drinks his coffee with lots of creamer. Every fact you’ve tucked away in your mind and you’re not sure for what.

You like it when he tells you something personal about himself, but he likes when you do it even more. “I was a gymnast for a long time,” you told him once, much to his surprise. Even you hadn’t expected to get into that part of your life. “I had to stop once I started going to school, just got too busy, but I was real good at it.”

“Gymnastics, huh?” He said, grinning, and you figured he must be imagining you, usually so rigid, flying through the air. It sounded like a joke. You were surprised he wasn’t laughing. “So, you’re pretty, ah, light on your feet?”

You smiled to yourself, thinking of all the memories. It had felt so nice to throw yourself into all that hard work. When you were flipping in the air, you felt free. “Guess you could say that. Certainly hasn’t come in handy though, in my line of work.”

“It may come in handy with mine. You’d probably make a good fighter, Doctor l/n.”

The thought of you fighting anyone made you laugh out loud. Have you thought about fighting people before? Of course. All your life people have hurt you and you wanted to hurt them back. But in the end, you had decided that wouldn’t do any good. Now, however, as you kept imagining it, the Joker appeared at your side, and you were winning this fight, him laughing maniacally beside you. It sent a sort of thrill through you. You didn’t like it. “Luckily, I’m not in your line of work.”

He had winked. “You can always change your mind.”

Alongside learning bits of things about him, he also taught you a few new skills, probably antsy to test them out considering he’s strapped to a bed most of the time. He (as best as he could still cuffed to a table) tried to teach you to pick a lock, how to get a perfect shot with a gun, how to rig up TNT. It was nothing you needed to know, nor anything you thought he should be thinking about, but you went along anyway because it was best he knew you were there to support his interests. As dark as they were…. You’d work on that.

After your last session, you decided to bring something up to Mr. Dale.

“Doctor y/n, your progress has been very minimal,” he had commented as you walked up to him, before you could even open your mouth.

You frowned. “It’s the Joker, sir. It’s not going to move very fast-“

“Well, I am tired of waiting. The longer he sits in that cell I fear the worse he’ll get, and then what? He snaps and tries to kill us all?” He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. You wanted to smack him. “Is there any way you could hurry up the process?”

Don’t rush me, was what you wanted to scream, but that wasn’t going to get you anywhere but kicked to the curb. “I do think I have an idea,” you said, trying to direct him to why you came up to him in the first place. “You need to let me bring in his makeup.”

Mr. Dale’s eyebrows shot up. And, of course, he began to laugh. If it weren’t for growing used to the Joker doing it so often, it would really piss you off. “You want to turn him back into a clown? Miss l/n, I fear that would only encourage him.”

“First off, it’s Doctor l/n,” you point out sternly. You’ve had enough of him treating you like less. If there’s another thing the Joker has taught you, it’s to not take shit from others. “And second, I want him to embrace himself. If he can be this clown persona he sees him as, we can take this persona and shape it so that it’s less… violent. Then, the makeup will no longer be something he associates with villainy. Please, Mr. Dale, I know what I’m talking about.”

You smiled wide as Mr. Dale’s face fell, absolutely shattered by your words. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “Alright, Doctor l/n, I will allow it however if it ends badly-“

“It wont.”

“You’re getting too comfortable. It’s his fault, I’m sure. I was right, he breaks people.”

You wish you could grab him by the collar and pull him close, but instead you settle on a deadly glare, looking him right in the eye. “I’m not broken. J isn’t broken.”

“Well, you’ve changed.”

You scoffed and turned away. “See you later, Mr. Dale.”

You have changed. You’re not sure if it’s for the better or not.

—————————

For your session, you walk in with a gentle smile, the tubes of makeup in your bag clinking together. You’re going to keep it a surprise, for later in the season. You’re not really sure why you feel giddy, but you do. It sort of outweighs your exhaustion, you’d run to the store late that night to pick up the same paints the Joker was said to have used. And when the guards finally let you in through the door, your smile grows even wider at the sight of the Joker, who is already smiling back at you. Not just because of the scars, it’s an actual smile. At first, his smiles had been menacing, but now you feel they’re actually kind of… nice. “Well, hello, doll face. So lovely to see you again.”

“Hiya, Mr. J,” you respond, taking your seat. “How are you doing today?”

“You know me, Doctor l/n, your presence puts me in a much better mood.” He props his chin up on his fist. “You look beautiful today.”

The past few sessions, Joker has certainly grown more flirty. It’s not something you’re a stranger to, the other patients have tried their hand at it, usually to try and get on your good side, but it’s different coming from Joker. You know he likes to rile you up, but you can’t help but feel the words are mostly genuine. “I look like this everyday,” you point out, not wanting to show him how his words affect you.

“And you are, ah, beautiful everyday, doll.”

“Mr. J, refrain from flattery, please.”

He bows his head, pretending to be upset like a kicked puppy. “Oh, you’re no fun sometimes, Dr. l/n. You know I like to tease ya.”

“Some of the guards told me you’re allowed to roam around your cell now,” you say, trying to switch the subject before he can completely throw you off course. He’s good at that. “How are you liking that?”

“Hmmmm, well, I, ah, went from being stuck permanently standing in a small cell and now I can walk around the cell. Once you’ve walked it once you’ve, ah, seen it all.” He looks to one side of the room. “A wall there.” His head swerves to the other. “Oh, and one there too! What a surprise!” He chuckles to himself. Nothing makes Joker laugh more than his own nonsense.

“So, not much better?”

Joker shakes his head. “Nah ah ah, not one bit. Can barely even make a ruckus too, the doors conceal all my banging and kicking and laughing. The guards can’t even get annoyed with me.”

You bite your cheek. “You really like being a nuisance, huh?”

“I do like to make people tick.” He wets his lips. “Especially pretty psychiatrists with sharp minds.”

Already, you can feel your cheeks warming. Embarrassment, that’s all it is. You, once again, try and take the conversation back to what you actually need to be in there for. “How about we get started, huh?”

Joker nods, smacking his lips together. Despite how much he licks them, they’re always chapped, the skin cracking. “What am I in for today? I feel we’ve talked about everything we possibly can.”

“And yet you’re no closer to getting out of here, are you?” You smirk at him as you bring out your clipboard. “I feel like I’ve been keeping it too light these past few sessions. I’ve learned a lot about you but you still won’t let me reach past the barrier.”

“What barrier?”

“The barrier between you and whoever you were before you became the Joker.”

His lips twist into a frown. Again, his past touches a nerve. “Dolly,” he warns, “I’ve told you, whatever came before doesn’t matter. I’ve always been the Joker. You won’t find anything past that.”

Once again, Joker is being a stubborn ass. As much as you enjoy talking with him, he also drives you nuts. “You’re saying your life started once Batman came to the scene?”

“He gave me purpose. What’s a joke without the punchline? Batman is the punchline.”

“You were a child once, Joker.”

“Like most people, yes.”

“And how was your childhood?”

He ignores your question, grumbling as he stares at his cuffed wrists, rotating them as you sit there expectantly. You realize he’s not going to answer you and groan. So, he doesn’t want to dive into the past. You’re not going to force him. Prying was never the best way to go about things. You’d leave it alone again… for now. “Okay, sorry, Mr. J, we can move on. Is there anything that you’d like to talk about?”

Joker raises an eyebrow, not confused but suspicious. “You’re just gonna turn it into some kind of analysis moment, aren’t you?”

He knows me too well. “Well, that is my job. But no. Just, talk to me.” You hold your hands together, resting your chin on them. “About anything.”

“Hmmmm.” He looks like he’s having trouble thinking of something. “I’ve been thinking about Batman.”

“B-Man.” Of course. “What have you been thinking about him?”

“Those last moments I saw him, his expression. He looked so shattered.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, and you’re sure your face betrays this but he goes on anyway. “Oh, I’d live for a moment like that again. Seeing Batman react to my schemes, it’s so pleasing.”

“Do you consider your vendetta against Batman more for yourself or on behalf of the people of Gotham?”

He points at you. “There’s the analysis question. You can calm down there, Doc.” Joker coughs. “Behalf makes me sound like mister tall, dark, and dorky,” he snorts. “I’m trying to pull back everyone’s mask, but especially the Bat’s. I mean I, ah, already broke down Harvey Dent.”

That makes you go still. You hadn’t thought much on Harvey Dent, or how what Joker did may have affected him. You’re not sure if broken is the right word. Maybe scarred. Figures. “The explosion. Right.”

“Poor, poor Harvey Dent. Gotham’s White Knight broke right in half. All because of me!”

You frown. “Harvey Dent died a noble man, Joker. Batman killed him all because Harvey was trying to do good.”

Joker’s eyebrows shoot up. “Harvey Dent is dead? And Batsy killed him?”

Oh, fuck. You clap a hand over your mouth, shaking your head. You weren’t supposed to say anything. It was an accident, you hadn’t meant to let it slip. “I… no, I mean, yes but-“ you stumble to try and cover it up but there’s no going back. Joker knows. And, honestly, who cares? He was going to figure it all out eventually. You take a deep breath. “Yes. Harvey Dent is dead. Batman killed him and five other people. And then Batman… he disappeared.”

Joker shoots up from his chair, and it takes you aback, causing you to squeal. You instinctively push your back into the chair while Joker looms over you. You’re not sure what he’s feeling, his mouth a thin line, his nostrils fuming. “Doll, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” he hisses.

“I… my bosses didn’t want me to. They were scared of what you’d do. That this would inspire you…”

You wait for him to yell, to react violently, but instead he laughs. This time though, it isn’t a creepy giggle or a small chuckle, it’s a full body laugh, the kind that contorts his body. It sounds like it hurts. “Batsy killing people?” he chokes out. “I don’t believe it. No, I don’t believe it-tah one bit.” He clutches his stomach. “Batman is a very hard person to break, believe me.”

“You… you don’t think he killed all those people?”

“Ha! Absolutely not. He would’ve killed me too, he had me in the perfect place to do it, multiple times. No no no, something’s wrong about this…”

Slowly, you loosen your posture, moving back closer to the table. You’ve never even thought that any of that mess could have been something made up. “I’m confused,” you admit.

“Doll, do you know how hard I tried to get Batman to kill me? He won’t do it! He just won’t. He’s got his, ah, one rule, his precious little moral code. He had me in the perfect position to kill me so many times yet he didn’t take any of those chances. Yet now he says he’s killed off five people including Gotham’s little savior? Puh-lease. There’s more to this story than they’re letting up.”

You hadn’t thought about it that way at all. Well, probably because you had no reason to. Joker knew more about Batman than any Gothamite did. You didn’t know much about him other than his attempts at stopping crime. Who were you to know Batman supposedly didn’t kill? You admit, it was strange that he had a streak of getting rid of criminals in ways that didn’t involve killing, then suddenly turned and killed a few people? “Are you sure you didn’t… break him?”

“No, if I did I’d know it. I’d feel it. The Bat is about as stubborn as me, doll. And now he’s in hiding?” He sniggers, a hand gently touching his lips. “Sounds like some kind of, ah, twisted joke. The Bat is hiding something.”

“I’m sure he’s hiding lots of things.”

“Whatever this is though I’m curious about it.”

Of course. You just ignited a flame in him. Idiot. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing they got nine lives.”

The more you think about it, the more intrigued you are. Batman has always been shrouded in mystery for you. Was he good? Was he bad? And now it turns out his story is all over the place, that it doesn’t make sense? You kind of wanted to know now too. “Do you think it has to do with Harvey?”

“Only one way to, ah, find out.”

“Which is?”

He looks at you like the answer is obvious. “Drive the Bat out of hiding, of course.”

There it is. Mr. Dale was right. You shouldn’t have told him. He was going to find out eventually but now was not the time. Shit. “J, you can’t-“

He cuts you off. “You don’t like the Bat, do you?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Then don’t you wanna know what his little secret is? It must be somethin’ real special if he’s, ah, abandoned Gotham. Doesn’t sound very heroic to me. Sounds rather dull.”

You know Joker’s dead set on getting back Batman for his own amusement, but what of you? What reason would you want to go find him for other than to expose him? He locked up Joker and left him here to rot. He killed five people plus Harvey Dent. He gets to hide away while people still root for him, safe from consequences. Everyone else suffers. Maybe Joker has a point. “I’m just a psychiatrist working Arkham asylum, Mr. J, trying to seek out the Batman is far above my pay grade,” you finally say, snorting, trying to get the idea out of your head. “B-Man can’t hide forever.”

“You’re right. Because we’ll drive him out.”

“We?”

“Well, you like to do good, don’t you? Little miss Mother Teresa, over here. You’ve already offered me friendship. So come on, help me, help Gotham, help us all!” He shows you his yellowing teeth. “Or, are you not as good as you think you are?” He reaches out with his hands suddenly, moving towards you. They only reach about halfway across the table, stopped by his cuffs, but you still jump. “What’s behind that mask, dear? Tell me what you really want. Let. It. Slip. Every dirty detail.”

You’re trembling now. Like a rabbit caught in a trap. “I… I’m not sure I’m following.”

“You’re not as good as you think you are, dolly. I can see it! I, ah, can sense the darkness looking beneath your white coat.”

What the hell was Joker going on about? That you were as rotten as he was? You weren’t. You had dark thoughts sometimes, yes, but you weren’t crazy. You weren’t crazy. You weren’t. You weren’t bad you- “I don’t know what you want from me,” you whisper.

As your voice gets quieter, Joker gets louder. “Is that it? You feel all fine and dandy in this shitty life of yours, locked up with me in this madhouse? The people out there don’t care about you, they don’t care about any of us. But you’re fine with it, huh? Like a little pet pooch nipping at their heels. You’re just being optimistic!”

“Joker-“

“Tell me,” he demands, “what you really want! I want to break Batman! I want to strip all of Gotham down to its rotting core! And you want to keep yourself beneath their boots? Dolly, please, you’re much much more than that.”

Heart thumping, you can’t take his words anymore. You stand up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table. “Fine! You wanna know what I want? I want to hurt every single person around here who has done me wrong! Every single person who ignored me or disregarded me, everyday I wish I could just rip them apart. I- I hate everyone. I hate this stupid fucking place because everyone treats me like shit and at first I was only trying so hard at this because I can harldy survive and they told me that if your sanity improved then I’d get a raise!” What is with you today? You clap your hands over your mouth, hands shaking. Fuck, Joker was going to be pissed. Oh, goddammit. “J… I- I didn’t…” You struggle to find the words, trying to keep looking him in the eyes. They give nothing away. He is silent. “Mr. J-“

Then, out of nowhere, he cackles. He throws his head back, neck exposed, and laughs into the air, the howls of his laughter echoing throughout the room. Immediately, you’re caught off guard. You can’t tell if he’s laughing because it amuses him or because he’s angry. Even when he calms down enough to look at you and smile, you still can’t tell, and you continue to shake. “Doll,” he begins through his laughs, “that’s exactly what I’m looking for.” He doubles over with howling laughter again and you’re not sure if you should be scared or confused. “This whole time you just wanted a raise! So you took on little old me?”

There’s a lump in your throat. You swallow it down. “I didn’t have much of a choice but yes… it was that or be fired. But I did really want to help you, Mr. J. Are- are you mad?”

“Mad? No! I am, ah, lovin’ this side of you. It’s so cruel.”

That certainly took a weight off your shoulders, and you finally took a long breath in. Fucking hell, Joker was confusing. Guilt still gnawed at you. “You’re right, I’m just as selfish as you say people are,” you mumble.

“Exactly,” he hisses. “But it takes guts to admit it, especially to someone who, ah, doesn’t exactly handle things very nicely.”

“I’m so sorry, J.”

“Don’t apologize. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Then I don’t know what to do now. You’re set on getting Batman out of hiding, I’m going fucking crazy right now, everything feels so weird.”

Joker seems to find the utmost pleasure in your unraveling. “Doll, what’s in the bag?”

The question takes you off guard. “What?”

“When you came in, you were all giddy, and I could hear something moving in your bag I haven’t heard before. What is it?”

Ever so perceptive. “Oh… uh,” you fumble through your bag, bringing out the three tins of paint. “Your paint. They… they let me bring it for you.”

Joker’s smile falters a bit, yet he doesn’t look upset, just surprised. “My paint… You really brought it for me?”

You nod. “Y-yes.”

His voice dips low. “Put it on me then.”

Now that takes you by surprise. More than anything else that’s happened to you today.

The Joker is so guarded off, yet he’s inviting you in, allowing you to not just touch his face but apply his makeup. It feels sacred. This is a part of him that makes him not just recognizable, but feared. And here you are, being asked to put it on him. It’s so wrong it feels… right? It scares you.

“Are you sure you-?”

“Put it on me, y/n.”

If this is a test, you’re not exactly sure how to pass. But his look is unnerving and so you stand up, pulling yourself onto the table between you, a lump in your throat. You feel frazzled as you move close to him, bending your legs to the side of you as you settle on your thighs. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. You can see every line of his scars, every wrinkle and crease on his face. “Okay,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You grab the white paint to the side of you, screwing off the lid and taking a large glob of the substance.

You loom close to him, your fingers wet with white paint, waiting for a sign that he’s okay with this. You don’t dare breathe, scared that any movement, any sound, will shut him down. But to your surprise, he doesn’t back away, he nods. Keep going. Your fingers finally land on his cheek, right beneath his eye, and you gasp at how warm his skin is. Joker shows nothing on his face to reveal how he feels except for the way his eye twitches slightly at your touch, his cheek twitching along with it. As you start to paint around his face, everywhere but his scars and lips, you wonder if his reaction stems from a disdain of being touched or from not having been touched so gently in so long.

“Mr. J,” you whisper, and you can feel your hands start to shake again but you quickly steady them. Once his face is fully white, you dig into the black paint. He notices this and closes his eyes, letting you rub the dark paint in circles until each of his eyes look like they’ve settled into two, painted voids. When he opens his eyes again, they’re still trained right on you. “What am I doing?” you ask to no one in particular.

Joker doesn’t answer your question. He doesn’t have one for you anyways other than the obvious. “The red now, doll.”

“Y-yes, of course.” Quickly, you grab the red paint and stick your fingers in, moving them towards Joker’s lips but stopping. Putting the makeup on his face had been intimate enough but… his scars? That was a whole different kind of territory. “J…”

“Do it,” he murmurs, and it’s so quick you still wait, your hand just in front of his mouth shaking. This had to be a test. Some kind of sick joke. “Doll, can you, ah, hear me? I said ‘do it’.”

You want to protest, but for what? He made it clear what he wants. So, you begin to smear the red across his lips, moving first to the scar on his right, your entire body shuddering as your fingers touch the sunken in skin where the carvings were made, the mangled flesh around it, every bump and curve. You don’t understand why anyone would ever find these scars ugly. To you, the way they healed, the way they are a part of him, there’s something hauntingly beautiful about it.

Godammit, J is beautiful.

As you continue to smear the red paint, he looms closer. “Do you wanna know,” he whispers, “how I got these scars?”

“I…” Of course you do. Everyday since you’ve met him, you go home and you can’t help but see his smile. See those scars. And you can’t help but wonder how they got there. You imagine a blade ripping across his mouth, drawing so much blood it drips down his chin. You’ve imagined him screaming in pain. You’ve imagined him uttering not a peep as the blade pierces his skin. So many possibilities. This was the barrier you’d been hoping to jump. “Yes,” you finally rasp.

“I can, ah, never get the story straight. It’s like a black hole, doll. A black hole in my mind. There’s so many ways I could’ve gottem, so many ways I think I gottem. What’s real? What’s not? Who the fuck cares?” Even with a furious growl in his voice, he laughs. “I can’t remember what it really was that did it. There was a horrible father. A wife who I tried so hard for. There was war, and violence, the mob, and so much pain. I’ve seen a lot. Maybe they’re all real memories, maybe they’re not, doesn’t matter! I hated the scars at first, I really did, but now? I embrace them because there is just so much to smile for. I’ve got so much left to do in this city. So much fun left to have. But there’s something I’ve been missing.”

You rub your thumb over his right scar, drawing in a shaky breath. “What is that?”

“I have all these plans, all these ideas and feelings over what I do and yet I’ve never thought anyone good enough to share them with. People, ah, will only be good to you for a while before runnin’ off with your secrets, it’s just human nature. I didn’t feel a kinship to anyone until you came along, Doctor l/n.” When he smiles, you feel the movement beneath your finger. “Look at you. So lonely. Letting everyone spit on you. Yet here you are, being so kind to me. I’m sure you imagined I could’ve killed you for keeping me along for a stupid paycheck, but you admitted it to me anyways. You are pulling back your own mask, right in front of me. You know you couldn’t fix me, right?”

You can feel tears welling in your eyes at his words, guilt gnawing at you. “I wanted to try at first. But now… I- I don’t want to fix you. I like what you are.”

“That,” he growls, “is exactly why I’m so drawn to you. I know, doll, that you crave something more than what you have now, this world kicking you down over and over and over again. I know the feeling. You’ve got nothing and everything to lose. Yet you manage to smile amidst the darkness. You smile in the face of pure chaos.”

“I don’t understand,” you mumble.

“I want what’s best for both of us, doll face. You were right. I do need someone by my side. As I was saying, what I’ve been missing this whole time, was you.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Me?”

He nods. “You stuck with me this long. Even for a paycheck, that’s somethin’ no one else would do. And yet the big Arkham bosses are out there now, laughing at the both of us. Ain’t that unfair?”

“Yes.”

“Doll, stick by my side, and we’ll let them all know just how corrupt they truly are.”

Your arms break out in goosebumps. Every word the Joker utters is dripping with venom, an edge to each syllable. You’ve tried to ignore him, the way he crawls into your rib cage, into your mind, finding your weaknesses, your dark desires and whims you push away. Yet here he is, getting you to reveal them, and trying to get you to go along with him. It’s working. “Let’s show them, then.”

You look down at your fingers, covered in red, and it almost looks like blood.

He grins. “That’s the spirit.” With a curl of his finger, he gestures for you to move closer. You do, and he cranes his neck towards your ear. “If you really wanna help me,” he whispers, his breath hot in your ear, “then tomorrow is the day you get me out of this place.” Every t is pronounced as sharp as a blade. “You’re smart, doll, I know you can think of something.”

Breaking Joker. Out of Arkham. A few weeks ago, you might have grabbed your remote and hit the red button but now? You think you might just take him up on that. You move back to look him in the eye. “You won’t help me think of something?”

“I’m sure you’ve got something in that, ah, pretty mind of yours.”

You huff. “J, I’m serious. This is Arkham. It’s constantly guarded and protected. And I’m just me.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“You’re you, sweets. No one’s gonna suspect you.”

Oh fuck. He’s right. No one gave a shit about you. You’d fly right under the radar. That part was easy. But everything else? This wasn’t exactly your forte. You didn’t know what to do. “I’ll try my best,” was all you could offer.

He reaches his hand out, and at first you think he’s trying to grab you, but instead he goes after one of the paint tins. The red paint. Agonizingly slow, he removes the cap, getting his fingers wet with paint. “Doll, you and I are gonna make something special. I always knew you had it in ya. C’mere.” You tilt your face towards him, and Joker smears the red across your lips, a mirror of his own striking smile. “Don’t forget to smile,” he says.

“Never.”

_______________

Later in the night, Joker stares at himself in the reflection of the small, grimy window of his cell door. His face is painted exactly the way he likes it, maybe just a bit different, but he could care less. This, this person he’s looking at, is the person he is, the person you have given back to him. He touches his face and he can still feel your phantom touch, the way you had run your finger over his face, his eyelids, his scars. You hadn’t backed off, or avoided them, you had touched them so softly. Soft. You were soft.

You made Joker feel soft and he hated it.

Yet, he couldn’t fathom getting rid of you. It would be easy, definitely. If things actually went well tomorrow and you managed to get him out of Arkham, he could easily kill you off. No one would look for you. And even if they did, helping him break out of Arkham would mark you a criminal, and Gotham would curse your name forever. But Joker doesn’t want to do that. Even the thought of your death makes him angry. He is used to wanting to hurt people, yet when he comes across you now, he feels… protective. He knows how the world hates him, yet somehow you showed him sympathy. No, even better, you were showing him loyalty by offering to help break him out. And if you really went and did it? God, he almost breaks into chills.

When he looks at you, he notices his body reacting strangely. His heart speeds up, his hands feel sweatier, his mind feels like it’s going to split right in half. This isn’t the kind of insanity Joker usually basks in, this is something worse. He doesn’t want to put a name to it. You were so good, and yet when you let your mask slip, Joker couldn’t help but feel pulled in even more. What lies beneath you is dark and spiteful, and Joker wants to see all of it.

You won’t let him down tomorrow, Joker is sure of it.

A voice on the intercom comes through the crack under the door, crackling through the speakers placed along the hall outside. “Shutting lights off. Everybody get to bed.”

Joker grunts, moving to plant himself down on his metal “bed”. He’s not going to sleep though, how could he? Chaos was coming, and you were bringing it straight towards him.

________________________________________________

When you get home, you stumble into the bathroom, quickly turning on the sink faucet and drenching your face in water. You let the ice cold water drip down your face, crying out as you try and get a grip on things. Your fingers are still covered in Joker’s face paint, the water hardly washing any of it off. It’s like he’s on you forever.

Why, for fucks sake, do you almost want it to never wash off?

You look at yourself in the mirror now, the makeup that Joker spread smeared down your chin. This is you now. Mr. Dale was right, you have changed. But fuck it, it was for the best. This change, this thing radiating beneath your skin, it’s something dangerous yet powerful. It moves you. You’re not crazy, you’re insane.

You can’t tell what this feeling is towards Joker. It almost feels like… love.

Love for the Joker.

The Joker. The Joker. The Joker-

He was right. He was always right. People were going to walk over you all your life. You were tired of it. Nothing was going to change if you didn’t change it first. You couldn’t stand around and watch these people, with their pockets fat and their reputations swell, walk around with such pride when you knew they were all phonies. This city, your city, you’re going to unveil it. No longer will it crush you. You’re going to crush it.

You were going to be Joker’s partner in crime. And you loved it.

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