#i liked it but i would have written it better

[bunny-jpeg]

pretty little panties - simon r. simon wanted something that reminded him of home. he was tucked away in latvia near the russian border. it was a pretty simple mission, but he missed his honey, his dove, his everything.

you were all the way back home, he bet at that very moment with the time differences and everything, you were probably tucked under the covers in your shared bed. under that fleece black and white blanket you loved so much. your face pressed against the stuffed animal he bought for you before his deployment - a little reminder of him. he bet you were nice and cozy. and that gave some ease of mind. after all, you were what was he was fighting for. making sure good in the world stayed good. it let him rest easier between missions.

but it also gave him a raging erection.

simon didn't ask for many things. he was a hard person to get gifts for as a result. but when he got a rather small, thin care package from you. he was delighted to find a hand written letter that smelled like you and inside the folds of paper were a pair of pretty pink panties.

at the end of the letter it read, "take good care of them, i want them back when you come home." and simon could have kissed you on the lips at that very moment! he snuck them into his pocket for later.

it wouldn't be for a few days till he was able to really feel the soft fabric between his fingers. your panties spent most of the time in his tactical vest. the knowledge that it was there felt good, like when he had your picture in his helmet. felt like a little piece of you was with him. he couldn't wait to get his hands on you, feel you in his grasp once more. you were such a pretty sight to see and feel, and while the panties were pretty and smelled like you. they weren't you.

alone in his room for the night. he tried to get comfortable in bed with his green shirt and casual pants on. he leaned back into the few pillows he had and started to palm his cock through his pants. he got the panties out of the pocket. they had been his little good luck charm since they arrived. he brought them to his nose and deeply inhaled before he got his cock out of his pants.

he spat in his rough palm and started to stroke his cock. it really wasn't the same as your more delicate hands. hands not cracked from war. they were soft with next to no callouses. they felt like heaven on his cock, your mouth was even better. it didn't take long before he wrapped the panties around his hard cock and continued to stroke himself.

he imagined you where he was. at the base he was at. tucked away for a little visit. you wouldn't fit in at all on the base, obviously standing out as a civilian. but simon would make sure you got anything you needed. he protected his little dove. the love of his life, after all you gave him such a little present. pre-cum stained the pink cotton, but he kept stroking himself. the pleasure was built up in his body. he'd make sure that you'd both fit in the tiny bed he currently slept in. even that meant him having to sleep on the floor. your comfort was the most important.

his dark eyes closed and he continued to stroke himself quickly. thoughts of you plagued his mind. he tensed up a little and more pre-cum spilled out. he thought about all the things he'd do to you. how your pretty body would move up and down his cock when you rode him.

he'd wrapped his strong arms around you and bounce you on his cock. he'd finish load after load in you. give you messy kisses. he wanted to feel his angel again, you were just perfect for him. he loved you so very much. he wanted those hot kisses and those gentle cuddles. how you'd trace patterns across his skin and snuggle in his arms.

he loved you.

so it didn't take much longer for him to cum all over the panties. the cotton was ruined with his thick cum. he knew there was no way to save them. but yet he kept rubbing his oversensitive cock with them. he couldn't help himself. it just felt so good.

he knew the next time he got the chance to message you. he'd apologize for ruining the pretty pair you gave him, and ask very nicely for another one. that he'll definitely treat nicer. <3

inspired by recent events

[theeladymystic]

So my problem with the Bible (that book evangelicals use to quote God) is this; have you ever played the game telephone? I played it in elementary school. My entire class of 20-ish so kids we’d all sit in a circle and the teacher would whisper a sentence into the first kids ear. They only said it once and they whispered as quietly as possible. Then that kid had to whisper in the next kids ear. Could only say what they thought they heard, only whisper as quietly as they could only once. So forth and so forth around the circle. Even if there wasn’t a chaos kid in the middle just saying whatever the fuck they wanted to mess with the results, the odds of the teachers original sentence making it throughout the class never happened.

Now replace the single sentence with an entire book.

Replace the 20-ish kids with over 30-ish GENERATIONS of humanity.

While I do recognise that written history is better preserved than oral history, it went through SEVERAL language translations. Which just put a sentence through any translation app, then that result through another language, then that result into another different language… go through 20 languages and see what you end up with. And that’s even before King James, we know for FACT that he edited and rewrote the Bible just because he didn’t like what it originally said! (He was that chaos kid who changed the sentence because he wanted to.)

So no. I do not put any stock into the book, the King James Bible, that evangelicals use to base their “facts” upon. It’s not God’s words at this point. It’s men’s. Yes men. Because only the male’s of our species have had their hands in working with the books.

I choose to believe God is good and Jesus is Love. But any human who believes the Bible at this point is the “words of God” and make human Laws according to their beliefs that go against God being Good and they create Hate in Jesus’ name instead of spreading Love, then their Pride is at Sin levels and I hope there actually is a Hell for them to burn in.

I’ve also noticed that the evangelicals who preach God’s wrath instead of love and spread hate in Jesus’ name instead of love, they’re notorious for cherry picking the parts that align to what they want to believe and ignore the rest. -.-

evangelicals being like "god made men to do This and be like This and women to do That and be like That that's just how it is" and it's just a picture of a white man and woman following traditional gender norms makes me so insane like you boring fascist fucks. god made 2 million species of beetles. god made whales, ducks, humans, and 1500 other species capable of same sex behavior. god made fish and amphibians that change sexes. god made more than 30 different intersex variations in human beings. god, in his infinite curiosity. wake up!!! fuck!!

[heartsbyani]

𐔌 현진 .ᐟ ꒱ ── "the art of loving you."ㅤ❀

HWANG HYUNJIN! ⓘ when your artistic boyfriend wants to use you as his muse for the first time . . (,,>ヮ<,,)!

⌣ ﹒ ✿ ﹕ 𝑏f!hyunjin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , pure love ! 33OOwc. ⎯⎯ Yᗩᑎi's ᒪIᗷᖇᗩᖇY ⟢ cw. nicknames , kisses , intimacy , jokes. ┆ 🐇 ⋮ an original drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

𝑦𝑎𝑛𝑖'𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ huhuhuhu i wrote this in the span of an hour. minus the formatting. i love love so much :( i love hyunjin so much :( i cried writing this sorry. mostly written for my hun, ishi. i know life isn't the best right now, but here's a lil' something that might help you be a bit more at ease! apologies if it isn't very effective though. love you! happy reading <3

the apartment smelled like faint lavender and the lingering sweetness of the vanilla candle she had burned earlier. a warm, golden haze from the late afternoon sun spilled in through the sheer curtains, pooling on the wooden floors, stretching shadows long and lazy.

the world outside hummed softly—distant car horns, the occasional laughter of neighbors, the rhythmic tapping of a tree branch against the window. inside, everything was still.

cozy.

wrapped in the kind of silence that only felt peaceful, never empty.

hyunjin had been staring at her for a while now, perched on the couch with his sketchbook in his lap, his pencil resting against his bottom lip. he wasn’t even pretending to be subtle. every few seconds, his fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for her but thought better of it.

she was curled up at the other end of the couch, distracted by the book in her hands, knees tucked to her chest, one sock slipping off her foot.

he liked her like this.

relaxed.

unfiltered.

beautiful in the way that people are when they don’t know they’re being watched.

he swallowed. his heart was already tumbling over itself.

he had been thinking about it for days now. weeks, even. the idea had planted itself in his mind like a stubborn seed, refusing to be ignored. i want to capture her.

it wasn’t just a want. it was an ache. a pull.

he had sketched her before—messy, thoughtless doodles in the corners of napkins and on the backs of receipts, quick little impressions of the way her hair fell, the way her lips curved when she was deep in thought. but this—this would be different.

this time, he wanted her to be his muse.

he exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly. she finally looked up, blinking at him, and he panicked—like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

"what?" she asked, voice soft with amusement.

hyunjin hesitated. his fingers drummed against his sketchbook. "nothing," he mumbled, glancing away.

a pause.

then she nudged his thigh with her foot. "liar."

he huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. she always saw right through him.

for a moment, he debated brushing it off, pretending like it wasn’t clawing at his insides. but he knew he couldn’t. not with her.

so he bit his lip, gathering his thoughts, before finally exhaling.

"i want to paint you."

the words hung between them, stretching the air thin.

she blinked again, tilting her head. "what?"

hyunjin sat up straighter, shifting so he was fully facing her now, sketchbook balanced on his knee. his fingers curled over the edges of it, gripping it like a lifeline.

"i—i've been thinking about it for a while," he confessed, voice quieter now, like he was scared of startling the moment. "i want to paint you. properly. like… really take my time with it."

she didn’t respond immediately, just studying him. he could see the gears turning in her head.

"you want to paint.. me?" she repeated, as if testing the weight of it on her tongue.

hyunjin nodded. "yeah."

he couldn’t quite read her expression. he wasn’t sure if she liked the idea or not, and the uncertainty sent something anxious skittering through his chest.

"you don’t have to say yes," he added quickly, fingers tightening around his sketchbook.

"i just—i think you’re beautiful. and i want to capture you. not just your face but… you. the way you exist. the way you are."

there it was again—that ache. that pull.

she was silent for another beat, then a small smile played at her lips. "that’s very romantic of you."

hyunjin exhaled a breathy laugh, relieved by her teasing tone. "i am very romantic, actually."

she hummed, pretending to consider. "i don’t know… what if you make me look ugly?"

he scoffed immediately, reaching out to flick her knee. "impossible."

she giggled, pulling her legs away.

hyunjin watched her for a second, then, quieter, more vulnerable—"you’ll do it?"

she held his gaze. and then she nodded.

"yeah," she murmured. "of course. i'll be yours in whatever way you need."

hyunjin's entire body melted. his shoulders dropped, his fingers loosened, his breath left him in one long, relieved exhale. a slow, glowing grin stretched across his face, dimples appearing, eyes crescented with something soft and adoring.

"you really will?"

she rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. "yes, baby."

baby.

his heart stumbled over itself again.

before she could react, he was already leaning forward, hands finding her waist, pulling her into him. she laughed as she tumbled into his lap, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

"hyunjin—"

"thank you," he murmured, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder, voice muffled against her skin. "you have no idea how much i wanted this."

she softened, fingers threading through his hair. "i think i do."

hyunjin smiled against her skin. his hands rested against the small of her back, warm and secure, holding her like something precious. because she was.

and now, he could finally capture her the way he saw her.

the apartment smelled different today.

not drastically—just subtly altered, the way a shift in seasons feels. the usual traces of lavender and vanilla were still there, clinging to the air like a familiar embrace, but now they mingled with the crisp scent of stretched canvas, the faint musk of oil pastels, and the distinct earthiness of paint—thick, rich, waiting.

hyunjin had been preparing for this all morning.

sunlight pooled through the wide windows, gilding the hardwood floors in a lazy sprawl. the apartment was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of fabric as he adjusted the sheets draped over their couch to protect it from accidental paint smudges.

his art corner—his sanctuary—was usually a little more chaotic, but today, everything was placed with care. he wanted the space to feel right. to feel like it could hold something sacred.

at the center of it all, his easel stood tall, an untouched canvas waiting, patient and expectant.

his brushes were lined up beside it, freshly cleaned, their wooden handles smooth beneath his fingertips as he traced over them absentmindedly. next to them sat his palette, dappled with early mixes of color—soft beiges, warm caramels, a whisper of rose.

he had mixed those shades by memory alone. he knew the way she looked under sunlight, the way her skin carried warmth like a secret.

now, all he needed was her.

the guy straightened, glancing toward the hallway just as she appeared, wrapped in one of his oversized sweaters.

his breath caught.

she always stole his clothes, and he always let her. he liked the way she looked in them—how the sleeves hung past her wrists, how the fabric swallowed her just enough to make her look small, but never lost. she looked comfortable. at home. and something about that made his chest ache in the best way.

"you done?" she asked, voice still laced with sleep, soft and warm at the edges.

he smiled.

"almost," he murmured, crossing the room. his hands found her waist instinctively, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his sweater, tracing over her skin. "but first, let’s make you comfortable."

she raised an eyebrow, "is that an excuse to undress me?"

"partly."

she rolled her eyes, but there was no real protest as he gently peeled the sweater off her, leaving her in just a simple tank top and shorts.

hyunjin hummed in approval, fingers trailing over her shoulders, brushing against her collarbone.

"perfect," he murmured.

she let out a soft laugh, tilting her head. "you haven’t even posed me yet."

he smiled, but he didn’t answer right away. instead, he took her hand, guiding her toward the chair he had placed near the window—where the sunlight would catch her just right.

"i want you to be natural," he said softly. "just be comfortable. let me see you the way i always do."

she settled into the chair, shifting slightly, and he stepped back, studying her.

he had painted people before. strangers, muses, faces he barely knew but found interesting enough to capture. but this—this was different. this wasn’t just painting a face. this was capturing a feeling. a presence.

his fingers twitched, itching to start.

she watched him, tilting her head slightly. "how do you want me?"

he swallowed. his gaze softened.

"just like that," he murmured.

she held still, trusting him, and something in his chest tightened.

slowly, he stepped closer, fingertips grazing her cheek, tilting her head just slightly. his thumb traced the curve of her jaw, lingering at the hinge where her pulse thrummed beneath his touch. then, his hands drifted down, adjusting the way her shoulders rested, the way her hands settled in her lap. every movement was careful, reverent.

"there," he breathed. "stay like that."

she held his gaze, steady and sure. "okay."

he let out a slow exhale, stepping back. his hands found his brushes, and then, finally, he began.

the first strokes were light, tentative. the foundation of something much bigger. his focus narrowed, the world outside of this moment falling away. it was just her and the canvas, and the quiet, steady rhythm of his breathing.

he traced the shape of her first—soft lines, delicate curves. her shoulders, the slope of her neck, the gentle angles of her collarbones. then, slowly, he worked his way up—capturing the arch of her brow, the fullness of her lips, the way the light kissed her skin.

hyunjin didn’t just see her—he felt her.

every touch of paint was a memory, every brushstroke an echo of the way he adored her. the way she looked when she laughed, when she was lost in thought, when she reached for him in the middle of the night, half-asleep but seeking.

she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

and now, she would live on his canvas, exactly as he saw her.

...minutes melted into hours.

the apartment existed in a bubble of stillness, broken only by the soft drag of bristles against canvas and the occasional shift of fabric as she adjusted her posture. hyunjin barely noticed time slipping through his fingers; he was lost in the rhythm of creation, in the steady pull of something deep and unspoken.

she remained patient, quiet but present, watching him work.

at some point, she broke the silence. "you’re really taking your time with this."

he didn’t look away from the canvas, but a small smile played at his lips. "of course. you deserve to be painted slowly."

her lips parted slightly, caught off guard. then she exhaled a soft laugh. "that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said."

his gaze flickered to her then, his brush hovering midair. "i say romantic things all the time."

she hummed. "you do. but that one made my heart flutter a little."

hyunjin grinned. "good."

he went back to painting, his eyes flickering between her and the canvas. the room had dimmed slightly, the sun lower now, casting long golden streaks across the floor. the light touched her cheekbones in a way that made him pause, his fingers tightening around the brush.

"hold still," he murmured, stepping closer.

she obeyed, but her brows lifted slightly in curiosity.

hyunjin reached out, fingertips barely brushing the corner of her mouth. he tilted her chin, his touch featherlight, tracing the outline of her lips with nothing but air between them.

"you have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" he murmured.

her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. "w—"

"you don’t," he cut in gently, thumb ghosting over her bottom lip before he stepped back. "you’re always so effortlessly perfect, and you don’t even realize it. that’s why i want to paint you. so you can see yourself the way i do."

a moment passed.

she swallowed, something unreadable flickering across her face. then, softly, "i don’t think anyone has ever looked at me the way you do."

hyunjin’s throat tightened.

he knew he was staring too much, that his emotions were slipping into the air between them, heavy and unguarded. but he couldn’t help it.

"i love you," he said simply.

her lips parted again, but this time, she didn’t try to deflect. she just let the words settle, her eyes softening as a slow, glowing smile spread across her face.

"i love you too."

he inhaled deeply, letting it fill his chest. then, shaking off the moment before he could get too distracted, he gestured toward the canvas. "now stay still, my muse. i have work to do."

she giggled, settling back into position.

hyunjin returned to his easel, but his mind was still full of her.

brushstroke after brushstroke, he captured the softness of her gaze, the delicate slope of her nose, the warmth in her expression. he mixed colors carefully, making sure her skin glowed the way it did under sunlight, the way it did when she laughed, the way it did when she looked at him like he was the only thing in the world.

hours passed like this—soft conversations, lazy teasing, moments of silence that weren’t empty but full of something warm and steady.

eventually, she sighed, stretching her arms above her head. "hyun, my legs are falling asleep."

he blinked, coming back to reality. "oh—wait, don’t move yet."

she groaned playfully. "i’m dying."

"you’re not dying."

"i might be."

hyunjin laughed, but he set his brush down, stepping closer again. he crouched in front of her, hands gliding up her legs, massaging gently. "here," he murmured. "better?"

she melted instantly. "mmm. yeah."

his thumbs pressed into her calves, slow and firm. "you were so patient for me," he murmured. "thank you."

she peeked down at him, her fingers threading through his hair. "always."

he exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes briefly at her touch. then, without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her knee. just because he wanted to.

she stilled slightly, then her fingers curled against his scalp.

"hyunjin."

he looked up, his hands still resting on her legs. "yeah?"

her gaze softened. "can i see it?"

his heart did something funny in his chest.

he stood, suddenly nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. "it’s not finished yet."

she reached for his hand, squeezing gently. "that’s okay."

he hesitated, then nodded. slowly, he stepped aside, letting her stand and move toward the easel.

her eyes widened slightly.

for a long moment, she said nothing, just taking it in.

he chewed on his lip, waiting. "do you like it?"

she turned to him then, and he almost staggered back at the look on her face.

she wasn’t just smiling. she wasn’t just admiring.

she was looking at him the way he looked at her.

like he was something to be treasured.

like she had never felt so loved in her entire life.

"hyunjin," she breathed. "it’s… it’s beautiful."

hyunjin let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

then, before he could say anything, she was in his arms, burying herself into his chest, wrapping around him like she belonged there.

he closed his eyes, arms curling around her, holding her impossibly close.

"it’s you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. "exactly the way i see you."

and that was all he had ever wanted to do.

...she didn’t let go.

even when the painting stood in front of her like a quiet confession, even when her eyes were still drinking in every delicate brushstroke, she couldn’t bring herself to step away from her lover.

instead, she pressed her face into his chest, arms tightening around his waist.

hyunjin chuckled, his palm smoothing over her back. "baby," he murmured. "aren’t you gonna keep looking?"

"i’ve seen enough," she mumbled, voice muffled against his sweater. "it’s too much."

his brows furrowed slightly. "too much?"

she nodded, inhaling deeply—his scent, the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "hyunjin, my boyfriend, the love of my life, the most dramatic artist to ever exist—"

he snorted. "oh, here we go."

"—has painted me with so much love that i might actually pass out. and it's-"

hyunjin grinned, resting his chin atop her head. "please don’t pass out. i’d have to catch you, and we’d both go down, and then you’d blame me."

"i would. because it would be your fault."

he hummed. "i love how you admit it so easily."

she lifted her head slightly, just enough to peek up at him. her eyes were still shimmering, lined with something fragile. but her lips curled, soft and fond.

"hyunjin, you love me so much," she whispered.

his breath hitched.

he wasn’t sure what it was—maybe the way she said it, like a realization, like an overwhelming truth she was only just coming to terms with. maybe the way she was looking at him, wide-eyed and almost awed, as if she couldn’t believe how much love she was receiving.

but something inside him ached.

he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb over her skin. "of course i do," he murmured. "you didn’t know?"

she swallowed, her lashes fluttering. "i did— but i didn't think it'd be this.. much!"

"then why do you look like you’re about to cry?"

her lip wobbled. "because—because i love you so much too, and you just—you love me so much, hyunjin, it’s ridiculous."

his heart squeezed.

and then she was rambling, as if the words couldn’t come out fast enough, as if they’d been sitting in her chest, waiting for this moment.

"my boyfriend loves me so much that he paints me like i’m the most precious thing in the world," she whispered, blinking rapidly. "my boyfriend loves me so much that he stares at me like i’m art before i even become art."

the guy bit his lip, trying to fight the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"my boyfriend loves me so much that he took hours to mix the perfect shade for my skin, because he wanted me to glow exactly the way i do in his eyes. my boyfriend loves me so much that he barely blinked the entire time, like he was memorizing me all over again."

she sniffled, voice wobbling. "my boyfriend loves me so much—"

hyunjin burst into laughter.

she gasped, offended. "hyunjin!"

"i’m sorry," he wheezed, pressing his forehead against hers, shoulders shaking. "you’re just—" another laugh bubbled out of him. "you’re so cute, baby. you’re literally giving a whole monologue right now."

her cheeks burned. "it’s not my fault! i’m emotional!"

he softened instantly, his laughter fading into something gentler. "i know," he murmured, tilting her chin up. "i love that you are."

she huffed, her lips pursing, but her eyes were still damp. "well, you did this. this is your fault."

"yeah?" his thumb brushed over her cheek, catching the faintest trace of moisture. "then let me take responsibility."

and before she could say anything else, he kissed her.

soft. slow. full of everything he couldn’t put into words.

her hands curled into his sweater, and he felt her melt, felt her sigh against his lips, felt the warmth of her love spilling into the space between them.

when he pulled back, she blinked up at him, dazed.

"you’re not real," she whispered.

he laughed again, quieter this time. "neither are you."

she exhaled, leaning in to press her face into the crook of his neck.

for a long moment, they just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the painting forgotten in the background.

then, in a whisper—"thank you."

he smiled, his arms tightening around her. "you don’t have to thank me."

"yes, i do." she pulled back just enough to look at him. "for painting me. for looking at me like that. for loving me like this."

his heart swelled.

he kissed her forehead. "always."

she sighed dreamily, resting against his chest again.

and just like that, time slowed.

there was no rush, no urgency—just them, bathed in the golden remnants of daylight, wrapped in love, in laughter, in warmth.

just them, in their little world, where hyunjin’s brush had captured her beauty, but his love had captured her heart.

⤿ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝘵𝑒𝑟𝘵𝑎𝑔. @its-stayville-forever @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @shotngun @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan @ashtxrie @minlixyaoi @shuuporanglinos — fill out this form to be added !! ✶

comments, likes, asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! req. are officially closed till the month of june. thank you for reading, hope you liked it <3

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 3

summary: when nothing comes of the frantic call for help you'd made just before joel had attempted to take your life, you realize that he had been telling you the truth—nobody cares about you, and nobody is coming for you. the fear of being forgotten becomes so overwhelming, you decide to go against your better judgement in a last-ditch effort to make sure that somebody knows you're still here. what you hadn't anticipated, is that you'd be putting more than just your own life in danger by doing so.

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy issues, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, introduction of female original character, reader's skintone shows bruises, reader has at least shoulder-length hair, reader's hair texture can be put into ponytails, reader has pubic hair, groping, fingering, kissing, fingersucking (both reader and joel), mild blood kink, domination and control that is essentially abuse, development of stockholm syndrome, pet names (baby, darlin', babydoll, sweetheart), story inspired by "preacher's daughter" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 12.9k

a/n: heyyy... how y'all doin... it's been a while. i am very excited to share the next part of this story, written by some miraculous feat of perseverance. if you're still here, thank you for sticking around. i love joel and babydoll so so much and they have never left my heart or my mind, even when i was taking a break from them. i thought that putting a hard stop to my hobbies while i was having a difficult time at work was a good coping mechanism, but i realized last month that i can't let them take my creativity away from me no matter how hard they try. thank you @chippedowlmug and @polaroidpascal for always yapping with me and keeping their story alive even when i didn't have it in me to write it all down. there is much more of them still to come, thank you for being here <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 4

You can’t sleep.

Each time the air conditioning kicks on, or the pipes let out a rattling groan, or the mattress springs creak underneath Joel’s weight, your eyes snap open again. Each time you hope to awaken to the sight of blue and red lights streaming in through the crooked blinds, and each time you’re disappointed. Your heart rate hasn’t been able to settle into any kind of steady rhythm all night, the muscle beating erratically every time you hear so much as a cricket chirp or a gust of wind outside. You could’ve sworn at one point you had heard distant footsteps crunching through the gravel parking lot, and you’d held your breath as you imagined they belonged to a police officer coming to your rescue, sent by the woman who had picked up your call for help. Any minute now the footsteps would reach your room, and you’d hear fists pounding on the door as they demanded entry. 

That minute had turned into five, then ten, and then fifteen, before the sound had repeated itself, and you’d realized it was just some nocturnal critter rustling around in the trash can outside the door. 

It’s been hours now since you’d made your futile little escape attempt, since you’d uttered all of about four words to the woman on the other end of the line before Joel had pounced on you like an animal, ripped the phone out of your hand, and dragged you back into his lair. 

…Someone had picked up, hadn’t they? Your memory is failing you now. Maybe the line was dead, maybe you hadn’t inserted enough coins for the call to go through, maybe you had only wanted there to be somebody out there who cared, and you had just hallucinated the woman’s tinny voice in your terrified state.

What you can be sure you hadn’t hallucinated, however, is the contents of the box you wish you had never pulled out from underneath the bench seat. You can’t escape the graphic memories of the polaroids that project themselves onto the backs of your eyelids each time they dare to close, jolting you back into reality the second your consciousness begins to slip away. You can’t help but think about how Joel had made you lay perfectly still for him while he forced himself inside of you, and you taste bile in the back of your throat as you wonder if he had ever really violated any of the other girls that way, or if it was just some sick fantasy.

You’re almost certain of what the answer is, but you try to swallow it down along with the sourness in your mouth.

You think about how scared you were, how scared you are, and how scared they must have been in their final moments, knowing there was nothing they could do anymore except submit themselves to his violence and hope he would at least make it quick. Eighteen or so years’ worth of dreams and desires and ambitions dashed in a single night, snuffed out in an instant as he reduced their bodies to nothing more than something limp and pliant for him to play with. You think about Ruby, and try to blink away the sudden vision of sunken glassy eyes and blonde ringlets covered in dirt and blood, skin pale and body decaying in a forgotten patch of land off the side of the road somewhere. You hope if he had ever spared even one of them from his grotesque defilement, that it was her.

You’re crying, you realize, when you feel a hot tear pooling in the shell of your ear, and you try to suppress your shuddering sobs as the guilt begins to feel all-consuming. How come you’re still alive to feel Joel’s hot breath raise the hairs on the back of your neck, and yet there’s a fucking shoebox full of dozens and dozens of girls who’d been brutalized and violated and discarded like trash? What makes you so fucking special? Being lost and naive and stupid enough to play into his little game without knowing what the cost would be if you’d tried to back out, to say that you’d changed your mind because he was too rough and controlling and it wasn’t fun anymore, like the rest of them probably had? It isn’t fair that you get to escape their fates just because you were the only one fucked up enough to enjoy the game, at least while it had lasted.

You’re going to wake him up with all your sniffling and shivering if you don’t get yourself under control somehow. You need to breathe. You need to get some air. Feel the breeze on your face and look up at the stars and calm yourself down enough to try and get at least a couple hours of sleep tonight. Lord knows you’ll probably need them tomorrow. 

Although Joel had fallen asleep with his arm locked tight around your chest, it rests across his own now, rising and falling slowly with his breathing. He seems to be in true, deep sleep, having laid perfectly still for the past couple of hours save for the bear-like snorts he lets out every once in a while. Must have really worn himself out last night, you think to yourself, the tone of the voice in your head dripping with venom.

You wait another couple of minutes for the AC unit to turn back on, and use its obnoxious metallic rattling to cover the sound of you peeling back the thin sheet and musty comforter. You do so carefully, in as slow and as delicate movements you can manage in your current state, practically placing your feet on the carpet one toe at a time before pushing yourself up to a standing position. Joel makes some kind of grumbling cough just as you finish straightening out your spine, and it startles a gasp from you. You cover your mouth quickly and turn back to face him with wide eyes, afraid that you’ll find his own darkened ones staring back at you. 

They’re still closed, to your immense relief, but his mouth is hanging open now, his sharp canines catching the moonlight in a way that sends a shiver down your back. You still have another minute or so of cover from the air conditioning before the room is cloaked in sinister silence once again, so you use your last remaining seconds to sweep the floor with your bare feet, blindly feeling around in the dark for your shoes. Come on, where the fuck are they? you wonder, sure that you would’ve kicked them over by now, if they were still in the spot Joel had put them after he had stripped off your clothes and pulled you into the shower with him. 

Fuck.

He locked them in the fucking truck, along with the rest of your clothes, along with all of his clothes and both of your bags full of your modest belongings. You’d been tucked into bed already, sniffling quietly into the pillow as he’d made one last trip outside in nothing but his briefs just to ensure that you wouldn’t be motivated to try something again during the night. You’d hardly be able to make it anywhere without a stitch of clothing on your back except for his threadbare t-shirt, after all, the length of it just barely enough to cover the tufts of curls that poke out from the apex of your thighs. 

“Just a lil’ insurance policy. You understand, sweetheart,” Joel had whispered, slipping the key to the truck underneath his pillow before slithering into bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you and constricting you like a snake. 

Fuck it. It’s been too long. You tiptoe across the few feet of space between your side of the bed and the door to the room, thankful that the AC rattles out one last dissonant groan loud enough to cover the squeak of the hinges and the click of the lock. 

Free from the confines of that cage-like room at last, you shakily exhale the breath you’d been holding, and the desert air is cold enough for you to see the pale cloud of it against the onyx-colored sky. With your back pressed up against the door and your hands splayed out against the wood, you look up at the endless expanse of stars above the treeline and let out a shuddering sob, the sight both comforting and overwhelming all at once. 

You feel small. You feel lost. You feel trapped. Scared. Sick. Confused. Everything. Nothing.

There’s a whole world out there, right in front of you, all around you, and it was waiting to welcome you with open arms, if you hadn’t fallen into the wrong ones first. You feel both grateful and damned to be alive, relieved that you’ve been fortunate enough to live to see another day, but knowing that each one that follows will be spent with him. In his captivity, doing his bidding, spending the rest of your life trying to decide which side of his polaroid camera is the worse one to be on. 

The polaroids. You just can’t fucking get them out of your head. The only physical evidence of what happened to any of those girls, now sitting at the bottom of a gas station trash can, likely covered up with empty soda cans and fast food wrappers and grease-stained napkins by now. That black plastic bag was probably tossed into a dumpster sometime last night, ready to be loaded onto a trash truck and taken to a landfill, never to be seen again. Discarded. Forgotten.

If anything, you wish you could at least provide some kind of closure to their parents, to Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter, who only gave up the search for their daughter because they had let the police convince them that their bright, beautiful, and promising child had just decided to run away that summer. You wish you could somehow make it back across the country, walk up to their home and knock on the door and be able to tell them “I know what happened to her. A man took her—a monster. He killed her. I’m sorry.”

But then, what condolence would that provide them, without a body to lay to rest? You wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for her. Joel probably doesn’t even fucking remember where she is anymore, where any of them are. He probably just picks the most unassuming, low-trafficked area he can find nearby to dump their bodies after he’s done with them, chosen as carelessly as he would the next cigarette out of his pack—a thatch of tall grass off the side of a back road, a pile of dry-rotted debris where a barn once stood, an algae-covered pond behind a long-abandoned farmhouse. Bleak, filthy, forgettable places, where nobody would ever be able to find them.

Another sob wracks your body, and you muffle the sound with your hand as you slide down the door, your knees giving out from underneath you as you collapse onto the sidewalk. 

Nobody knows where you are, or what happened to you, and nobody fucking cares. Not the police, not your own mother. You’ll be forgotten just like the rest of them if you haven’t been already, whether you make it out of this alive or not. 

You can’t bear the thought. You thought you could, when you had first left home and started following Ruby’s trail all that time ago. It had seemed inspiring at the time, the idea of leaving that suffocating little town in search of somewhere else to plant your roots and let yourself bloom. But now… you have to make sure that someone knows the truth. Whether they care about you enough to come to your rescue or not, you need at least one person out there to know that you didn’t just vanish into the wind. That you’re still alive. That you’re still out there. That you haven’t given up yet.

You close your eyes for a moment, taking a few steadying breaths as the cool night breeze dries your tears and the thin veil of sweat that your anxious spiral had produced. When you open them again, your gaze lands on the payphone across the parking lot, and you heave a despondent sigh as you study a moth fluttering dizzily around the bulb that illuminates the little booth. The phone is even more useless to you now than it was the first time, without access to the handful of quarters that are still locked inside Joel’s truck. With that option eliminated, you push yourself up to your feet, and feel the tiny muscles in your toes spasm with the desire to run. You try to rewind your memory several hours back, searching for even a glimpse of something that might tell you where the fuck you are, which direction to head in—had you passed any street signs, local schools, city halls, anything? You must’ve been too terrified to pay any attention to your surroundings as Joel drove from the gas station to the motel, devoting all of your focus to planning your failed getaway. Joel was probably counting on that, and had intentionally picked this drab little motel in the middle of fucking nowhere in order to imprison you here.

You finally tear your eyes away from that hopeless, trapped little moth, instead turning your head toward the motel office all the way down at the end of the row of rooms. There’s a dim light on inside, but no other sign of a person working there. Considering the isolated nature of this bygone stretch of highway, the motel might not even get enough business to justify paying a person to man the front desk all night. You chew on your lip, debating if it’s even worth a shot just to take a look around and see if you can find anything of use in there.

Your feet are stepping one in front of the other before you can stop them, leading you toward the door with “OFFICE” painted on the glass window in bold red letters. Goosebumps rise on the exposed skin of your legs as you walk, and you almost hope that there isn’t anybody in there after all, just to spare yourself the embarrassment of having to talk to some innocent bystander while you grasp desperately at the bottom hem of your shirt and your remaining shreds of dignity. You hate how well Joel’s little “insurance policy” is working exactly the way he wanted it to.

The doorknob is cold against your fingertips, and your breath hitches in surprise when you’re able to turn it with no resistance. You slip inside the office and close the door behind you quietly, taking a beat to survey the wood-paneled room—there’s a corkboard of room keys with only one empty hook, a clock on the wall that makes you jump with each startling tick, and a coffee maker in the corner covered in a thin layer of dust, illuminated by the slices of white moonlight coming in through the blinds. It’s all too still, too untouched, everything about the room only emphasizing how absolutely alone you are here. And yet, you can’t shake the eerie feeling of a presence, of eyes on you, watching you and waiting to jump out from the shadows and drag you back to your keeper. 

Just find what you came in here to look for and get the fuck out, you scold yourself, stepping behind the front desk and opening each drawer one by one as you search for the handful of items on your mental checklist—a pen, paper, an envelope, and a stamp. 

It’s not your brightest idea, attempting to send a letter back home to your mother. But it’s better than doing nothing, just disappearing into the forest and letting the monster that lurks there kick dirt over your trail of breadcrumbs. Even if just one remains, it will be enough to prove that you were ever there at all.

The pen and paper were easiest to find, sitting right on top of the desk in plain sight. You’d torn off a sheet of the motel’s personalized notepad, the place’s name and address printed neatly across the top. If your mother does find it in her heart to come looking for you, at least she’ll know where to start.

The envelope and stamp are proving more difficult to locate, and each deafening tick of the clock above your head taunts you with its reminder of how much time you’ve been in here, out of bed, away from Joel. Your searching becomes a little more frantic, less gentle moving of objects out of the way and more haphazardly swiping them around the drawers in your fruitless scavenging. 

“Um… hi there—” comes a voice from behind you, nearly startling a scream from your throat as you whirl around. You hit your hip on the open drawer and wince, and the owner of the voice puts her hands out in front of her, as if she had just spooked a small dog. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…” She flits her eyes up and down your minimally clad form as she apologizes, and you self consciously yank your shirt down over your thighs. “Are you okay? Can I help you with something?”

She’s young, pretty, maybe a few years older than you, with doe-like green eyes and a pale face dappled with caramel-colored freckles. 

“I-I was just, um… looking for an envelope? A-and a stamp, if you have any,” you confess shakily, your heart pounding and cheeks burning as you fidget nervously with the hem of your shirt. You glance over the girl’s shoulder and see a door you hadn’t noticed before, now open. There’s a drab-colored couch and a small flickering TV inside, playing at a volume low enough that you hadn’t heard it at all through the closed door. She must spend most of her night shift in there, watching reruns of old movies and munching on stovetop popcorn to stay alert just in case some poor soul comes stumbling into the office in need of her assistance. You feel a small pang of jealousy in your stomach as you imagine what a relaxed, carefree night she must have been having, while you were fighting for your life under the very same roof.

“Oh, sure! They’re just, um… Excuse me—” she says meekly as she steps in your direction. You scurry out of her way, swiping the pen and paper from the top of the desk as you do. She takes your place to crouch down and tug open the very bottom drawer in the stack you had been searching through, and rifles around for just a moment before she finds what she’s looking for. She hands the items off to you as she rises back to her full height, just a couple of inches above your own. “Here you are. Is that all you need?”

Yes. No. Not even fucking close.

You turn over the stationery in your hands, running your thumbs across the smooth surface of the envelope as you debate whether or not you should ask her for what you really need—help. 

But the girl has so much life in her eyes, so much color in her cheeks that you can see even in the office’s low lighting, that you’d never be able to forgive yourself if you decide to involve her in this. Her face would be printed on the side of a milk carton the second you open your mouth.

“Mhm, just this stuff. Thank you.” You do your best to make it sound like the truth.

“...Are you sure?” She presses, gesturing to either side of her neck, her auburn eyebrows peaked with concern.

Shit.

In your effort to make sure your bottom half stayed covered, you had forgotten about the dark marks Joel had created around your throat just a handful of hours earlier. They must be pretty noticeable already, if this girl—Chrissy, her name tag reads—is able to spot them just by the light of one yellow bulb and a few slats of moonlight.

You nod, fighting the whimper that threatens to escape when you bring one hand up to press into your bruises, the other holding your letter-writing supplies in front of your lap.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” you lie, though you can tell she doesn’t believe you. You wouldn’t believe you, either. But you’re thankful that she decides to let it go, anyway. 

Chrissy nods, too. “So… you’re trying to mail a letter, then? We can’t really send it from here, but there’s a few mailboxes in town, if you’re gonna be sticking around for a little bit.”

“Oh, um… I’m not sure. Maybe,” you reply, offering a small smile as you shift your weight awkwardly. “Thank you.”

Chrissy presses her lips together, giving you another quiet nod along with one last sympathetic glance at your disheveled form. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else? I might have a pair of sweatpants with me if you—”

“No, no, it’s okay. I have to… he’s gonna, um…” You fumble, gesturing back to the room at the end of the row while you scramble for some kind of excuse that doesn’t give too much of your situation away. “I’m just going back to bed anyway, so… I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

A few beats of silence linger between you before you speak up again. “Could I write it in here, though? Just like… at the desk? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

She looks at you like you’re a kicked puppy as she replies, “Of course you can. I’ll be back there, if you decide you do want the change of clothes after all. If you could just close the door on your way out, and… be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” you half-whisper, and you can’t help the way your bottom lip trembles when Chrissy retreats back into that cozy little room, leaving the door cracked open just enough for the voices from her movie to keep you company while you write. You glance up at the clock once before you begin, promising to allow yourself no more than five minutes to say what you need to say, seal it away in the envelope, and sneak back into bed without Joel ever noticing you were gone. 

You used to pride yourself on your neat handwriting, when you were still in school and a thing as trivial as that actually mattered. But you haven’t had to write anything by hand in so long now that you hardly recognize the disconnected capital “T”s and chaotically pointed “M”s as you scribble them down. The words are still mostly legible, though, even the ones that were accidentally blurred by stray tears you couldn’t wipe away in time before they hit the page.

You read over the letter once as the clock counts out your last remaining seconds, and decide it’s good enough to be slipped inside the envelope and secured with a swipe of your saliva. Your stomach flips when you go to write your home address on the front, fearing that you’ve forgotten it in all the time that Joel has spent scrubbing you clean of who you were before you met him. But when you close your eyes, you hear the song your father used to sing to you to help you remember it when you were little, in case you ever got lost and needed to tell someone where you came from. It had never really come in handy, until now.

With your sufficiently addressed and stamped envelope in hand, you quietly exit the office and pad your way back down the sidewalk to the room where your captor lies waiting. You press your ear to the door before entering, and wait until you hear the telltale groan of the air conditioning kicking back on. When the mechanical sound reaches its full volume, you slip back through the door and shut it behind you all in one swift, delicate movement. You slink over to your side of the bed like a cat, and tuck the envelope underneath the mattress as you gently crawl back underneath the covers, next to Joel’s still-sleeping form, in the exact same position you had left him in. The slight disruption of your weight depressing the mattress prompts him to roll over in his unconscious state, and his skin is scorching against your own as he wraps you up in his arms again, pulling you tight against his chest. He gives a slow buck of his hips against your backside and releases a quiet growl into your hair that makes you shiver despite the heat he radiates.

You can’t fight the pull of your heavy eyelids for much longer, the wave of adrenaline you had been riding all night finally coming to a crest and crashing against you all at once. Telling your story, getting the words down on paper, having some kind of half-assed plan to make sure you don’t just disappear into the ether, seems to have given you more peace of mind than expected, at least in your delirious, traumatized, and sleep-deprived condition. For now, you’re still treading water, still holding your head above the surface of the deep dark unknown that awaits, and it’s enough for your exhausted mind to finally show you a few hours worth of mercy. 

You will survive this, you won’t disappear, even if you have to take it one excruciating day at a time.

—

The first day of the rest of your life begins that hazy morning after, when Joel finally rouses around ten o’clock from what seems to have been a relatively deep slumber. He tightens his grip around your upper body as he purrs out a sleepy groan, wetly kissing under your ear before mumbling, “Mornin’ babydoll.” Your body seems to have not caught up with reality just yet, evident in the way your cunt still flutters involuntarily at the sound of his gravelly morning voice and the warm slide of his tongue. You curse yourself for the instinctual reaction, wishing you could just reset all of the ways that your nerves have been trained to react to his touch over the past few months.

“Morning, Joel,” you whisper, and you can feel his half-hard length pressing into your back.

“You sleep okay, sweetheart?”

Your eyes go a little wide at his question, and you’re grateful that you’re still facing away from him. Is this a test? You can’t be sure anymore. But if he had ever realized you were gone during the night, surely he wouldn’t wait until the next morning to do something about it… right?

You nod. “Mhm, fine.” Your voice cracks a little, but Joel doesn’t seem to notice.

“Good, tha’s good…” he snakes a hand between your legs, finding its way underneath your—his—oversized shirt to lightly prod at your bare little hole. “And how’s she doin’, hm? Was dreamin’ about her all night, how fuckin’ good ‘n tight she was for me… She feelin’ sore at all this mornin’, babydoll?”

“A little, yeah.” His touch makes you shudder, but you know better than to try and reject it.

Joel tuts, circling the roughened pad of his finger over your clit. “Poor thing… ‘M sorry about that, baby. Jus’ got a lil’ carried away last night, tha’s all. You forgive me, don’t you, sweetheart? You understand?”

You hesitate, swallowing down the bitter taste of the lie you’re about to tell. “Yes, it’s… it’s okay, Joel.”

“Mmm, just the sweetest lil’ girl, ain’t you?” Joel says, swiping two of his fingers through your folds to collect some of your involuntary slick. He pulls his hand out from under the covers and sucks one of the damp digits into his mouth, releasing a pleasured groan. Joel gives another slow grind into your ass before bringing his hand in front of your face, pushing the other still-wet finger between your lips and forcing you to taste yourself. “See how sweet she is for me, baby? Think she forgives me too, don’t she?”

You nod around his finger, humming in pretend agreement.

“Perfect… so perfect for me, my lil’ doll,” Joel muses, sliding his finger back and forth across your tongue and teasing the back of your throat with each intrusive thrust. You fight to suppress your gag reflex until he eventually removes his finger from your mouth, wiping the dampness off on your shirt. “C’mere, pretty girl. Gimme a kiss,” he grumbles, gripping a paw onto your shoulder and pulling backwards, using the leverage to get you to roll onto your other side to face him.

The warm morning light coming in from the window illuminates the back of his head, highlighting the way his mussed salt and pepper locks stick up every which way. This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him since you had first spotted his disturbing keepsake box peeking out from underneath the bench seat, since he had snapped at you for trying to grab it, since you had still thought that would be the worst thing he’d ever do to you. It’s almost comical, in a sinister sort of way, how harmless Joel looks like this, with his scarred nose and stubbled cheeks still rosy from sleep.

You hadn’t anticipated how complicated it would be to still have to feign intimacy with him, how dizzying it already feels to stand on the sidelines in your own mind and watch your desire wrestle with your disgust. Joel presses his lips against your own, and you do your best not to grimace as you kiss him back. He still feels the same, still tastes the same, like black coffee and cigarettes and spearmint. But he isn’t the same.

Joel parts your teeth with his tongue as he deepens the kiss, hungrily lapping into your mouth as you let him take what he wants, only pulling away from him once he breaks the connection first. He brushes some of your hair away from your face when he does, admiring your slightly swollen lips as he rubs his calloused thumbs across your cheeks.

“Whaddya say we just have ourselves a nice afternoon together, hm? Think there might be a lil’ town nearby, could get us somethin’ to eat, maybe even do some shoppin’, dependin’ on what’s there.”

There’s a few mailboxes in town, if you’re gonna be sticking around for a little bit, you hear Chrissy’s voice repeat what she had told you last night, and feel an exhilarated pang in your chest when you remember the envelope you have hidden beneath you.

You try not to answer too eagerly, taking a beat before you respond with a quiet “Really?” “Yeah, babydoll. Why, you don’t wanna?”

“No! No, I—that sounds good. I just didn’t think… I thought you’d wanna get going again, or something. After… you know.” You bring your hand up to touch the sore sides of your neck instinctually, unable to bring yourself to say it, to think about it for longer than a couple of seconds. 

“Like I said, sweetheart. We’ll just leave your hair down today, nobody’ll see ‘em,” Joel says casually.

It’s unsettling, the evenness in Joel’s tone as he suggests having a normal day together, attempting to just move on as if the contusions you’re discussing aren’t a direct result of his abuse. You’ve only just woken up, and you’re already feeling the whiplash from the softness of his words in comparison to the degradation he was spitting at you last night. You wonder how much of it he even remembers, if he had really just let some entirely separate entity inside of him get “carried away”, or if it was all Joel. He couldn’t have been that good at hiding his true self from you the entire time you’ve known him, could he? What does it say about you if the signs had been there all along, and you’d either chosen to ignore them, or missed them completely? How can you ever be sure now which Joel you’re in the company of at any given time?

“Okay,” you agree, putting on a small smile that he’s quick to return. 

“Alright, we’ll get to it, then. Jus’ stay put, sweetheart, lemme bring our stuff back inside, find you somethin’ to wear.” Joel plants a whiskery kiss on your hairline before tossing the sheets aside and rising to his towering height, retrieving the key to the truck from underneath his pillow in the process. You can’t help the way your stomach flips as you watch him lumber towards the door, squeezing your thighs together under the covers at the sight of his visible morning wood bobbing in his briefs with each heavy step. You roll back onto your other side as soon as he steps over the threshold, letting the corners of your mouth drop as you curse yourself again. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? A constant battle between wanting to forget and feeling disgusted with yourself for even trying to? There has to be some way to navigate this without completely fucking loathing yourself for just trying to stay alive. 

Joel returns to the room a few minutes later with his arms and hands full of the clothing he’s chosen for both of you. He drops his boots onto the carpet with a heavy thud, but sets your own shoes down next to them with more care. He tosses a few articles of his own things onto his side of the bed before coming around to yours, holding out his free hand for you to take. “Up you go, babydoll, c’mon,” he commands. You grab hold of his steady hand, using it for support as you slide out from underneath the covers and push yourself off the mattress, the springs creaking in protest.

Joel entwines his thick fingers in yours as he leads you toward the small bathroom. You loosen your grip to shut the door behind you, expecting him to drop his handhold to allow you some privacy, but his grasp only tightens. You inhale sharply at the dull pain caused by his fingertips digging into the back of your hand, and turn to face him with panicked eyes. The stern expression you’re met with makes your heart rate quicken, terrified that you’ve already somehow found a way to upset him again.

“I just need to use the bathroom first, I’ll try to be quick,” you insist, still attempting to untangle your fingers from his.

“Not with the door closed you don’t.”

“...W-why?” You question timidly.

Joel jerks his head toward the shower, his gaze still trained on you. “That lil’ window up there. Just gotta make sure you ain’t gonna try anythin’, tha‘s all.”

You glance over to the tiny window he’s referring to, the kind that doesn’t even open all the way, just cracks open enough to let the steam out.

“But… I couldn’t even fit through there. And I… I learned my lesson, Joel, I promise—”

“Shh, don’t gotta get all worked up, ‘s alright, sweetheart. Jus’ do what I ask, okay?” Joel finally drops your hand in favor of cradling the side of your neck, brushing his thumb across the tender cartilage at the front of it. “You understand, don’t you, baby? ‘S just a precaution.�� 

Joel speaks to you so gently, with such adoration in his tone and in his expression, even with the threatening placement of his hand on your throat. The blatant display of manipulation makes you dizzy. You drop your gaze from his face to the bathroom floor, and try to use the cool sensation of the tile against your bare feet to ground yourself. 

“Are you gonna watch me while I… go?” You ask meekly, your cheeks warming with embarrassment.

“No, no, sweet girl,” Joel placates, using a hooked finger to lift your head back up. “I’ll wait outside for you. Jus’ leave the door ‘bout halfway open, ‘s all I’m askin’. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before, hm?” He pinches at your chin with a teasing smile, continuing to act as if everything he’s asking of you is completely ordinary. 

“Yeah, but…” You start, but Joel huffs in warning.

You concede with a sighed “Okay,” and he finally leaves you to conduct your business. You’re thankful that he at least isn’t watching you, instead just leaning his broad back against the doorframe outside the bathroom with his arms crossed. Although, you think he might’ve taken a peek when you had first sat down, in the brief moment when your oversized t-shirt was rucked up to your tummy. You go through the motions as quickly as possible so as not to prolong your mortification, practically flushing and stepping over to the sink all in one hurried movement. Joel slides himself behind you as you’re washing your hands, setting your clothing down on the back of the toilet before placing his hands on your hips. His hard length is slotted against your backside, and you do your best to ignore him as you dry your hands with the bleach-stained motel towel. He only continues to use his weight to press you harder against the edge of the sink, undeterred by your efforts, and you wince a little at the pain that begins to pulse under your ribcage.

“Lemme tell you how this is gonna be from now on, okay babydoll? Look at me,” Joel orders, and you meet his darkened eyes in the mirror where he towers above you as he continues, “You ain’t gonna do nothin’ for yourself or by yourself ever again, ‘s that clear? Nothin’. Know we had some of that before our lil’... incident… and you liked that, didn’t you, baby? Liked me takin’ care of you like that?”

You nod, because it’s true.

“You’re nothin’ but a lil’ doll to me from now on. Gonna let me dress you this mornin’, do your hair up, brush your teeth, everythin’... And when we go out today, you ain’t gonna talk to anybody, ain’t even gonna look at anybody, you understand? Nobody except for me. I’m all you got for the rest of your life. And that’s what we always wanted, ain’t it? Just each other…” He says the last part almost wistfully, letting go of your waist with one hand in favor of twisting a lock of your hair around one of his roughened fingers. “You’ll come to like livin’ like this, babydoll. Got no other choice, do you?” 

You swallow, biting your lip to stave off burning tears that you know will only upset him if you let them spill. 

“Do you?” Joel repeats.

“N-no, I don’t,” you reply, and he hums in satisfaction before rewarding you with a wet kiss to your temple that makes your skin crawl. 

“Yeah, tha‘s right… Turn around now, arms up for me, sweetheart.” Joel steps back from the sink to allow you room to obey his command, and you don’t hesitate to do so. He carefully lifts his t-shirt over your head before tossing it to the floor, and you shiver as the breeze blowing in from that one cracked window wraps itself around your naked form. Joel tuts when you wrap your arms over your pebbled nipples on instinct, gently scolding, “Nuh uh, don’t cover up what’s mine. Lemme look at ya.” He uses a light touch to guide your limbs down to your sides, whistling low as his predatory eyes roam around your trembling body, spending a few extra moments on your exposed chest. “Most gorgeous lil’ thing in the whole world… Would jus’ parade you around with me all bare like this if I could, show y’ off to everybody. Bet you’d like that, huh babydoll?” He taunts, pinching at one of your hardened buds.

“Y-yeah, I would,” you appease quietly, but he doesn’t seem to pay your unenthusiastic response any mind, too preoccupied with shimmying a new pair of panties up your legs. He takes a little too much extra care in settling them around the creases of your thighs, and huffs to himself when he notices the way your little hole squeezes around nothing at the sensation of his fingertips sliding underneath the elastic, just barely teasing your folds. Joel has you turn around to face the mirror again so he can clip your bra behind your back, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite yourself when he zips on the pretty blue dress he picked out for you. You like how it compliments your eyes, even with how tired they look.

Just like Joel had told you he would, he doesn’t allow you to do a single thing for yourself as he completes the rest of your morning routine, holding your chin securely in the dip between his thumb and forefinger as he brushes your teeth and tips a glass of water into your mouth for you to rinse out the minty paste with. He cradles the base of your skull with one hand, using the other to scrub the sleep from your eyes and the oils from your cheeks with a damp washcloth. Joel gets to work on your hair next, pulling the top half of it into two small ponytails and tying each of them off neatly with ivory-colored ribbons. You’re surprised at the delicate movements his hands are capable of despite their size, despite the damage they’ve caused. He’s clearly had some practice with this, but you try not to think about it too hard.

Once Joel deems his doll pretty and presentable, he leads you out of the bathroom and has you sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling before you with some protest from his aching joints. He slips a pair of lace-trimmed socks over your feet, one at a time, followed by the same canvas sneakers you were wearing when you had first met him. The sight of them brings you a little comfort, somehow, the discolored laces and smudged rubber soles making up just about the only familiar things you have in your possession anymore. Nearly everything you own, everything about you, has been tainted by Joel in some way now. You should’ve just taken off in the other direction when he’d pulled over his truck, left nothing but a cloud of dust in your wake and never even have given him the chance to ask you in that stupid disarming Southern twang of his if you needed a ride, if you were lost, if you had family or a boyfriend who cared about you enough to come looking for you. You’d advertised yourself in big bold lettering that you were the perfect fucking victim, practically wrapping the rope around your white woolen neck yourself so he could lead you to slaughter. This is what you deserve, stupid lamb that you are. Look at you now.

Joel instructs you to stay perched on the bed while he completes his own morning regimen, and you hang your head low as you rest your hands in your lap, picking at the skin around your fingernails. They’re practically raw now, but you can’t stop even though you should, even though it hurts, even though you’ve made yourself bleed. It had always been a nervous habit of yours, and you hadn’t noticed until you started up again last night that this was probably the nicest your nail beds had looked in years. You’d felt so comforted, so safe with Joel that you hadn’t had a reason to continue the self-destructive behavior, until all those fluttery feelings were ripped out from under you in a second. You’d been biting and tearing at your skin all night in addition to the many other things you’d been doing instead of sleeping, the habit having returned with a force as you’d used the pain to… what? To make up for the lack of blood you’d shed, to apologize to the ghosts of Anna and Elizabeth and Ruby and ask them please not to haunt you, you’re sorry, you’re sorry, you’re sorry. See? He’d made you bleed, too.

You’ve been attempting to balance your attention between your hands and the bathroom, waiting for an opportunity to arise where Joel is distracted enough for you to retrieve the envelope from its hiding place without him seeing. You keep your chin close to your chest as you observe his movements, trying not to make it too obvious that you’re watching him. After a few minutes, he finally bows his head into the sink to splash some water onto his skin, and you quickly reach behind you to swipe the letter and shove it underneath the waistband of your panties. Joel still hasn’t lifted his head back up by the time you’ve got it situated, and the corner of your mouth twitches in satisfaction. For a plan that you’re basically just making up as you go along, it’s going better than you expected. 

You return to your preoccupation with your hands as you wait for Joel to finish up, and you remain hunched over yourself even as he flicks off the bathroom light and stalks over to where you’re now sucking the taste of bitter iron from one of your fingers. He startles you out of your focused state when he asks, “What’re you doin’, babydoll?”

You lift your head up, releasing the smarted skin from your mouth as you hold out your hand to examine the injury. Both of you watch a little crimson pearl begin to swell in the groove where your nail disappears into the skin. “Oh…” Joel sighs, grabbing your hand gently and raising it closer to his face, turning it this way and that to admire how your blood catches the light. You swear you can see his pupils dilate before he sucks your finger into his own mouth, swirling his tongue around your skin as he savors the metallic tang mixed with the remnants of your saliva. You feel the sharp edge of his teeth graze the pad of your finger, and your breath catches as you fear he might just bite the thing clean off from the last knuckle down. He doesn’t, of course, just lets his eyelids quiver and his cock twitch before releasing the digit from his mouth and rumbling out a quiet growl. You can’t help the somewhat sickened expression that overtakes your features as you watch Joel’s perverted little display, but work to fix it into something more neutral as he opens his eyes again.

“Pretty sure I got some bandaids in the truck, lemme get dressed ‘n then we’ll hit the road, hm?” he says, in a tone too casual to belong to someone who’d just had a near orgasmic reaction to tasting your blood. You suppose this is just another consequence of your survival—having to endure Joel’s unconcealed freakish tendencies now that he knows you’re not a flight risk anymore.

Joel tugs on his standard uniform—his thick canvas jacket layered overtop a simple undershirt and earth-toned flannel, paired with tattered jeans and his sturdy leather work boots. You allow him to help you to your feet as he leads you out to the truck, his thick fingers laced tightly through the ones of your non-bloodied hand. You have to squint at how bright the late morning sky is, your eyes aching as they adjust from the dim lighting of the motel room. 

“Hey, morning!” Comes a cheery voice from down the row. You turn your head in the direction of the sound, and put your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun in an effort to get a better view of the person it came from. When your gaze finally focuses, you’re able to make out a feminine figure with auburn hair and alabaster skin, her slender arm waving at you in greeting—Chrissy.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You dip behind Joel, attempting to hide yourself from her view. He puts a protective hand across your body, and takes the lead in responding to her. “...Mornin’. Can we help you with somethin’?”

Her footsteps pause on the pavement, and there’s a beat before she says anything else, likely not expecting Joel’s less-than-friendly response to her sunny demeanor. “...No. Well, I just wanted to say ‘hi’, check in on you—Both of you,” she corrects herself quickly. You’re staring straight down at the sidewalk, avoiding eye contact just like Joel had demanded of you. But you can still see her out of the corner of your vision, attempting to lean around Joel’s large form to get a better look at you. You feel like your heart is about to burst out of your fucking ribcage as Joel turns his head toward where you’re cowering behind his arm, then slowly back to Chrissy. 

“We’re fine,” he says plainly. 

The silence that follows feels like it lasts an eternity. You hate how weak you must look in front of her, practically shaking where you stand like a newborn fawn while you seek the protection of this much older man whose hands, Chrissy must notice, are large enough to have created the marks on your neck that she had pointed out last night. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, to figure out the reason—the person—behind your flighty, nervous, and fidgety behavior in the office. Chrissy takes a few steps backwards, away from this strange couple standing before her, one she realizes is in her best interest not to engage further with.

Her voice comes out noticeably more unsteady now than it did when she had first approached you. “W-well, I just like to say ‘hi’ to guests on my way out if I see them. So… ‘hi’, and, um… if you need anything, someone else will be here soon to cover the office.” She rushes through the latter part of her sentence, like she just wants to spit all the words out as quickly as possible so that the interaction can be over with. You can’t see his face, but you suspect Joel is giving her some kind of hooded-eyed look that’s making her stumble over her words. “Have a good day, you two. Be careful,” she adds before she departs, and you know that those last two words were meant for you.

Joel watches her as she disappears around the corner of the building, only lowering his arm once she’s completely out of sight. You don’t look up until the sounds of her footsteps dissipate, until Joel’s arm is on your lower back as he ushers you into the truck. 

“Get in, baby,” he commands, opening the door for you and helping you up into the passenger side of the bench seat. He reaches across your body to buckle your seatbelt for you before you can even lift your hand to do it yourself.

Once you’re situated to his liking, Joel closes your door and makes his way over to the driver’s seat, climbing inside and igniting the rumbling engine. He roots around in the truck’s center console, tossing aside cigarette butts and gum wrappers and loose change, eventually coming up with a single bandaid. Its paper sleeve looks crumpled and neglected, and you suppose it’s because he’s never really had a use for it until now. There isn’t much of a point in trying to bandage the type of wounds he typically inflicts, anyway, the damage already having been done.

“Gimme your hand, darlin’, hold it still for me.” Joel tears open the wrapper with his calloused thumbs and flicks away the little paper tabs from the fabric’s sticky surface, wrapping the bandaid around your finger tenderly. It would be a sweet moment, if it weren’t for the way he adjusts himself upon seeing the deep red droplet bloom on the other side of the little cotton pad. You make a mental note to work on finding a different self-soothing mechanism, lest you want to wake up in the middle of the night with his knife at your neck and his cock in his hand, deciding that you weren’t worth keeping around after all, that he just had to know if you really are just as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside, to know if the rest of your volume tastes as sweet as the small sample he’d already taken. 

You sit on your hands the entire ride into town.

—

The drive was mostly silent, but actually kind of pleasant, finally giving you a real opportunity to take in the vast surroundings of… wherever you are, New Mexico. Your hands had gotten uncomfortably warm where they were squished under the bare skin of your legs for the entire half-hour or so drive, but you didn’t dare remove them. You’d have had nowhere else to put them anyway, not with the way Joel’s large paw was clamped onto your upper thigh, his pinky finger slipping underneath the hem of your dress and tracing the edge of your panties. You were grateful you’d had enough forethought to slip the envelope into the right side of your underwear, predicting that he’d get handsy like this in the truck. You’d just kept your body perfectly rigid with your head turned away from him, and tried not to descend into madness thinking about what he had made of your interaction with Chrissy earlier, if he suspected anything, if he knew you were hiding something, if he suddenly developed x-ray vision overnight and knew exactly what you were concealing under your dress.

Relief washed over your nervous system as you’d observed jagged rockwork and ochre-colored scrub brush gradually turn into modest Pueblo-style homes and businesses, glad to have finally been granted an opportunity to escape the motel after your twelve hours of terror. The steadily approaching signs of civilization had served as a reminder that the world does actually have other people in it besides you and Joel, despite what he’s been attempting to convince you of.

The town had become more populated the further the truck had chugged along down the main street, with a few friendly-looking people walking their dogs and carrying paper grocery bags as they strolled along the storefronts. You had even found yourself staring at a group of girls around your age sipping their coffees together on a bench, giggling and gossiping and making you wish you had problems as superficial as theirs. They reminded you of the type of girl Ruby was, bright-eyed and carefree and beautiful, and you’d tried to swallow down the bitter resentment that had begun to simmer in the pit of your stomach. Joel hadn’t even seemed to notice the girls as the truck passed them by, and you weren’t sure if his disinterest should make you feel satisfied or hopeless. Yesterday, you would’ve told yourself that you’re the love of his life, of course he wouldn’t dare have eyes for anyone but you, he’ll never leave your side for the rest of his life. But the sentiment takes on a much different connotation today, feeling more like a life sentence than a daydream.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the truck had finally rolled to a stop outside of a quaint little restaurant, its terracotta awning decorated in twinkling lights. The sign on the facade read The Coyote Café, and had a little silhouette of the namesake animal painted next to the words. You could see through the turquoise-trimmed windows that there were already a handful of other patrons inside enjoying their meals, and it made you feel a little safer, knowing that Joel would be more motivated to put his mask back on in front of so many pairs of eyes. In a town this small, the two of you probably stick out like a sore thumb enough as it is, the café seeming like the kind of place where the waitresses know the regulars by name. You were eager to finally be able to drop your defenses, at least for a little while.

Joel had chosen a table all the way in the back corner of the place, furthest from the door, and had insisted on the both of you sharing the same side of the booth. Although you could feel a few stares on you, you’d remained steadfast in your obedience of the rules he had laid out for you this morning, and kept your head down while he placed your orders with the waitress—a plate of enchiladas and a beer for him, and a cheese quesadilla with a glass of water for you. You probably would’ve been able to eat more, but you suspected that his choice of meal for you was deliberate, so as not to provide you with too much energy that you might use to make another break for it. It had reminded you of the way he had convinced you to take your coffee decaf at Moody’s that night, all of it seeming so fucking obvious now, in hindsight. 

“You know somethin’, babydoll?” Joel suddenly asks through a mouthful of beans and rice. “Think I saw a lil’ consignment shop just down the way. Whaddya say we head on over there next, let you pick out somethin’ pretty for yourself since you been so good today, hm?”

You hadn’t exchanged many words as you’d been eating, other than the occasional semi-awkward comment about how nice the weather is or how good your meals are. Ordinarily, you’d be making up stories about the interesting-looking strangers sitting at the counter, or quizzing each other on the country songs playing over the radio, or debating whether the color of his flannel was really green or brown. You’d sometimes hang out at diners so late into the evening that the waitstaff would have to kick you out, and you’d be apologetic as you made your way back out to the truck, hardly able to believe how much time you’d lost track of while you were flicking wadded up straw wrappers at each other or taste testing each other’s desserts. You mourn the version of Joel in those memories as you push around the crumbs on your plate, quietly responding to him with, “Really? You’d let me?”

“‘Course I would, sweet girl.” He wipes the corners of his mouth with a napkin before lowering his voice, leaning down closer to your ear. “Long as you let me take it off of ya later tonight.”

“Let me.” As if you have any other choice.

Joel chuckles at his own crude comment as he slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you flush to his side. He finishes the rest of his meal with one hand while he rakes the other along your upper arm, occasionally sliding a finger underneath your bra strap and snapping it against your skin. You’re only able to let your posture relax for just a moment when the waitress brings around the check, and he finally removes his scalding hand in order to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket. He slaps a few crumpled bills onto the table, and then his thick fingers are forcing themselves in between your own smaller ones as he pulls you up from the booth and leads you out of the café. You spare a glance at the motherly-looking waitress on your way out, and you exchange sympathetic looks with each other behind Joel’s back. You wish she didn’t look so sorry for you, like you’re a wounded animal being dragged around by the hunter who shot an arrow through your heart. But isn’t that what you are?

Your feet stop dead in their tracks when you step down onto the sidewalk outside the cafe, your brain too enamored with the landscape of the surrounding valley to tell them to keep moving. The wide open sky and limestone hills dappled with towering evergreens almost look like a painting, the way the mountains turn paler shades of blue-green as they extend further into the distance. It’s so unlike the flat, beige midwestern states where you and Joel had begun your journey together, it almost takes your breath away.

“You just gonna stare up at the sky all day, or d’you wanna get to shoppin’, hm?” Joel says, startling you from your state of wonder.

“Oh, no, we can go. I’m sorry,” you submit, hurrying to Joel’s side. He makes an enamored little hum and kisses the top of your head before continuing to pull you along the storefronts. You keep your head down, counting the cracks in the pavement as you work to keep up with his long strides. 

“See that buildin’ down there, the one with the pink siding? Tha’s the lil’ clothin’ store I was talkin’ about.” You flick your eyes upward to where Joel is pointing a lazy finger, immediately spying the technicolor little shop he’s referring to. The unusual choice in paint color is certainly eye catching, but what you’re really drawn to is the dark blue metal receptacle standing on the sidewalk just in front of it—a mailbox, just like Chrissy told you there would be.

This is it. This is your chance. When you get up to the mailbox, you’ll improvise a way to direct Joel’s attention elsewhere, and use the opportunity to slip the envelope from under your dress and deposit it into the box without him noticing. You’ll have to move quickly, precisely, quietly, or it’s all over. 

You should start tugging it loose now, so that it’ll be halfway in your hand already by the time you reach the store. You pat your hand against your upper thigh, expecting to feel the paper crinkling against your skin.

Except, you don’t. You can’t feel it. It isn’t there anymore. 

You feel panic start to bloom in your chest, but try your best to keep your cool. The mailbox is only a few paces away now, and you’ll have nothing to deposit into the slot, because your chance at preventing yourself from being completely forgotten by the one person in your life who might actually care, is gone. Vanished.

Where the fuck is it? Had it fallen out when you were exiting the truck? Is it laying on the floor of the cab for Joel to discover when he helps you back into your seat later? Where could it possibly have—

“Hey, excuse me! Mister?” A young-sounding voice—male, unfamiliar— shouts from behind you, followed by the sound of jogging footsteps. Joel turns around, your hand still held securely in his own. Your feet stay planted exactly where they are, your eyes unblinking and locked onto the mailbox, just barely out of reach. “Did one of you drop this? Found it on the floor by your table when I was cleaning up, didn’t want you to leave it behind.”

“Uh… don’t think so. Lemme take a look—” Your arm pulls in an uncomfortable direction as Joel reaches toward the boy to retrieve the mystery object. Well, it’s a mystery to him, you already know exactly what it is. All you can do is hold your breath while Joel undoubtedly reads your handwriting on the front of the envelope, hoping that if you stand perfectly still, you might really be able to disappear. Without the letter, that’s the ending you’re destined for now, anyway.

Joel laughs breathily. “Y’know what, son? Think we did drop this. Thank you kindly for bringin’ it back to us.” Joel squeezes your hand so hard you think all the fragile little bones might shatter, and you bite your lip to stifle a pained whimper. Your eyes start to water as the crippling fear you had felt last night begins to climb its way up the back of your throat, and you wonder if this bus boy in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico, might just become the last person besides Joel to see you alive. Or at least, the back of your head. Without giving him a good look at your face, he wouldn’t even be able to recognize you when they show your picture on the news a day or two from now, or be able to go to the police and tell them that this lumberjack-looking older man he encountered was the one he saw you with last. You should’ve known better than to try tempting fate again. 

“Of course! Have a good one,” says the bus boy, and a tear escapes your waterline as you wait for the sounds of his footsteps to fade. You can’t be sure if the wetness collecting on your lashes is from the pain of Joel’s iron grip on your hand, or from the sheer terror of being found out by him again. What you do know, is that he doesn’t seem like the type to let you go through all three strikes before he puts you out.

“We will,” Joel responds, but only loud enough for you to hear.

He turns back around after what feels like an eternity, sighing disappointedly. You don’t need to look at him to know that he's upset, angry, furious. It radiates off his skin, penetrates your soul, wraps itself tightly around your throat in replacement of his hands. Your palm is sweating, but he doesn’t let go, just digs his dull nails into the back of your hand as he snarls a one-worded command close to your ear—”Walk.”

Joel drags you the rest of the way to the mailbox, shoving you down onto the wooden bench just beside it. You’re surprised that whatever it is he’s about to do to you, he’s confident enough to do it in broad daylight, in front of a few dozen potential witnesses. You keep your eyes on the ground, waiting to hear the flick of his pocket knife or the cracking of his knuckles, but all that comes is a tired groan as he kneels before you, lifting your chin up to face him. 

Joel wags the envelope in front of your face with his other hand, looking at you with a more pitied expression than an enraged one. “You wanna tell me what this is, babydoll?” He asks in a confusingly even tone. You search his eyes for the reddish hue they had become last night when he was spewing obscenities at you and threatening your life, but you don’t find it. 

“It’s… it’s a letter,” you admit, blinking away tears. You avoid his gaze even with your chin raised, looking around at the townspeople to see if any of them are staring at the little scene the two of you are putting on. 

“Don’t look at them, baby, look at me. They ain’t gonna help you.” Joel jostles your face in his grip, and you flick your eyes back to him immediately. “I can see that it’s a letter, sweetheart. Who were you plannin’ on sendin’ it to, hm? Whose name is this?” Joel prompts, using his thumb to tap the name and address you had scribbled onto the center of the paper.

You let out a sob, the patronizing tone of his questioning making you feel so fucking stupid with just a few words. How is he so fucking good at this? At breaking you down, spinning the effects of his own actions back onto you, making you feel like the one in the wrong.

“My mom, I… I wrote it to my mom,” you reply through little sniffles, and you can hardly stand the exaggeratedly sympathetic way that Joel’s eyebrows peak at your answer.

“Babydoll… What could you possibly have to say to her? You ‘n I both know she don’t care about you anymore, never did. She’d open this up and just throw it right in the trash… I mean—” Joel releases your chin from his hold in order to slide his thumb along the envelope’s seal, tearing open the flap and removing the page of motel stationery you had written your plea on in the dim lighting of the office. “Here, sweetheart. Why don’t you read it to me, lemme hear what you wanted to tell her so badly you decided to do it behind my back. You snuck outta bed last night to do this, I assume?”

You nod, taking the letter from his hand and unfolding it.

“Hm… Have to do somethin’ else about our sleepin’ arrangements from now on, then.” You don’t know what he means by that, and you aren’t looking forward to finding out. “Read it to me, darlin’, go ‘head.”

You take a deep breath, blinking hard as you try to get your watery eyes to focus on the page. “I s-said that, um… that I was sorry for leaving, that I don’t blame her for the way she treated me growing up.” You pause to swallow the moisture collecting in the back of your throat as you cry, and attempt to steady your wavering voice before you continue. “A-and… that I was with you, that we’ve been traveling together, but… But I got scared, and I w-wanted her to come get me. Um… ‘Please don’t forget about me. I love you. I’ll see you when you get here.’ That’s the last thing I said.” You set the letter down on your lap and collapse in on yourself, burying your wet face in your hands as your sobs become full force.

“Oh, babydoll…” Joel soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your arm as you cry. “Where did you get all these ridiculous ideas, hm? Sayin’ that you love her, that you forgive her? I mean, do you really believe she’d come lookin’ for you all the way out here, snatch you up and take you home ‘cause she cares so much about you?” “I… I don’t know, maybe. I just couldn’t sleep last night, I got so afraid of—” “That girl in the parkin’ lot this mornin’... it was her, wasn’t it? You moseyed on into the office lookin’ all pitiful last night and she talked you into doin’ this? She took advantage of you, baby?” Joel brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his face contorted in dramatic concern.

You’re so caught off guard by his accusations, your shuddering body finally stills. You lift your head up from your hands, wiping your eyes on the backs of them. “...What?”

“I mean, I know you know better than this, so it must’ve been her, puttin’ all these nonsense ideas into your head, convincin’ you to do somethin’ that’d only get you hurt… She don’t know what’s good for you like I do, baby. What was gonna happen when you sent off your lil’ letter, and you waited ‘n waited ‘n waited, and your mama never came for you? Who’d be there to take care of you, hm? Me. Always gonna be me.” Joel gently swipes his thumbs underneath your eyes, collecting the salty dampness still there. He sounds so sure of his own words, they’re almost convincing you that you’re misremembering your encounter with Chrissy last night. It was late, you were exhausted, and Joel is right, you do know better, you’ve told him yourself. Had she done more than just provide you with the envelope and stamp? Was the idea in your head before you walked into the office, or had she somehow persuaded you of it without you being any wiser? You’d remember if Joel’s version of the story is the one that really happened, wouldn’t you?

“No, Joel, she didn’t—” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“She did, baby, I think she did… Poor girl, must’ve been too out of it to even remember what really happened. D’you see now? This is why it’s gotta be just you ‘n me from now on, sweetheart. ‘Cause there’s all kinds of people out there like her who wanna get inside your head, convince you of things that ain’t true…”

As undeserving as Chrissy may or may not be of the blame for your childish endeavor, you feel relieved that your most recent act of defiance doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Joel as the one you attempted last night. He seems more… sorry for you, than anything else, and you aren’t quite sure why he seems to feel differently now than he did a mere twelve hours ago. Maybe he views it as proof of your loyalty, the fact that you had made it outside, gotten yourself a small taste of freedom, and still decided to crawl back into bed with him afterwards. You could’ve taken off running down the road if you’d really wanted to, his “insurance policies” be damned, but you didn’t. You stayed. And you hate what that says about you—that you’re fucking weak. But you’ll take “weak” over “dead”, at this point.

You decide to poke the bear a little bit, just to confirm if you’re in the clear the way you seem to be. “So… you’re not upset?” 

“No, no, I ain’t upset with you, baby. But this is why you can’t do things without me no more, okay? Can’t trust nobody out there except for me, can you?”

You pause, then shake your head at him.

“Good, good girl… Y’know what, baby? Here—” Joel reaches into the pocket of his jacket, and pulls out a tarnished silver lighter. “Why don’t we just forget about all this, huh? Forget about your mama, that girl back at the motel… All those people who don’t care about you the way I do.” He places the cool metal object in your hand and closes your fingers around it. 

“You… want me to burn it?”

Joel shrugs, quirking his mouth into a pout. “Don’t see why you’d wanna keep it… Ain’t goin’ anywhere, is it?”

“...No, guess not,” You mumble under your breath. You know what this means, what it symbolizes, why he wants you to do it yourself. So you can bear witness to your one last glimmer of hope dissolving into embers and ash on the sidewalk at your feet, so you can understand that there is no other outcome other than the one Joel had predetermined for you the second you had agreed to let him take you to Moody’s that night. There is no way out. There is submitting to him, and there is death. Take your pick.

You flick open the lighter, raise the flame to the paper, and watch it ignite. It only takes a few seconds before you feel the heat begin to lick at your fingers, and you drop the still-burning remainder of the letter onto the pavement below so as to spare your hands any further injury today. It curls in on itself and crumples as it chars, and the two of you stare at it until it’s nothing more than a smoldering pile of cinders. You swear you can see an amused smile tug at the corners of Joel’s lips in the edge of your vision.

“Don’t that feel better, baby? Finally lettin’ go of her?” he asks, taking the lighter from your hands and shoving it back into his pocket, along with the envelope. 

You sniffle once, shrugging. “A little.”

“I know, sweet girl. It will, in time. You’ll understand sooner or later.” Joel groans as he pushes himself back up from his kneeling position, then extends a hand down for you to take. He helps you stand, then adjusts your hair to sit nicely over your bruises again, before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Now, that red-headed girl… Did you get her name, sweetheart?”

“...Chrissy. Her name was Chrissy,” you answer hesitantly, the intonation of your response sounding more like a question.

“Chrissy…” Joel repeats, letting her name settle on his tongue. “Whaddya say we just head on back, see about payin’ Chrissy a lil’ visit, hm?” He retakes your hand in his, then starts in the direction of the truck.

Your heart sinks into your stomach, realizing the hidden meaning of his words. “Jus’ gotta bring ‘em to me, tha’s all. Maybe go after ‘em if they try to run,” Joel had rasped into your ear last night, when he was describing the role you’d be forced to play in continuing his sick habit. 

“W-what? Why? She won’t be there anymore, remember? She said she was leaving, that somebody else would be working in the office for the day,” you frantically remind him, hoping that she can be spared after all, hoping that you can be spared from your first time acting as bait.

Joel stops walking for a moment as he considers your words, then pulls you along with him again. “Pay a visit to whoever’s workin’ in there, then. See if they know where she might be.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, just stares straight ahead as he hones in on the truck like a missile. The overly concerned facade he had put on earlier seems to be faded now, replaced with something more akin to bloodthirsty determination.

You scrape the far corners of your mind for something, anything you could say to him that might talk him out of this. “But… I thought you said she took advantage of me? Why would you want to see her if you think she tried to hurt me?”

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. His nostrils flare.

“You know why.”

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[maripoorsa]

I think op wrote this in good faith but I gotta say, as a disabled person who can neither run or disarm someone if they are Already armed with a knife, gun, etc I feel much safer having one of my own. To tell me otherwise would be the equivalent of just telling me to deal with whatever happens to me and let people do what they want with me, grit my teeth til I'm done getting mugged(or worse).

"De-escalation training" means it's a skill, one that many people don't have and requires you to keep cool in deeply unsafe and harmful situations, another skill most people don't have.

I do not see how thinking you can de-escalate a determined attacker is any less of a pipe dream than believing being armed will make you safer.

De-esscalation is a great tool! Please don't misunderstand. But it's one that's better suited for hospital staff, people in your line of work, and people like social workers. And if I'm correct, it's not often that those groups of people are completely alone with someone Intending and Choosing to be aggressive with a specific goal in mind. In fact, for those people seeking to cause harm to someome, simply having staff around acts a deterrent right? They can no longer commit whatever act they were going to do if there's an audience.

Right?

There is a large gap between someone getting upset and aggressive due to drugs, a bad conversation, poor treatment, stress, and/or not having the support/tools to calm down who then find the person on the recieving end of their aggression has people protecting them (multiple in the case of hospitals and other professional settings) and the people specifically seeking to cause someone a specific kind of harm for their own personal gain on a street, parking lot, or any other place where their victim is alone/won't bring attention.

I think conflating these two groups is misguided at best.

Personally? I'd get a dog. A dog is a mighty deterrent that also is not a weapon. But I don't have a dog. I live in a small apartment with no yard and no room for a dog that could be considered protective.

So i am armed. And I think suggesting that being unarmed is somehow better because i might get harmed Worse while armed is an irrelevant point to make.

In that hypothetical I'm being harmed/attacked against my will either way.

I would love to see articles written about the specific situation youre talking about and not general "more weapons = more harm" posts.

Show me the article that states that in a 1 on 1 or god forbid 2+ on 1 interaction that de-escalation has proven to be more effective than being armed when it comes to protecting yourself.

ive said it before and i'll say it again but carrying a weapon does not make you safer, it gives the person assaulting you a free weapon. i know we live in a time where fear is profitable and the cute pink stun guns make feminism sexy but they do not work like you think they do.

there is an extremely slim chance you will be able to deploy the pepper spray/taser/gun in a way that does not harm you at all. pepper spray blows back, guns miss, tasers slip. there is a much much larger chance things go poorly and you end up getting hurt worse than originally intended because now your assailant is pissed and more heavily armed.

im not talking out my ass here, i'm a case manager at a homeless shelter for addicts. we have a lot of violent behavior. none of our staff carry any sort of weapons. we are trained to de-escalate or remove ourselves from the situation. i have worked there over two years without being harmed despite intervening in many fights and having weapons pulled on me.

there is safety in numbers. there is safety in well lit streets and staying on your phone and knowing when to scream and run. there is no safety in "personal defense items".

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 25

The suffering of Bruce will continue for maybe 2 more chapters and then we're back on the timeline- Alien Rubicon was... painful. But it did make me finish ch26 so- enjoy-

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 25 >>next(TBC)

You’ve gotten too used to the chaos, to something always happening- maybe that paranoia will be your downfall, maybe it was just your mind telling you your life wasn’t meant to know of peace and serenity. You did thrive on the adrenaline fights provided, no matter how much you dream of living quietly, painting and just existing in a better world.

Sadly, that wasn’t a reality that could be, not for you. So, while the sun was still yet to rise, you basked in the night, letting the shadows provide warmth and letting them speak to you- you haven’t done that in a while. “You’ve neglected us.” Maybe John was right for once- even if you initially laughed at the idea, meditating won’t hurt you now.

Well… you weren’t one to stay still for long, so despite letting your mind fly, eyes closed softly, you let your body twitch, shift, move as it wished. You let your thoughts and worries pass through you- let the thoughts that you were failing Debbie, or your brothers, come and go, you let the guilt that kept you awake go with them- even if it all still lingered. The shadow’s whispered nonsense became clearer the more time you spent like this, body resting on the recliner, warm blanket over you- “Open your eyes, darling.”

The clear voice made you flinch awake, and yet, as you looked around, it was clear you were dreaming, your body sat upright in a void of complete darkness. “It’s nice to finally meet you, daughter.” The voice accompanied by a warm hand made you gasp as you turned around, your eyes immediately meeting a woman’s, a woman you’ve never met before, and yet you knew her-

“You-you’re Death herself.” Your statement was met with a gentle caress and a loving smile as she confirmed her identity. Death has been written to be this cold, awful thing- ripping and painful- and maybe it was to others, but all you saw was love and melancholy. You saw the love of a sister and the sadness of loss only a mother could hold. “Did meditating kill me?” At your whispered words She could only laugh, a melodic thing that filled you with warmth, and you definitely understood why the Dacians referred to Her as they did. She was a sister guiding you, a mother to welcome you on a lonely road to whatever afterlife you believed in, the warmth needed to face mortality… but- “It’ll never be your turn. We both know that.”

“I would have caught you in your realm, but you move so fast, you could rival the speedsters. It won’t kill you to take it slow sometimes, but then again, Morpheus couldn’t understand that either.” She teases, and your cheeks flush. You felt like a child being scolded for drawing on the walls. “I have eternity and beyond at my disposal to take it slow-“

“You do. But do you understand what that means?” You knew. It’s another reason why you’ve been unable to sleep sometimes. Immortality- it’s a dream, especially when it comes with the powers gifted to you. “It’ll be lonely. I won’t age, but everyone- Mark, Oliver, dad, mom-“ your voice shook. “They will eventually have to walk by your side. While I’ll have to keep moving the other way.” It wasn’t natural for you to speak so freely about things so personal. But you couldn’t bring yourself to lie or do your usual avoidance tricks.

“You’re still holding back.” She said softly, with so much understanding that it made your lip tremble and your eyes tear up. “I appreciate it- I really do- I don’t want to give this up. This opens so many possibilities- I can learn every language, can learn any skill, and see so many things I wouldn’t have had the time to, but it still hurts so much to think about how everyone I know will eventually meet the same fate-“ She let you sob into her shoulder, her hands running soothingly over your back. “Yes. But what’s life without love and hurt? I know you think the one thing that makes humans human is hate, but I’m a romantic at heart-“  Her soft palm raised your head and wiped off your tears. “I think it’s love, and I’ve never seen love like you humans hold for each other, platonic or otherwise.”

“You came to tell me to be a lover?” You sniffle as you chuckle. “No. I’m just being selfish and wanted to see you.” Death nudges you. “But it won’t kill you. You’ll see, the fates have already sewn your threads. It’s just a matter of which one you decide to walk.” You didn’t move away from her, but you did wipe away your remaining tears. “Sounds like the illusion of choice.”

She just smiles. “You have choices. Plenty. And all will work out in the end. You’ll see.” Her hands came to cup your cheeks again. “Oh, you’ve grown so much- still tripping on stairs, but you’ve come so far in life.” You whined as she teased and pinched your cheeks. She truly was a mother in the end. “We’ll have eternity to know each other, but sadly, I can’t stay anymore. You make sure to visit Gotham too, she misses you-“

And just like that, you woke up before you could say your goodbyes, hand reaching for someone long gone. Your eyes barely opened, your relaxed expression turning into a frown as your eyes caught an imposing and dark figure flying just a few paces over you, its figure obstructed by the shadows in a familiar manner. “…Dad?” You groan as you raise a bit, your hands trying to rub the sleep from your face. “No.” The unfamiliar voice immediately woke you up fully, your body tensing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Debbie has been sleeping in today, granted everyone did, so by the time they were supposed to eat, it was already lunch. Everyone was slugging, still tired from moving, packing, and unpacking, but Nolan’s and Debbie’s eyes moved over the present people, counting heads, before the mother locked eyes with her son. “Mark, is your sister still sleeping?”

The young adult shrugs, hair disheveled as he gets up. “I’ll go check, we stayed up quite late-“ A scream cut him off, and before he could react, his father was already outside.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You’ve been staring at the balding Viltrumite for a while, and he’d been staring at you right back. “And he sent you to give me- this?” Your eyes went down to the- you weren’t sure how to describe it… It was a plant- that you were sure of. Similar to the carnivore Pamela had and yet it was very clearly alien. The colors of it are continuously changing, seemingly settling on a color when it feels strongly in one way- is it even sentient like that? “I offered.”

“You offered?” Your eyes went back up to him. “Yes. We’ve been watching you. We’ve seen you deal with Vidor with no hesitation, you’ve dealt with most enemies efficiently, put fear and doubt in quite a few of the younger ones, and stood up to Thragg with no fear whatsoever. You’re brutal and efficient. We two are similar to a point,”  you couldn’t help but trace your hairline at that, “we enjoy what we do. And yet people talk to you, they want to be your friend-“

“You Viltrumites have friends?” Your mouth moved faster than your brain could process, but your words only earned a dry laugh. “I guess we don’t, not in the sense you humans do-“ The man continued speaking, and the more he did, the more you felt bad for him and the Viltrumite way of living- even though a part of you felt like it was manipulation. “You can change all of that- but you haven’t, you’ve just accepted it as an absolute, unchanging fact.”

“If I go against the Empire everyone would be trying to eliminate me-“ You just huffed at his words. “They’re already against you. You’re so lonely most days you want to cry, they think you are unstable, you said that. If they think of you as a means to an end, what do you think will happen when they find someone better than you, whom they can control even more? You’re at rock bottom with nothing to lose, the only way is up.” You shrug. “Or just die in the ditch and cover yourself with the dirt you dug. You want change, you’ve gotta fight for it, grandpa. You’re giving incel ‘woe is me’ vibes right now.”

You looked back at the alien-plant thingy. “What even is this? How sentient is it?” Your eyebrows raised as the plant seemed to coo. “I can’t take care of a sentient thing that needs attention 24/7- I can barely keep up with taking care of myself-“ The plant stuck its- uh- tongue? Out and licked Conquest’s hand. “… Well… it likes you more.”

“I think it wants to eat me.” The deadpan way he delivered the line made you snort. “I- fair. I can’t keep a carnivorous plant around a baby, tho- so you can go back to Thragg and rip him to shreds-“ Conquest was quick to interrupt. “He wanted to give you the pelt of an intelligent and endangered alien species. Kregg and I insisted on the plant.”

“ ’aight- that makes both of you more intelligent because what-“ Your hands rubbed your face. “I’ll take the plant- just- no pelts of aliens, please.” You did as much, putting the little thing on the small accent table next to the chair. “… You’re still here.” You sigh. “I wanted to fight you.” You quickly answered that you weren’t going to fight him. “I’m on vacation- mom would kill me if she found out I went and picked a fight!�� Conquest crosses his arms. “You’re afraid of your human mother?”

“Yes. Yes, and you should be too, a mother is a scary thing, and when she finally loses it, I know where I’ll stand.”  You floated up to his height just to poke his chest while at eye level with the Viltrumite. “Motherly instincts are an insane thing- that being said, I am bored.” You cross your arms. “…Have you ever heard of the game tag?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were ashamed of the scream that left your lips as Conquest grabbed your leg out of nowhere and turned you upside down, your body hanging limp as he laughed, boasting with glee that he won. You’ve had a good comment about it, but your focus was on the blur that crashed into the older Viltrumite making him let go of you. You kept your body floating on its side as you looked at Nolan ducking it out with the older Viltrumite, pouting as you realized this might be more complicated than it needed to be.

Keeping up with them was easy- making them slow down and listen wasn’t as easy. It did feel nice to know Nolan was so willing to fight for you, but alas, you had to bring out the big gun- Debbie. So with your mom in your arms and a very confused Mark, you let the woman tear into the two Viltrumites like they were little children, nodding along with her words. “And you-“ Your eyes widened as she turned her finger to point at you. “What were you thinking? Not only about interacting with him- but did you even sleep? Did you eat breakfast? You’re in your pajamas- it’s cold!”

“Grandpa Morgan isn’t that bad-“ You pouted. “Grandpa Morgan?” Everyone questioned, and you shrugged. “He said Conquest is more of a title than a name- He’s old and he sounds like Jeffrey Dean Morgan- so- Grandpa Morgan.” Debbie sighs and rubs her temple. “Wha- I can’t just keep calling him something he doesn’t want to be called-“ the oldest Viltrumite couldn’t stop himself from laughing, his shoulders shaking with the unhinged sound that escaped his throat.

“He’s laughing-“ You turned from Mark to Morgan. “You’re laughing at me?! I can just call you Jumbo, you old elephant-“ The balding man just laughed harder, making Nolan squirm with unease. “Mom!” You whined at the woman in your arms.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

As night came and your parents were getting ready for a party, you and Mark were feeding the alien plant thing to see what it liked- you were still pouting over Grandpa Morgan laughing at you. Alas, seeing the carnivorous thing favor eggs over mice or raw-cut meat was an interesting sight. Ivy’s plant was the opposite- but this may be because yours seems to still be a kid, she may need the calcium… You were getting too attached to the thing.

“Mark, what are you doing? Why aren’t you dressed?” Debbie’s voice brought both of your attention. Marked looked from you, dressed in a plain black dress with a set of pearl jewelry, back to his mom. “Well, I thought I could stay back and help April-“ Debbie crossed her arms. “If your sister has to come, so do you. Get dressed.” And Mark pouted, but did as told.

“Who’s throwing the party, and how were we invited anyway?” You ask as you put the eggs away. “Oliver Queen, I actually sold him a house about a year or two ago.” Your mother smiled as her fingers gently moved some of your stray hairs back in place. “Nice guy- a bit eccentric.”

“He’s a rich man. They all are. And he’s a hero, so…” You shrug. “Robin Hood, right?” Nolan’s voice came as he patted down his suit, making Mark snort as he too appeared. “Green Arrow, dad. But he does look like a Robin Hood movie fancast.”

“He’d make a great Robin, though Prince John would be more fitting, no?” You joke as you stick your thumb in your mouth and rub at your earlobe. Debbie, despite the twitch of her lip, swats at your hand. “Stop it. The man has done nothing wrong to us.” She tried to be stern, but the amusement was clear in her tone.

Your mom turned to April, but before she could speak the blonde woman was already going down the checklist. “-and I’ll make sure to keep an eye on the new family pet as well. Everything will be fine, Debbie. Enjoy the party.” Debbie sighs, but her shoulders relax. April was right- she was supposed to be relaxing on the family vacation… She felt it in her bones that the vacation wouldn’t be as relaxing as the average, normal family vacation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Nolan didn’t like parties, and he sure as hell hated all the heroes present at this one- Bruce included. Granted, he was glad that Mark and you stuck with Jason and his two red-headed friends. He squinted at your animated form speaking with the Tamaranean. You were too happy to be talking to her. Maybe it was a terrible idea.

“Leave it.” Debbie swatted at his chest. “They’re just talking.” Nolan pouts. “They’re too close, that other man too. Not to mention the other bats and their friends are trying to get close as well- I can just feel it.” Debbie raised an eyebrow while calling him paranoid, yet as her eyes drifted over a few of the heroes she recognized, she couldn’t help but feel the same.

You, on the other hand, were yapping Kory’s ears off with questions about her, mostly- Jason could only watch with amusement as your eyes sparkled at the tall woman. He knew you two would be immediate friends. His eyes drifted back to Roy who was talking with Mark, both complaining about shitty fathers. He couldn’t help but nod- this felt much more like a family, annoying little siblings and all.

Sadly, Jason never could get much peace these days- the sight of Slade with his crotch demons made his eyebrow twitch- wait… his- “Slade? Since when do your kids hang around you?” You asked before Jason could. “Are you really blackmailing them?” Your eyes moved to the three young adults behind the man. “Is he blackmailing you? Holding you hostage?” The three all seemed to smirk with amusement at the annoyance on their sperm donor as they all affirmed your line of questioning.

Slade just huffed, pouting as he turned to face you. “I’m not holding them hostage-“ The young woman commented something along the lines of him being too old to be holding anything up, which Slade ignored- “-but the media may have gone a bit crazy, and they wanted to meet you.”

“Is this about the prank? Because it was a one-and-done, old man.” Jason jumped in, and while Kory was still on edge, Roy and Mark immediately recognized what he meant. “Oh-yeah, Jason just wanted to mess with the bats- your father and Lex aren’t actually dating my sister- I’m uh- Mark, by the way. Nice to meet you.” Mark held his hand out and you did the same, introducing yourself and smiling once you could put names to their faces. “We were worried he had you under mind-control or something.” At Jericho’s amused voice humming through your heads, Slade sighs with defeat while you snort with amusement. “I fear I’m too thick-headed for that.”

“You call it thick-headed, I call it paranoid- not even John has as many protection spells set up, and I honestly think he needs them more than you.” Mark teases you. “There’s never too much protection-“ As you and Mark got into a friendly conversation with Slade’s kids, pulling a reluctant Roy and Kory in too, Jason’s eyes stayed on Slade's face. The annoyance on the man’s mug slowly turned to a softness the crime lord didn’t trust- it made Jason all kinds of twitchy.

The presence of Slade and his kids distracted Jason from the reason he brought Kory and Roy along to a party he otherwise would have avoided, Bruce. The man was inching his way closer and closer with each minute that passed- he was sure it’d be okay, despite what his kids said- You danced with Diana, let Oliver and Dinah twirl you around until all three of you got sick, you must be in a good mood.

However, he was making the same mistake over and over again, much like a crazy person, expecting a different outcome. He was approaching with his Brucie persona instead of the true face you knew him as. So, when his sickly-sweet voice called out your name with a familiarity he wasn’t deserving of, everyone around you noticed how you immediately tensed up. Slade’s hoard seemingly to be the first to crowd you and Mark as the man approached. Jason was right by them once the oldest Wayne was face to face with you.

Your eyes narrowed at the man. “Great. You’re here.” Bruce decides to brush off the annoyance and clear nervousness he brought you. “I was invited- but it’s nice to see my daughter while at it too.” Mark, the usually chill kid Jason knew him as, scoffed as he muttered under his breath about the man’s audacity. “Your mug is pissing me off.” Rose snorted at your bluntness, and Bruce’s smile twitched. To him, it was Jason all over again- but at least with him, he was sure he could fix it one way or another. He wasn’t even sure where or how to begin. “I just want to talk- actually talk-“

“Talk? You’ve had years to talk to me, just because now you feel guilty or some bullshit like that-“ Strike two for Bruce was interrupting you. “I know. But I’m still your father,” strike three, “and I have a right to see and speak to my daughter-“ And he’s out- quite literally. With one punch, he was out, passed out with his back flat on the floor, and Jason’s screech that turned into a boisterous laugh drew everyone's attention to your little group.

While Slade and Mark made quick work of grabbing you and pushing you away before you could start beating on the unconscious man, Tim sighed and pulled out a tablet, opened an Excel sheet titled “forgiveness chart” and started updating it. Steph looked over his shoulder, her eyes tracing over it. “What’s up with the numbers on Damian’s thing?” She asked, and Tim’s eyes followed what she was referring to. “54 72 79 20 74 6f 20 73 61 62 6f 74 61 67 65 2e” Tim looked at the blonde with a blank expression. “Must have been a glitch.” Stephanie gave him an unimpressed look. “Tim. Nobody believes that.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Kon-El kept replaying the punch one reporter caught as he tried not to laugh like Jason, who, if it weren’t for Roy, would be rolling on the floor. It was family night at the Kents, specifically “Make fun of what the rich wear” family night. “What did Bruce do to that poor girl? This is like the third time he gets hit by her.” Martha asked Clark, who was slumped, almost falling off the couch, as he rubbed at his face. He only groaned. “She seems like the type of woman who’d like to still work after marriage… I’d make a great house husband-“ Kon’s comment went ignored by everyone but his grandpa who started complaining about the economy and how he should keep working.

Jon’s eyes remained on the clip as it carried on playing when Kon stopped rewinding it. “It’s… a long story.” His mom sighed as she ate more of the popcorn they had around. “That man is getting more beat up than usual by his own kid-“ Grandpa Jonathan started with a huff. “We aren’t getting any younger, we have time.” Everyone’s attention was brought back to the TV as a reporter was quick to jump in front of you and your family, asking exactly what everyone wanted to know. And your angry glare and sadistic smile didn’t ease Clark’s worry. “I’m glad you asked- better be recording, because this is the only answer you’re getting to what my relationship with the fucker is-“

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams @djpuppy-kittens @wizzerreblogs @galaxypurplerose @burningkittenprince @swanluver @ohnoivefallen @eyeless-kun

The chart in question:

Tim doesn't know as much as he'd like to.

ch 26 Sneak peek

“It was a clean punch, good job.” Diana’s comment got a few reactions, mostly snickers and Hal almost choking on the coffee he was drinking, but her smile was due to the way you puffed out your chest. “Thank you- I’m glad someone can appreciate my skills.” Cecil huffed at the look you threw at him. “Anyway-“ He cleared his throat.

[olderthannetfic]

Ancient argument, but I still just do not get how the explanation for why mainstream source material is all about men is OBVIOUSLY because Hollywood is a misogynist culture dominated by men, so OBVIOUSLY the solution to get more stories about women is to support way more women creators, but also, OBVIOUSLY the reason why fanfiction is all about men is because fandom is primarily women creators, so OBVIOUSLY the solution is ?????

--

Well, you could start by not conflating all the arguments into a silly strawman, anon.

Do I need to put in the fucking FFN vs. Wattpad vs. AO3 shipping chart?

Don't come to the gay bookstore and act surprised about what you find.

Fandom is not all about male characters. Slash fandom is, for obvious reasons. It's just that most dumbass analysis ignores how and when female characters are popular.

For example, Darcy Lewis circa 2012 got a lot of that same little black dress OOC drivel treatment that other fannish faves do, and it was great. Did I read a bunch of badfic where she had Loki's baby or whatever? I sure did! But that wasn't good enough because whiny little babies thought boring Jane was the character everyone ought to care about. It was ~offensive~ that there was more meme-y nonsense fic for Darcy/Jensen from The Losers than for [virtuous but boring ship]. How dare, how dare, etc. (Darcy/Jensen made perfect sense! The only possible objection is that it should be a threesome with Cougar!)

Tony/Pepper was an actual ship people cared about in 2012. No, it wasn't just an over-tagged side ship in m/m fic... It's just that those het writers had no reason to switch to AO3 at the time and may never have uploaded their old work.

Despite what the haters think, plenty of those het juggernauts like Dramione or Reylo are full of fics by women who really like the female lead, not just the male one. There are whole communities of people writing OFC/blorbo and supporting the other writers who do this. I used to read all the Ardeth Bay/OFC stuff back in the day. I've never been into readerfic, but there again, plenty of people are quite into a f!reader character. Haters will mischaracterize all this stuff as a nonentity plus a hot guy, but that's not necessarily the case.

Video game fandoms are awash with f!player-centric fic.

Anything where you're making up the woman has women writing women.

Mainstream Hollywood trash with poorly-written women and/or women only in the feelings babysitter role and not the hot mess/woobie/deadpan snarker/pop culture-obsessed wisecracking geek/etc. roles doesn't always generate fanfiction because fanfiction builds on what is already there. If there is no appealing lady there, that is not what the fandom will build on.

But in general, women absolutely do write fic about female characters.

The only reason I don't have a billion more examples is that I personally tend to ship m/m for a host of reasons that you can find in all of the tedious "Why slash?" meta going back to the 1970s. I don't personally particularly like self-inserting, and I especially don't like doing it as a woman.

Don't come up to my face or the faces of other AO3y types and go "You know, the world would be better if you just gendered harder!"

Go find some women who experience more gender euphoria around their assigned gender. They're often not found in slash spaces. Maybe try the Romantasy girlies.

The fact that you can't find women writing aspirational or wish fulfillment female protagonists is because you are too stupid to live, not because it doesn't happen.

[into-deepspace]

hi there! i saw you are taking requests hehe So i have this idea, how would the Lads guys (in specific Sylus) react to your past situationships, lets suppose you just happen to mention your last romantic interest and the way he treated you before him and he's truly horrified and like ''did you really allowed that? sweetie, why? that's absolutely, no, not acceptable.'' bc obviously he is better and treats us as royalty, he would be horrified to find out the audacity some man have hahahaha if this is something you are comfortable with i would love to know your take on this, thank u so muchhh, mwa

hiiii oh my goodness tysm for the ask!! this is such a interesting premise, i've just written sylus's part for now but i have ideas (and some rough drafts hehe) for the other guys' parts that i hope to post in the next few days 🥰 so, without further ado:

sylus vs your (not-so-stellar) past relationships

690 words, mc/sylus, mini-fic format, mentions of (past) over-controlling relationships, they/them pronouns for MC, MC is described as wearing a dress, no smut but Sylus does get a lil handsy with it oops

request info • remember to reblog your authors!

zayne (coming soon) • rafayel (coming soon) • xavier (coming soon)

MC frowns at themselves in the mirror.

They don't look bad. Truly, they look good. Great, even, in the dress they'd picked out for tonight's auction. No doubt about it, the fabric hugs and flares in all the right places. It could be described as show-stopping, truly, with the way it suits them so nicely.

But, at the same time, it's clear that MC has some slightly different proportions to the online model. It doesn't affect how the dress fits, or how good it looks but it does affect how much of certain pieces of skin are showing. They run their fingers along the edges of the fabric, trying to pull a bit, wondering if half an hour is enough time to procure some fashion tape and tug the dress around so that the coverage is just a bit more... well, covering.

There's a knock at the door, more an announcement than a true request for entrance, and then Sylus is striding into the room, his neat suit jacket draped over one shoulder like a cape. He clasps an expensive-looking watch onto his wrist as he crosses the floor, smiling as his eyes drag up and down MC's figure.

"I was going to ask if you're ready," he comments with a quiet smile and a glint in his eye, as he steps up behind them and drapes his arms around their waist, "but now I'm not sure if I want to leave the house at all..." MC flushes, gaze breaking from the mirror and dropping to the floor.

"Yeah," they manage, breath tight in their chest, both from having him so close and from preemptive nervousness regarding any comments about their choice of dress. "This isn't super- uh- public-appropriate." Their gaze darts back up just in time to watch Sylus raise an eyebrow.

Once again, Sylus's eyes rake up and down their body, this time less of a flirtatious look and more of a genuine search. His thumbs brush gentle, idle circles over MC's hips.

"I don't see why it's not," he says, and MC almost believes him with how genuine it sounds. "Look," he says, tracing the lines of the dress with the smirk of a man that knows exactly what he's doing. "All the exclusive parts are covered, aren't they?" MC can feel their cheeks burn warmer.

"I mean- well, yeah," they choke out. "But... come on, I'm not stupid." They look up at Sylus in the mirror, trying their hardest to not think about the pleasant weight of his hands on their waist, not right now. "Not like I haven't had a boyfriend before. I know how guys think." Sylus's shoulders straighten a bit, and a slightly more serious expression crosses his face.

"Oh? Do you?" he says. "Enlighten me, then." MC huffs, feeling remarkably like an animal in a trap.

"You know. People don't like it when their partners, well, parade themselves around. I'm not stupid. I know this is a little too much to be wearing out and about."

Sylus gives a few slow blinks, then lets out a measured breath. He searches their face in their reflection for a moment, as if trying to figure out just what's going on. Finally, with a soft, serious voice, he speaks.

"I don't know what sort of insecure boys you've dated in the past," he says with distaste, "but I don't find myself in the business of telling my partner what they can and cannot wear." One of his hands moves to their jaw and cups their face, gently turning their gaze from the mirror to him. With a unique softness, he presses a grazing kiss to their lips.

"So," Sylus continues, "unless you yourself are uncomfortable with the amount of skin you are currently showing, I think it would be best to go ahead and get your shoes on so that we can begin our evening."

Well. MC's face splits into a relieved, grateful smile — they aren't about to argue with that. They relax a bit, leaning against Sylus as they gaze up at him over their shoulder.

"Sounds good," they breathe. Sylus smiles back.

"Good."

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Seven

Eddie cradles his can of Coke, sipping slowly. He’s trying not to be aware that there is not a single drop of alcohol here; he’s failing miserably. He’s also trying not to blame himself, but it feels like everyone else here is being punished for his fuck up.

It’s sunny and warm, everyone else rocking tee shirts and shorts, enjoying the weather, while Eddie wraps his hoodie around himself even tighter, convincing himself that he’s chilled.

Eddie slithers lower down in the fancy garden lounger he’s got half tilted back; he’s watching two pups chase each other around in clumsy circles at the other end of the yard. He’s vaguely mortified that he doesn’t actually know which one of them is Gareth’s kid.

Eddie wants to curl up and disappear when Gareth comes and sits next to him, offering a plate. There’s a burger on it, and considering Jeff’s on the grill, it’s a damn good looking burger. Eddie’s stomach turns over at the sight of it. “Don’t worry, I didn’t bother getting you any of the green stuff.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says vaguely, haunted by Steve’s not there frown, “I would have, you know, maybe a couple of carrot sticks or something.”

“Oh I’ll-”

“No. No. I’ll go in a bit,” Gareth sits back down, an uncertain look on his face, which makes Eddie feel even more shit. Gareth isn’t his fucking servant, and the guys treating him like he’s made out of glass is getting really old really quick, “you guys can drink, you know, if you want to,” Eddie offers, as an apology.

“Nah, we don’t really anyway, because of the pups,” he seems genuine enough, “and...I mean it just felt kind of harsh, I guess.”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m going to have to get used to it at some point right?”

“Yeah, totally. But it doesn’t have to be today.”

They sit in silence for a while, just people watching. It’s only a small group; Gareth’s mate who keeps giving Eddie the side eye when she thinks he isn’t watching. Jeff and his girlfriend. Chrissy. Jeff’s sister and her mate, plus Gareth’s Mom is around somewhere, Eddie’s pretty sure.

A few people have said hello to him, made polite conversation. It’s all so stilted and awkward and Eddie is already wondering how soon he can ask Chrissy to take him home again.

It’s quietly kind of devastating; Eddie had been really looking forward to this.

Eddie bites the bullet, “which one is Arlo?”

Both pups are vaguely the same age, and Eddie can’t remember seeing Arlo properly since he was basically a new born. He looked like a pink potato, so impossible to work it out from that.

“Blue shirt,” Gareth answers, “also the fucking loud one,” Gareth chuckles.

Eddie joins in, chuckling even though it’s not funny, not really. He can hear both pups squealing with joy from here. Until one of them falls over, and then the squealing turns upset and Gareth’s getting up to retrieve his pup. He ambles over, the pup just took a tumble on the grass, so he isn’t hurt, and Gareth doesn’t move with any urgency, simply scooping his pup up.

A kiss on each knee and a loud raspberry blown on a tummy and the pup is off again, like nothing happened at all.

Eddie manages a mouthful of his burger. It’s as good as it looks, and the moment he’s chewing he realizes he’s actually hungry. After a couple of mouthfuls he actually feels a little better.

“You get anywhere with the lyrics?” Gareth asks as he sits back down.

Eddie had read through everything the guys had given him, some of it good, some of it great, but as usual all of it disjointed and in need of a lot of structuring. Not to mention the actual music.

None of it has spoken to him though. He used to just look at words and the tune would come to him. Just kind of...appear, from some unknown place. Eddie’s written complete songs in an afternoon before, feeling like he wasn’t really involved, merely the delivery system for something that was being dragged from somewhere deep inside himself. Something that simply floated onto the page, funneled through Eddie’s hands and into his messy pigeon scratch.

Eddie with nothing but his guitar and a pen, creating something that spoke to literally hundreds of thousands of people.

He hasn’t lost the music, he’s pretty sure...he just doesn’t know how to get it to come back. Like a wayward pet that Eddie’s abused and neglected one too many times.

Eddie is struck vaguely by the image of his inspiration, his talent, being something like a cat. Maybe it’s gone off and moved in with a neighbor who feeds it better stuff than Eddie ever did. Maybe it’s purring up a tuney storm somewhere, for some kind old lady who dispenses tuna and has no idea what she has.

He’s pretty sure Steve would have some advice on the matter. Steve isn’t here though. Eddie wonders vaguely if he’s ever even going to see Steve ever again.

“I’ve read through it all. Some really good stuff in there...maybe I could bring it to the studio and we could have a little play?”

“You haven't written anything, have you?”

“Not a thing.”

Gareth snorts a laugh, and it kind of feels a little better, a little more natural, “okay. But don’t put any pressure on yourself okay, I guess these things take time and...you’re still getting better, you know?”

“Right. Sure.”

“How was that?” Chrissy asks, not looking at him. He’s glad she’s not looking at him, considering she’s driving, but, still.

“Yeah. It...well it was fucking awkward.”

“Uh hu, saw you got talking to Gar though.”

“Yeah. Yeah that felt better. They’re...they’re being so good about all this and I don’t know what to do with that, you know? It’d be so much easier if they were just...fucking angry with me. All this understanding is...it’s not right.” He’s not even angry. He’s not anything really. He feels like his insides have been scraped out.

“It’s because they actually like you,” Chrissy tells him, “fuck knows why,” she mumbles after.

Eddie sinks down in his seat, arms crossed tight. He decides to spend the rest of the journey staring out of the window.

“What?” Eddie squints up at Chrissy.

“The nurse is here to do a blood draw, it’s been a week since your rut, they want to check on you.”

“Oh,” Eddie scrubs at his face, manages to drag himself upright and flop on the edge of the bed for a second, gathering himself.

He doesn’t put it together until he’s slumped his way into the kitchen. It’s Robin. Steve’s best friend.

She already has her stuff laid out on the counter, a cushion from the couch ready to support Eddie’s arm. Chrissy faffs with the coffee machine, “how do you take it?”

Robin responds with what Eddie is sure is an illegal amount of sugar and creamer. He just shrugs to himself, taking his seat, Chrissy sliding him a coffee too.

“Okay, you know the drill right?” Robin asks as she tightens the elastic thingy around the top of Eddie’s arm.

Eddie holds his arm out, braced on the pillow, making a fist and giving a couple of squeezes. Robin mumbles something about a small scratch, and everyone waits quietly while Robin fills four little blood thingies up before deftly removing the needle and replacing it with a plaster. She ditches her gloves, downs her coffee, and then washes her hands and her mug at the sink.

She packs her things away, Chrissy’s phone rings and she heads out the French doors onto the deck to answer it.

Eddie takes the chance, “I’ll see you out.”

Robin finishes packing all her bits and bobs away in her cool box looking thing, “sure, thanks.”

Eddie calls himself plenty of names on the way to the door, Robin trailing behind. Thinks about how Steve is nothing to do with him. He’s stupid for asking. What’s the point of asking, even, it doesn’t change anything. It’s polite, no, it’s fine, he could ask? No, it’s weird and pointless-

Eddie’s so deep in his own thoughts Robin’s out the door and he nearly misses his chance, he’s landed on being pretty sure he definitely shouldn’t ask, but it slips out without his permission, “how’s Steve?”

She shrugs smiling, “yeah pretty good thanks, I’ll tell him you were asking after him,” and then she’s gone, getting in her little car and heading off down the drive. Eddie doesn’t know what he even expected. He doesn’t understand why he even cares. Steve’s a dick.

Eddie was just being polite, or whatever.

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter five - I will wait

Pairing: pre- poly! Chain x reader, Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: You spend the day telling people you're leaving, getting dragged into a fight, and having a somewhat honest conversation with Legend. Hyrule is having a very bad time, Four would like everyone to get their shit together so he can have a turn with a breakdown, and Epona is definitely my favorite. (Aka: I drop a bunch of information, smack everyone with the angst stick, and gloss over like three sort of concerning things)

Warnings: cursing, Canon typical violence, angst, blood

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

Previous masterlist Next

------

Morning comes with little fanfare.

Warriors wakes you up carefully, informing you it's time to be alert. You groan, but get up.

You set about getting ready for the day and putting things in the enchanted bag Wind gave you. (The kid is a life saver!)

Once you've gotten your things packed, you find yourself pulling Wind and Sky aside to tell them about your decision before everyone else.

You consider simply not telling them. You could just slip away. You could avoid saying goodbye.

You hate goodbyes.

You could avoid any possible confrontation.

That isn't right, though. Even with all the strange tension the group deserves to know you're leaving. They deserve to know there's one less person to feed.

Wind and Sky especially deserve to know. They've both been so good to you.

It would be a coward's choice to simply disappear and appealing as it is... you know it's wrong.

Wind and Sky deserve better.

Being a better and more healed version of yourself is hard and sucks sometimes. Making mature decisions sucks.

You take a deep breath and try to prepare yourself before you do this.

"Can I talk to you two?" You ask as you approach Wind and Sky.

"Yeah, of course!" Wind answers.

"Sure." Sky says.

You offer a soft smile. "I wanted to tell both of you something before the others."

"That's ominous." Sky says with a weak smile.

"What's going on?" Wind asks, tilting his head.

You take a deep breath. "I'm staying at the next town."

"What?" Sky croaks, eyes going wide.

He looks a little sea sick, but you can't imagine why.

"I'm not going to leave with you, I'll stay at the next town."

"Why?" Wind asks, sounding tense.

You give a weak smile. "I'm not a fighter like you guys. Besides... I'm slowing you all down. I think we can all agree I'm not exactly an adventuring expert."

There's a beat of silence.

"No one is at first," Sky says gently, quick to reassure you.

"Maybe not. But I'm staying at the next town." You say, trying to sound firm without sounding callous.

Wind rolls his eyes. "If this is because Legend is being a little bitch-"

"It's not." You say quickly. "I'm having a lot of things going on in my head, and I need space to sort through them."

"Oh." Wind deflates.

Sky gives you a look somewhere between guilt and relief. "If you're sure."

"I am." You say.

It really does seem like the best plan anyway.

"You're sure this isn't about Legend being a dickbag?" Wind asks.

You snort, "It's not that."

"Fine." Wind sighs. "If this is what you want."

"It is." You say.

Sky gives you a tired smile. "I'm sorry you got dragged into all of this."

"It's not your fault." You say, "Thank you for helping me out."

"Of course." Sky says with a strange hitch of his breath.

Wind rolls his eyes, "What were we supposed to do, leave you there?"

"You could have."

"Who does that?" The teen scoffs.

You shrugs, "Some people."

"Not us." Wind says.

"Not you." The agreement is pulling itself from wherever those strange dreams are from. You believe it, though.

Your The heroes aren't the type to leave anyone stranded like that.

Wind sighs. "Does anyone else know?"

"Time, and Four because he was there when I told Time."

"Four?" Sky blinks.

You nod. "Yes."

"If you're staying at the town, could you send a letter for me?" Wind asks.

You agree, of course you can! It's no work and he's done so much for you.

You let the news sit until after Wild has given everyone breakfast. You sit with Wind, of course. The boy is currently glaring at Legend as if the man did something personal.

Weird.

Why is the sailor so mad at Legend?

Did the veteran say something?

"I have something to tell all of you," You say, words feeling far heavier than you want to acknowledge or admit.

It shouldn't be so hard to tell a group of people that don't seem to want you around that you're leaving.

But...

The dreams....

Something makes it feel wrong to leave. Something is your heart says you're meant to he with this group.

(But that is absolutely ridiculous... right?)

All eyes turn to you except Wind, who is still giving Legend dirty looks.

"What is it?" Warriors asks, brow raising as he appraises your behavior.

"I'll be staying at the next town we find." You say, trying to bite back the abject bitterness about leaving.

"What?" Wild manages.

"Why?" Hyrule asks, face looking like you've struck him.

Okay...

Why do any of them care? You seem to just make them uncomfortable anyway.

"I've got some things to sort out, but I'm also not really a fighter. We all know I'm slowing you down."

"You are not." Sky says.

You smile, "I definitely am."

"It's- not your fault." Wild tries to reassure.

That's very sweet of him.

You laugh a little, "Either way, I'm staying at the next town."

"Are you sure?" Warriors asks.

"Yes."

"Well... Good luck." Four offers tightly.

Legend stays silent, not looking at you. The break is nice, in all honesty.

"I do want to say thanks to all of you, for helping me out and making sure I don't die." You offer with a smile.

"It's not a big deal." Twilight waves off.

"It's what anyone would do." Hyrule says.

You shake your head. "Not anyone."

"It's what we do." Time says.

"You are heroes." You smile a little.

"So we hear." Legend scoffs, glaring at the ground.

You sigh, turning back to your breakfast. This hasn't been the worst interaction, but it hasn't been the best either.

"Don't let him bring you down." Wind nudges you.

"I'm not." You say.

"Good." Sky smiles weakly.

Wind just sighs. "I'm going to miss you. No one else is as fun."

"Hey!" Wild gasps.

You laugh, letting the apprehension from before melt away. There's still an ending that almost seems to loom despite the relief you know you'll receive... but things are good.

Here, in this little bubble made up of you, a teenage scallywag, a grieving but friendly bird lover, and a horse, things are good.

Here you are safe.

All you have to do is ignore the dreams and half memories of your boys the heroes you travel with.

-------

You take the extra sword and shield that Wild gives you, wearing it on your belt easily enough. Traveling seems both easier and harder now that you know you have a set end point for your adventure.

You may not know how many days before you find a town, but you know every step is a step closer to leaving this group. A step closer to leaving Wind, Sky, and Epona.

Today, you travel beside Four. He's rather quiet, but at least he isn't hostile.

Though... Legend hasn't said but one thing to you since yesterday. He won't look at you now...

It's an improvement.

His constant anger is exhausting.

Four may not be as fun to be around as Wind, or as friendly as Sky, but he does at least steady you if you trip.

He dosen’t give you dirty looks.

Four answers any questions you have with a steady patience, eyes almost glinting violet in the light.

The dirt road you trek along is as monotonous as you may think.

Epona keeps falling a little behind Twilight to get your attention. If you slip her an apple at some point, that's really just between you and Epona. Isn't it?

(Wind notices, and he accuses you of being a pushover for Epona. But what if you are? She's an angel!)

Blue skies with big puffy clouds seem to be common here. Today is no exception.

Wind is just behind you with Hyrule, in front of you Time and Twilight walk.

Epona trails a little behind Twilight, choosing to walk at your side instead.

You pass Epona a bit of carrot while you all stop before a rickety old bridge.

"How many is that?" Wind asks from behind you.

"Not as many as she deserves." You flash a grin over your shoulder.

"Why do you like her so much?" Four asks.

You turn to look at him, and for a moment, you swear his eyes are red...

You hum, "She's a good girl. How could anyone not like her?"

"I guess that's fair." Four says, voice a little too far away.

"You okay, smithy?" Wild asks.

"I'm fine." Four says.

The man isn't particularly convincing, but you aren't sure how to bring it up.

There's the sound of rustling and hooves.

You turn, several others turning with you to find the new sound.

A blue lynel surges forward.

"Fuck me." You hiss.

Maybe it's not polite but really, lynels are evil and awful.

"You have the worst curses." Wind snorts.

Twilight turns and presses Epona's reins into your hands without warning, "Take Epona and get outta here. We'll find ya later."

You feel like you're supposed to argue and try to pull your own weight... but you've never fought a lynel in real life, and getting killed seems bad.

So, taking Epona and leaving it will be.

You grip her reigns and take a deep breath.

Scanning the area, you see a path through the trees that is more of a dirt road truly.

Epona can run faster than you...

The boys launch into fight, and you make the executive decision that riding Epona is a great idea.

You clamber up onto Epona, clumsy and panicking. As soon as you settle your weight on her saddle, you click your tounge, squeezing your knees to her sides for a second.

Regardless of your level of experience with horses, you can safely say you've never had to ride a horse while running from an evil centaur being.

Epona takes off into a gallop towards the path in the trees.

You can hear the others fighting, but for your own sanity, you focus on the reigns in your hands.

"When did they learn to ride a horse?!" Someone calls from behind you.

"FOCUS ON THE FIGHT!" Legend calls back, making more sense than you want to examine.

("Focus on the fight, firefly!" A man calls to you, the smell of malice wafts through the air.)

You need your brain to stop doing these things.

Epona breaks the tree line and jumps over a fallen log without stopping. She dosen’t seem to need much instruction.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart." You tell her, white knuckliing the reigns.

You don't pull on the leather in your hands.

If Epona has a plan, you aren't going to argue.

There's a whistling before a pain blooms in your shoulder.

An arrow connects in your shoulder. And you curse.

Looking over, you see several lizafos and a few like likes.

Shit!

You snap the reigns and squeeze your heels to Epona. "Come on, girl, hurry up."

You glance back and nearly scream. There's a shadow there - ripping through the enemies. It looks a lot like dark Link-

You snap the reigns again. You are not dealing with this.

You need a huge pay raise to deal with this, starting with getting paid at all.

Sometimes fighting is a great choice. This is not one of those times. Fighting an evil demon version of a hero seems like a great way to lose.

Epona starts running, clearing obstacles.

You lean forward, dropping the reigns to hug her neck. You might actually die.

"Fucking Bezos." You huff.

You aren't actually sure how this could be his fault but it sounds good.

The shadow ir whatever that is seems focused on the monsters while Epona runs.

Epona runs until she sees a clearing and then she stops.

You groan, getting off her back and looking at the artow in your shoulder. Ow.

This is such-

There's a panicking whiney from Epona.

You turn, eyes falling onto the Bokoblin who just attacked her with a bat.

What an ass! No one hurts Epona!

Ever.

Rage courses through you.

You take your sword in hand, using the arm without the arrow, of course.

Rushing forwards you engage with the blue bokoblin.

"Not my horse, fuck head!" You growl.

You dodge a sweep of the beasts' club.

Swing.

Duck.

Stab.

Pivot-

Epona nickers, bucking the air and slamming her back hooves into the beasts head.

"Good girl!" You praise.

You deal the finishing blow while the beast is down.

The moment the threat is gone you begin to crash, pain flaring in your shoulder where the arrow still is. Exhaustion seeps into your body.

Epona comes over and nudges your good shoulder.

"Hey, sweetheart." You smile softly.

She chuffs at you.

You laugh softly, "Are you okay, pretty girl?"

She nudges you again before walking forwards so your good arm brushes your arm.

"Are you offering to let me lean on you?" You ask.

Epona chuffs again.

You laugh weakly, energy waning too fast as you lean on her with your good side.

"What a sweet girl." You smile softly.

You sigh, looking at the arrow in your shoulder. The next town can't come soon enough.

Unfortunately you have no fairy or potion, so you suppose you'll just have to wait for the boys to find you.

Hopefully it isn't Legend, you aren't sure you can deal with his attitude right now.

You hear movement before you see it.

"(Y/n)?" A voice calls.

That sounds like Time.

Time emerges with Hyrule amd Wind in tow, gaze falling to you with a hiss of "Goddesses."

"Hi." You say, going to wave with your bad arm and wincing.

"You're hurt." Hyrule frowns.

"At least you left it in." Wind sighs.

"Are the others okay?"

"They're fine." Time says firmly, voice stern even though his hands shake.

You nods. "Good."

"Let me heal you." Hyrule says.

"You don't have to. I'm sure I'll be fine-"

"Don't be stubborn." Wind snorts.

"Fine. Thank you, Hyrule." You say.

Hyrule swallows hard as he comes closer. He won't look at your face but he is unnaturally pale while he stares at your wound.

His hands shake as he reaches up to break the long end of the arrow.

"You have monster blood on you." Wind says as he looks you over.

"Good." You manage, "Stupid thing attacked Epona."

"She isn't bleeding, at least."

"Just bruised- Shit!" You hiss out as the arrow his pulled from your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, honeybee." Hyrule says.

What did he just say?

"What?"

"I know it hurts." Hyrule soothes.

Why did he call you 'honey bee'? Maybe... maybe you misheard?

(You can almost imagine his voice calling you that as he points out stars above you...)

Hyrule's magic washes over you and it feels like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. It's like honeysuckle and summer night breezes.

It feels right. The magic feels like coming home to hot chocolate in a blizzard. It weaves into your being like it's meant to be there.

Those dreams are really messing with your head....

"We're glad you're okay." Time says tightly.

"I'm glad you're all okay." You offer.

"We're heroes, of course we're olay!" Wind declares with a grin.

You can't figure it out.

Time looks like he's pained but you can't find any injury.

Hyrule pulls his hand back from you, magic leaving with them. "Feel better?"

"Yes. Thank you." You smile.

"It's what I do." Hyrule waves off.

"We should go back to the group." Time says.

"Sure, just hang on." You say, procuring another bit of carrot and turning to Epona.

She takes the carrot from your hand happily.

"Really?" Wind laughs.

You nod, putting both hands on Epona's cheeks. "You're such a good girl, sweetheart. You kicking that beast was awesome!"

"She- she kicked a monster?" Time asks, sounding like he might fall over.

You nod happily, "Shs did! It was amazing!"

"Epona is pretty good." Hyrule nods.

Epona just gives a happy snort at your shoulder, as if she is checking that it's better now.

"She is."

"She must like you." Time says.

"I hope so." You smile.

"Let's head back, Wild is making lunch." Wind says, tugging you firward by the hand.

You let him lead you back to the group, Epona, following you with Time and Hyrule in the back.

The walk is slower on foot but you don't mind. Epona deserves a break.

Wind tugs you along until you break the trees and can see the others.

Sky sees you and makes his way over. "Hey."

"Hi." You offer. "You okay?"

"We're just tired. That thing had black blood." Sky waves off. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Hyrule healed me so I'm good." You shrug, grateful to be pain free in your shoulders.

Sky frowns, "What happened?"

"An arrow got me, but I'm okay."

Wind grins. "They had the good sense to leave it in until it could be treated."

"Oh." Sky squeaks.

You are sure why. Maybe Sky is squeamish? Maybe Hyrule is too actually...

Weird.

But monster blood is different...

Oh well.

"Wild should be just about done with lunch. Come on!" Wind says as he tugs you over to the cook.

Things aren't perfect, and you're still going to leave them behind... but it's nice right now.

Wind's enthusiasm and some good food do wonders for your mood.

You even get a little cat nap in thanks to Sky.

-------

Legend takes second watch, sending Four off to bed with a yawn and a knowing look. He knows he needs to do perimeter, but first, he wants to make sure everyone is okay.

Sky is half out of his bedroll, face in the pillow and snoring lightly.

You and Wind are near Sky. Wind is sprawled over you, acting half as a blanket thanks to his propensity to moving in his sleep.

You seem peaceful enough, face pressed into the pillow.

Wind flips over and is no longer on you, sprawling sideways out of his bedroll towards Wild. The champion is sleeping like a log.

Hyrule and Twilight sleep near the fire.

Four goes to sleep near Time, the two of them both closer to the fire.

Warriors sleeps on his back, near Sky again.

Legend sets about doing a perimeter check, careful to be as thorough as he can be. He won't let haste doom them.

After his check of the perimeter, Legend goes to sit near the fire again. He's awake enough, but the warmth is always welcome.

After all of his adventures, he's chronically a little cold.

He hears shifting, looking over towards where it is coming from, he finds you.

You're struggling against the blankets in your bed roll, brows knit together.

You make a soft sound.

"Link!" You manage weakly, still asleep.

Legend just stares at you. What are you dreaming that has you acting like this?

You kick your blanket off, continuing to fight against some unknown force.

There's a traitorous part of him that wants to comfort you. The part the hopes against reason that you're his lover who's been reincarnated again, just like always.

He pushes that part down.

"Link look out - she's behind you - Link!" Your voice is small even in your panic. He only hears you because he's awake.

Your face is scrunched up as your arm reaches up.

You bolt upright, eyes flying open with a choked gasp of a name. "Hilda -"

Oh.

Oh no.

You're breathing heavy and Legend -

Legend is having a breakthrough.

"You good?" Legend manages to get out.

Your head whips towards him, shoulders loosening when you see him. You swallow thickly.

"I'm - yeah... yeah... sorry." You manage to get out.

"It's fine." Legend says.

It isn't fine, actually, but that's not your fault.

What he just witnessed shakes lose memories of his lost lover who had the same nightmares about Hilda hurting him over and over.

They - the dreams looked just like whatever you woke up from.

Little details start falling into place.

It's you.

You're here.

What are you doing here?!

Oh.

Oh no.

Legend has been so rude to you. He's been a real piece of shit.

Honestly, he's ashamed. Even if you weren't his soulmate, reincarnated how he's behaved is atrocious. Wild is right about that.

You're still sitting up, trying to slow your breathing down when he looks over again, trying to slow your mind and heart down.

You're- as breathtaking as you've ever been. You always have been, even before he figured out that you really are - well... you.

Have you been having dreams like this from previous lives... the whole time?

Does your Link know?

Where is your Link? You haven't said anything about him at all.

Do you... have a Link? Did he pass?

Have you met him yet?

Legend has about a million questions and no voice to ask with.

He can't help wondering if you know. Do you know who you are?

What you are?

Do you know why they've all been struggling around you?

Can... Can you forgive him for how awful he's been to you?

Legend could kick himself for all of it.

Should...

Should he tell the others?

Is it kinder not to tell them because you're leaving again and staying at the next town?

He probably shouldn't tell them.

What's one more secret?

Legend absolutely owes you an apology, though. Maybe a hundred apologies.

He looks at you again.

You're sitting up, knees drawn to your chest as you try to slow your breathing. You look exhuasted.

How long have you been having dreams from past lives?

"It's not real." You whisper.

Legend swallows hard. He closes his eyes before he opens them and does what he should have done before he ever figured out that, in fact, his beloved trinket.

You are a person, and ever reincarnation soulmate or not, you deserve better from him.

"Do you want to join me?" Legend asks.

Your head whips over to look at him. "I don't want to intrude -"

"I'm offering." He says.

You get up, silently crossing the space to sit on the log with him. There's space between the two of you.

Legend can feel the urge to reach out and pull your close bubble up.

He dosen’t. He dosen’t have that right anymore, especially not after his behavior.

He shouldn't have taken his grief out on you at all, regardless of if you're you or not.

Goddesses. How long has he wasted with you?

"Bad night?" He asks stiffly.

You nod. "Yeah."

"Damn." He says.

You snort, side eyeing him. "Thanks."

"Do you... want to talk about it?" He asks as he looks you over.

You shrug. "Won't matter. Just a lot of weird dreams. Some are nice. Some aren't."

"That sucks."

"It does." You agree. "It's not the biggest problem, though. My sword skills are hit or miss, and I think I might have to fight Twilight for custody of Epona before I leave she seems to like me."

"She does." He agrees, trying to ignore the twinge in his chest at the reminder that you are leaving. "It drives Twilight up a wall. He's jealous."

He knows it's better this way.

He knows that the town will keep you safe from the danger of this quest.

He knows it's for the best.

But it's still losing you.

Again.

He's not even sure he'll find the words to apologize properly before you leave

"He shouldn't be, Epona adores him."

Legend just shrugs. "I don't understand cowboy feelings."

You laugh a little, tense and shaking. But it's the first laugh he's gotten out of you in a long time.

He's missed it. He's missed the way your laugh sounds.

"He's a boyscout who loves his horse." You muse, eyes softening in the firelight. "I guess you don't have Boy Scouts here, do you?"

The question is a genuine one, your gaze turning to him again.

"Uh, no clue what that shit is." Legend shrugs.

Goddesses! How is he supposed to act?!

You obviously don't know about the soulmate reincarnated thing. He can tell, he knows you, and your mannerisms are the same.

If you knew... You'd confront him about it. You wouldn't let them agonize like this if you knew.

He doesn't want to tell you. You don't seem familiar with Hyrule, so he's not sure you've even heard about the soulmates thing.

Besides, before just now, he's been a complete jackass to you!

He's kicking himself for it, but he would bet if he went from that to saying your his soulmate that your head would spin. You wouldn't believe him.

"It's something kids do. They learn survival and camping and sell popcorn." You explain.

"Huh." Legend manages.

"Can... I ask you something?" You ask.

"Sure."

"Did I do something to you?" Your question is fair, but the way you stare into the fire to avoid looking at him hurts.

"No. You didn't..." Legend weighs his options, the way this could play out. He makes his decision. "You just - You're too much like someone I lost."

"Oh." You say, understanding blooming in your lovely eyes.

"Look... I know I've been a real shit, and I know taking my problems out on you isn't fair. I'm sorry I've acted like a real..." Legend pauses, looking for the right words.

"Fucking asshole?" You offer with a half smile.

"Yeah," He breathes out. "I've been a real fucking asshole."

"Your behavior sucks. But, I forgive you, as long as you try to do better." You tell him. "I don't understand it all, but I know grief."

You have always been too forgiving of him.

Legend snorts. "Yeah."

"I don't expect you to be warm and cuddly." You crack a weak smile. "If you could just stop glaring at me all the time, I'd be thrilled."

"Yeah... I've really been an asshole."

"A little." You agree.

Legend raises one eye brow. "Just a little?"

"Okay a lot."

"I know." Legend says.

He does know. He knows because Wild shouted some sense into him. He knows because he examined himself. He knows because of how you watch him wearily.

Legend feels his fingers twitch with the urge to pull you close and keep you warm and safe in his embrace.

He ignores that urge for so many reasons. The biggest reason being that you have shown zero inclination to want that from him.

You seem less tense now, shoulders only a little tense as you watch him.

It's a start.

-------

Hyrule spends most of the morning hovering near you, right up until Four pulls him away to go gather more firewood for the slate. The fae wants so badly to fight but he knows he is being strange about you.

It's just-

Everyone has a capability for magic, even if the ability is technically so minute it's inconsequential. As a fae Hyrule is very good at magic and can sense magic in others.

When he was healing you yesterday... he felt your magic.

Your magic isn't anything particularly impressive. The magic you possess is enough to use potions and elemental rods but not enough to do a whole lot more.

There's nothing wrong with that, you have rather average magical thresholds so you aren't in danger of potion sickness.

The problem with your magic is that it is yet another almost identical trait you share with his honeybee. Your magic feels like home in ways he thought he could never feel again.

Hyrule has to be losing his mind.

"You need to get your head on right." Four says, interrupting the other man's spiral.

Hyrule looks over and swallows hard. "Right."

"What happened yesterday?" Four asks, eyes almost looking red for a second.

Hyrule takes a slow breath, readjusting the wood in his arms. "They got hurt yesterday... when I was healing them- their magic is- Why do they have to be so much like my honeybee?"

Four sighs. "I don't know."

"Is there any chance they're our (Y/n)?"

"I wouldn't get your hopes up." Four says firmly, eyes glinting blue for a moment.

Hyrule feels his face crumple. "I just-"

"I know." Four says, "We all know. But getting your hopes up is only going to hurt yourself worse."

"It already hurts."

Four takes a slow breath, pushing Blue's anger and Red's tears away. He understands both feelings and would love to give in to either, but he can't fall apart right now.

Right now, the blacksmith needs to keep it together against the grief beating in his heart and the splitting headache he can't escape.

"Hyrule, grief never goes away completely but you can drown in it. Our soulmate would hate to see you drown I it."

"Four..."

"You just have to hold on until we reach the next town."

Hyrule winces, "I don't know if I can."

"You have to." Four says with nothing but empathy. "We all have to."

"Just until the next town?"

"Just until then."

Hyrule sighs, swallowing hard. "Okay."

Four looks back the way they came, "We should head back."

"Who's supposed to be protecting them today?" Hyrule asks.

"I think that's Twilight and Wild."

"Okay." Hyrule says.

Four gives a weak smile, eyes almost looking green. "We're going to be okay."

"I know."

"Come on, we should hurry. Legend was being weird and I really don't want to deal with Wind trying to set the vet on fire with dirty looks." Four says as he turns to head back.

Hyrule gives a weak, performatory laugh. "Yeah... me neither."

The two make their way back to camp, silence filtering heavy in the air.

When they get back they nearly drop the woof in their arms.

You and Wind are sparring with the wooden swords again, except this time Legend is laughing when you trip over air but he offers you his hand silently.

Four is pretty sure something is weird. Legend went from so hostile you two didn't share any positive interactions to withdrawn, and now he's offering to help you up.

"Is that a changeling?" Hyrule whispers.

"I don't know."

"What did we miss?" Hyrule wonders.

Four just sighs, "Who knows."

They watch you take Legend's hand with a 'thanks'.

Hyrule sighs. "At least Wind dosen’t have to be pissy."

"Be nice." Four huffs, the tug of his lips gives him away, though.

Hyrule and Four take one last moment to remind themselves that this is just until the next town. They can pull through.

They have to.

--------

In the trees, a panther lounges, watching the group of heroes, but the animal's interest lies far more in the horse and the non-hero.

It's almost time for the large cat to introduce themself. The next town is soon, and the feline is tired of playing the long game.

By nightfall, the panther should finally be able to get to the non-hero.

Soon.

Soon, everything will be much better.

-------

Next - wip

Tag list: @danyzta @vrsin @silver-the-pendejo @tulip-does-stuff @justanotherweeb666 @yourlocaltreesimp @blueberrysungie @victoryssong23 @shu-leepy @sleepifonlyigoti @sour-patch-delight

[sweetdispatch]

Plane seat - V. Mancini

masterlist pairing: Victor Mancini x fem!reader summary: You and Victor met on the way to Vancouver and slowly fell in love with each other warning: none note: special thank you to the person who asked if i can write something for moose and to @hockeyboistrash who made a super cute blurb with him! they motivated me to sat down and finish something that was laying in my drafts❤️

It was unexpected information. Victor found out that he’s traded to Vancouver and has to arrive there the next day. He packed the most important things into his bag and went to the airport. He didn’t know how to feel. He was aware that trades were happening but deep down he hoped to stay in New York. Now, he was sitting on the plane on his way to Canada, far away from his family and friends. 

You wished that the break would never be over. You were studying in Vancouver but your family was living in New York. Now, you have to come back to the reality of studying and working. You felt nostalgic. First week when you were back in Canada you were always sad that you’re again by yourself. You sat on the plane and noticed a cute guy sitting next to you. You smiled softly to him and Victor smiled back. 

Victor didn’t want to be nosey but he noticed that you were writing in your journal about hockey. He thought you were pretty and he was scared to just start talking but this felt like a perfect change. 

“Hi, I’m Victor and I noticed that you are writing about hockey and…” He didn’t know what to say more and hoped that you’ll talk back to him. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m trying to get the information written in my journal so I have an easier task when I get back home to make an article” You explained to him. 

“So you’re a journalist” Victor said and you giggled.

“Not really. I’m working for a hockey team and there’s been a trade so I need to write an article about it on the page” You showed him your notes. 

“I see my name here, I guess we’ll be working together” Victor pointed on your page to show you.

“I guess we’ll be” You smiled at him. 

For the rest of the flight, you and Victor had been talking about everything and nothing. You two understood each other. You proposed to him that he can stay in your apartment so he doesn’t have to pay for the hotel. At first, he was sceptical about this idea but you convinced him by telling that you’re alone in Vancouver just like he’s gonna be.

When you stepped into your place, you showed him your guest bedroom that now was his room. Victor thanked you and just like that, you two became roommates. You were happy that he agreed to stay with you because most of the time you were stuck by yourself in these four walls and now, you had someone to talk with. 

After a week, it turned out that you and Victor won’t be working together. He was glad about it because he really liked you but he knew how strict the rules are about dating in the workplace. He was training and playing with Canucks while you were doing your part in Abbotsford. It was a perfect solution for you two because you weren’t spending 24/7 together. 

Slowly, the feelings between you and Victor were growing. There were small touches when you were sitting in the living room and watching something or during dinner. He got a habit of kissing your cheek every time he was leaving for a roadie. Many nights you two were laying in your bedroom and just talking about how the day went. It was all perfect. 

With each day together, you were craving more of him. You wanted Victor to be yours. Everyday you wanted to scream that you wanted to kiss his lips and call him your boyfriend but you never did it. You didn’t want to ruin your living together. You didn’t want him to be scared and run away from you. You needed him close no matter how much it hurts you that it’s only friendship. 

What you didn’t know was that Victor wanted you too. Since the moment he saw you on the plane, he wanted to know you better and better. At every occasion he was implying that he wants more than just a friendship. He was kissing your cheek but he wished it was your lips. He was laying late at night in your bed but he wished he could sleep there and hug you tight. But you never reacted, you were always smiling but he didn’t know if this is because you’re polite or because you also want him. 

One night, changed completely the dynamic between you and Victor. He asked you to go with him as a plus one to one of his teammate’s birthday party. Happily you agreed to go with him. You thought that this would be a perfect opportunity to get closer to him and show him that you want him. And you did it but not the way you expected. You got drunk at the party and pulled Victor into a kiss. He was shocked at first but he reciprocated the kiss. 

The next morning you woke up with a hangover and went to grab water from the fridge. You noticed Victor sitting in the kitchen and eating breakfast. 

“Good morning” You greeted him but he didn’t say anything back. That was weird because he wasn’t the smiley and cheerful person like he always is. “Something happened?” You asked him. 

“Do you have any feelings for me?” Victor asked you out of blue. 

“Yeah, you’re my friend” You took a sip from the bottle. 

“Nothing more?” Victor tried to push you to talk. “Because after this kiss, I think we’re more than friends” The realisation hit you. You kissed him and didn’t say a word back. 

“Okay, the truth is that I have feelings for you. I have had them for a long time and I really wanted to tell you this but I was scared. I wanted to tell you this yesterday but I got so drunk that I only kissed you” You told him and looked at him and noticed a smile on his lips. 

“Good because I have feelings for you too. I tried to show you this but I never knew if this is mutual for you too and after that kiss, I knew I had to be sure” Victor stood up and placed a hand on your cheek, gently caressing it. 

“Kiss me please” You whispered and Victor pulled you into a kiss. 

[ckret2]

Was re-reading your fic and a cheesy joke I heard in high school came back to haunt me when I got to the beach scene. Here it is:

"Why did the obtuse angle go to the beach?"

"It was over 90 degrees."

On an unrelated note, do you think Ford would ever use geometry jokes/puns?

Comedy gold. I've gotta find a way to work that into the fic.

I'm going to take this question unnecessarily seriously: for me, the core of any "would [character] use [subject matter]-based puns" is "would [character] use puns?" Because, the subject of the puns aside, the world is divided into Pun Lovers and Pun Haters.

My gut feeling says that he'd be a pun hater, given his known grammatical pedantry and the likelihood for puns to break grammar rules. But I never go with a gut feeling when I can go with canon evidence instead.

And I'm coming up blank, do we ever see Ford using puns? Like,, on purpose? There are plenty of creatures with punny names in the journal and such ("plaidypus"), but it's hard to tell whether Ford came up with them or adopted terms that the locals and/or research materials already used for the creatures. Princess Unattainabelle is clearly a pun, but again we don't know whether that was his creation or if she's a stock character pre-written into DD&MD lore, the way Probabilitor is.

Off the top of my head, I can only remember Ford making three jokes, all in TBOB: "the apple pie is made from scratch" / "I must meet the chef who made the atoms"; "can I call you slick?" / "you can call me anything except late for dinner"; and "I have missed you... but my aim is getting better!" Two of those jokes he learned from Bill & his dad. All three of them are based on wordplay, but not based on puns—instead it's taking the less-expected definition of words.

Unless someone else remembers other jokes he's made, I'd call that the most likely basis of his sense of humor.

So, he might not make geometry-based puns; but on the other hand if somebody said "I'm driving straight from Portland to San Francisco!" he might go "wouldn't it be easier to drive there on roads?"

[downbad4sylus]

Today’s Special: Sweet Evil Trap

synopsis: He’s been waiting for you but you don’t remember him.

content: sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; pre-relationship; angst but ends with fluff; mostly proofread

word count: ~2.5k

a/n: okay okay okay, i know it’s not the final part to the sylus v. caleb series!!! im sorry!!!! i’m working on it i swear!!! but reading elysium in world underneath broke me so i wrote this to make me feel better!!!!! i will literally die for my poor lover boy sylus!!!!!!!!!!!!! :’D

You’d been plagued by the same dream since you were a child. A dream you never remembered when you inevitably woke from it with tears streaming down your face. It always left you feeling hollow, like there was a piece of your soul missing, out there somewhere in the world pleading for you to come find it.

You’d hoped that, when you started finding yourself in Caleb’s arms after waking, the hollow ache would ease. But it didn’t.

Not when you grew older and stopped running to Caleb’s room for comfort.

Not when your life was flipped upside down after the explosion that claimed Gran and Caleb’s lives.

You had enough going on and still this dream haunted you and you so desperately wanted to uncover the mystery that had been plaguing you for as long as you could remember. You wanted to be rid of this constant ache in your chest.

Then one night, a name slipped past your lips as you woke. A name that changed everything.

Sylus.

—

You knew that name.

Why did you know that name?

You hadn’t been able to think straight since you woke up, your mind wading through the fog for answers. You’d take anything, any little thing to point you in the right direction.

But you had nothing. Just a name.

Your foot tapped impatiently as you retraced the five letters you’d written in a notebook.

S

Y

L

U

S

The paper was bending from how hard you pressed your pen down.

“Why are you angrily writing the leader of Onychinus’s name?”

Your head snapped up so fast you swore it almost broke. Tara stood behind you, looking over your shoulder with a raised brow.

“What did you say?” you demanded.

Tara’s head tilted, pointing at the notebook. “Did you find intel on Onychinus or something? Do you think they have anything to do with the explosion?”

Of course, how could you have been so stupid? How could you forget the very name echoing through your mind was synonymous with the infamous crime lord of the N109 Zone?

“I—uh—”

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. This was the perfect excuse to find answers. Track down the leader of Onychinus and figure out why you’d called out his name. What could a man you’d never met have anything to do with a dream you’d had since childhood?

“Yeah, actually,” you finally said to Tara. “I found a potential lead I’d like to look into. Do you think you could help me out?”

The explosion was far from your mind as Tara sat down and the two of you started looking into ways to infiltrate the N109 Zone.

—

The beat of wings roared in your ears as you flew through the sky.

You were in a panic, soaked in blood that wasn’t yours, clinging to the form holding you close to his chest.

The two of you almost crashed into the ground, surrounded by flowers from a dream within a dream.

His face flooded your vision, the face of your beloved, his striking red gaze filled only with the human love you’d taught him.

Your hands hovered uselessly over his chest, desperate to stop the bleeding that would claim his life but knowing there was nothing you could do.

Using what had to be the last of his strength, your dragon pushed up on his elbows and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before leaving you alone in this life.

Sobs wracking your body, overwhelmed with grief, you called out his name in agony.

—

“Sylus!”

You jolted upright in bed, hand pressed against your heaving chest, the dream already fading to the edges of your mind. You grasped at the last vestiges before it could disappear entirely but all you were left with was his name and that familiar, hollow ache.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t wait any longer. You needed answers.

You flew over to the closet, changing out of your pajamas into something slightly more appropriate, and headed out the door.

It was the middle of the night, but that didn’t stop you from hopping on your bike and riding straight for the N109 Zone.

—

When Sylus first took over the N109 Zone, when he made sure his name was infamous, he was confident you’d come to him. Of course, he wasn’t easily accessible, so he set up a permanent special—Sweet Evil Trap—on the intel menu at Elysium, a special only you could order.

Sylus had expected his phone to ring, for Aislinn the bartender to tell him you were there waiting for him, just as he was waiting for you.

Except his phone never rang, not for that at least. And the days turned into weeks, the weeks to months.

He had been watching you during that time through Mephisto, wondering what was keeping you from him. He worried he’d done something wrong and that was why you’d stayed away thus far.

That was why, when Sylus answered his phone that night, hearing Aislinn’s voice was the last thing he expected.

—

Elysium.

As the intel hub of the N109 Zone, it felt like the best place to start looking for Sylus.

It was crazy, thinking the leader of Onychinus could somehow fill in the missing pieces you’d been searching for your whole life. You were crazy, living in a delusion conjured by your own subconscious, and letting it lead you right into the viper’s nest wholly unprepared for what awaited you on the other side. You weren’t safe as a Hunter in the N109 Zone, and yet here you were anyway, bursting through the establishment’s doors and striding for the bar.

Chestnut curls blurred as the woman behind the counter turned toward you. Her eyes widened in both shock and recognition as you approached. She had a menu out and open before you even settled in the bar stool, pointing at the special listed on the last page.

Today’s Special: Sweet Evil Trap

Pepper walnut tart, rosemary gelato, pomegranate jelly, red wine marshmallow, and 10.5 grams of soul. (0)

Description:

I’m waiting for you.

Your brows knit as you looked from the menu to the woman. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m not sure I understand what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“You’re supposed to be ordering that,” the woman said.

“I…am?” you questioned. You scanned through the Special Services. “But it doesn’t list the service that comes with the special.”

Her lips curved upward. “This special was made with a certain lady in mind and is meant to be served with our sponsor as the side dish.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

I’m waiting for you.

“This is…for me?”

There was no way.

The woman nodded as though she was excited you’d come to the bar. As though she had been waiting too. “May I show you to a private room?”

The logical side of you was screaming at you to say no, to walk out the door and pretend this never happened. But your heart? Oh your heart was on its knees begging you to follow this woman.

You nodded slowly.

Her grin brightened.

She lifted a portion of the counter and joined you on the other side. “Please follow me.”

You slipped off the stool, anxiety roiling in your gut as you followed the woman to the secluded back of the bar. She pushed open a hidden door and gestured for you to step inside. For reasons unknown to you, your feet carried you through the threshold without a hint of hesitation.

The room held an air of elegance, as though every detail was carefully and meticulously curated. From the black leather couch along the west wall, to the sleek black coffee table in front of it, the blood red rug under the table’s feet, and dark mahogany floors beneath it. Artwork hung on the red and black brocade patterned walls, all different yet cohesive in the space.

An almost haunting melody played softly from the record player in the corner of the room. It sounded so familiar that you found yourself humming along, confident if you were to open your mouth the lyrics would roll effortlessly off your tongue.

You whirled to the woman. “What’s your name?”

“You can call me Aislinn,” she answered. “Please make yourself comfortable, you won’t have to wait for much longer.”

With one last smile, Aislinn closed the door.

Now alone in this strange hidden room, your thoughts started to spiral.

What were you thinking? You showed up to the intel hub in the N109 Zone during the dead of night because of a dream? What if this was a trap? What if Onychinus really was behind the explosion that claimed the lives of the only family you had? You’d basically offered yourself up on a silver platter to the very people responsible! You were actively looking for their leader! You didn’t even know who was “waiting” for you!

You didn’t dare entertain the thought that Sylus was the one waiting. That he too was plagued by the same dream you were, and it was your name on his lips when he woke. No, you really shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered as you paced in front of the couch, hitting your palm against your forehead. “What were you thinking?!”

Maybe you should just leave.

You could come back when you could think a little more clearly. Brainstorm a better game plan with Tara under the guise of gathering intel.

You warred with yourself for several minutes, never stopping your erratic pacing, then needed several more before you finally worked up the nerve to leave.

You rushed to the door, grateful to find there was indeed a knob on this side, something you should’ve checked before letting Aislinn leave. With a deep breath, you grabbed the knob and yanked the door open—

Only to collide face first with a warm wall of concrete.

Your head snapped up and you met a pair of striking red eyes.

Arms wrapped around you, holding you close while guiding you back into the room, the door snicking shut once more. Held in these arms, you’d never felt so safe before. An overwhelming feeling of home washed over you, and that hollow ache in your chest ebbed.

Your hands clenched into fists against his chest as his full lips kicked up into a soft smile.

You knew him. Had this face, his face, been in your dreams all these years? How could you forget such striking red eyes? Or that head of silvery hair?

But something about him seemed different, like something was…missing, though you couldn’t quite figure out what.

Sylus was staring right back at you, the ache in his own chest easing having you in his arms again. It was where you belonged, with him.

He was still in disbelief that you were really in front of him. You were as gorgeous as he remembered, but seeing you on a screen was nothing compared to beholding your beauty in person.

“Sylus?” you breathed, your voice no louder than a whisper.

He nodded. “In the flesh.”

“Have you been…waiting for me?”

“I have.”

“I—“ Your brows knit, a slight headache forming along your temple. “I know you, but we’ve never met before.”

Ah. That explained why you hadn’t come sooner. It should’ve hurt, knowing you didn’t fully remember him or your past life together, but it didn’t. In fact Sylus was relieved. You hadn’t been avoiding him. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I’ve been dreaming about you, I think,” you continued. “I called out your name.”

“I’ve been dreaming about you too, sweetie,” said Sylus, lifting a hand from your lower back to lightly grasp your chin. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Do you know me?” you asked.

“In a sense,” was his only reply. His thumb traced your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’d like to get to know you more, if that’s okay with you.”

You weren’t sure what came over you, but you launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck, holding him as if your life depended on it. Sylus’s arms were as steadfast as yours as they wrapped around you.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. Cherry sweet, like red wine. He’d never given up hope that you’d find your way back to him, but the wait had been excruciating. Having you in his arms again, in an entirely new lifetime, he felt whole. Two pieces of one soul finally coming together as one.

You drew back, grabbing his face. It almost hurt you how beautiful he was, with his striking eyes, strong nose, and sharp jaw. And those full lips…

“Tell me this isn’t a dream anymore,” you whispered.

Sylus’s gaze flicked down to your mouth before meeting your own. “This isn’t a dream, Y/N.”

The way he said your name—like he knew you, really knew you—it unraveled something buried deep within your soul.

You brought your mouth to his, needing to feel those lips on yours. Giving in to the magnetic pull you felt toward him.

Sylus responded in kind and claimed you with his kiss.

In that moment, you didn’t care that you barely knew this man because your soul knew him. You didn’t care that he was the leader of Onychinus. You didn’t care that you were a Hunter. All that mattered was being here, with him. You’d figure out how to make it work, you’d do anything to make it work with him.

A love lost in a different lifetime given a second chance. A love that followed both of you throughout this new life, so that one day you’d be brought together again.

Sylus had been waiting for you.

And you’d finally found him.

Bonus:

You tilted your head.

The mechanical crow mimicked you.

Your brow furrowed. The crow squawked.

“I thought you said this was a mechanical crow,” you said to Sylus who sat on the couch watching you.

“Mephisto is a mechanical crow, sweetie,” he drawled, amusement clear in his tone.

“Then why do I feel like he doesn’t like me.”

Sylus chuckled. “I think you’re imagining things.”

The crow squawked again, but this time it lurched forward, spreading its wings. You scrambled backward, falling into Sylus’s lap.

Mouth agape, you gave him a see-what-I-mean look.

Sylus could hardly contain his laughter. “He’s just playing.”

“He tried to assault me!” you exclaimed.

Mephisto squawked in protest.

“Don’t try to deny it!” you yelled at the bird.

“I’d offer to reprogram him to make him friendlier toward you, but I’m afraid this is far too amusing to witness,” Sylus said with a smirk. Just wait until you met the twins.

“Sylus! I don’t want to be antagonized by a bird!”

Yeah, Sylus thought as you began arguing with Mephisto again, the wait was worth it.

[aionishoh]

realized I haven't posted anything so take this:

Male!Yandere x former yandere! reader (Highschool setting)

originally written in a they/their, so im sorry if i missed a spot

There he were. Absolutely doing nothing but catching your attention. he blended in perfectly in the crowd but your mind made them the only thing you see. It was almost funny how you could miss such a thing.

It started with a simple pass by. You walking in a direction, and them walking in the opposite way. You didn't really pay attention to them and assumed it was a normal stranger. Completely unknown.

But it was when you saw him again. You realized how nice he looked. You began to notice his fashion sense. Shirt always a bit ruffled, bag swung lazily, hair clean but a little disheveled.

Then, on the third meeting. It was more of a fate. "Ah! You again. We have met, have we not?" He asked, looking at you with a sense of rememberance.

Did i mention you accidentally bumped into them during your second meeting? Hopefully i did.

"Ah! Uhm, yes. We did meet."

He introduced themselves, and you got welcomed into a side you didn't expect. Infatuation.

It turns out, he often frequented the places you went to. Along with sharing the same classroom. But, you went ahead and got a bit greedy.

"Hey, do you mind if i could borrow some notes?"

"Oh, sure."

You memorized his handwriting. Noticing how it was consistent and messy at the same time. The notes scattered but placed into relevant areas. You noted the way he wrote their o's and a's.

"Can i borrow a pen?"

"I don't really have the pens you use. But yeah, here."

You noted the way he held their pen. The way he looked when writing down. The way he magically made their handwriting look smooth with ease. You noted the pen he always uses.

Then, it started getting more personal.

A camera.

In a modern world, who would need cameras when its already built in with phones? But, you couldn't deny the thought made you giddy.

As days passed, you made a little home where you can devote yourself to him. A shrine.

All the pictures hung up were him. All in various locations, all unknowingly taken. You were fully convinced you should be in a mental asylum but a little memorabilia wouldn't hurt a person.

In the shrine itself, was a couple of few things that belonged to him. A few strands of hair, a toilet paper that was used to dry his hands. A handkerchief that he thought fell off a roof but was miraculously landed in your everyday spot.

It was perfect. All that needed was a candle to light up your world full of him.

You walked past the cafe where you had the same order as him, your bag behind you and filled with materials needed for a group project with him.

A couple of few steps, you arrived at his house.

"Oh hey, welcome to my humble abode."

"Very humbling indeed,"

You placed your bag down, sitting on the couch, admiring his home before getting reminded of her "excuse". "Ooh, sounds really bad but can i use your bathroom?"

"Yep, its just down the hall. Mind if i take the materials out of your bag?"

"Not at all!"

With much haste, you went to his room after three tries and one of them finding the actual bathroom. The room seemed to be his taste, which led you to knowing it was his in the first place.

With a hum, you quietly snooped around. Finding personal belongings, such as their watch, diary, wallets. But then you reached the closet.

A voice in your head said take a small piece of clothing, but you knew better. Although you were creepy, taking pictures and knowing things about him. You knew this was a line that you shouldn't cross.

You carefully returned the things back to the way they were before heading back to the living room.

"You sure took a while."

"Spent most of the time trying to find it."

While doing this simple project with him. You realized your actions was almost concerning. I mean sure, you looked like those creepy guys from Wattpad, but this was borderline concerning.

As soon as you two finished the project, you went to your once safe shrine and removed the pictures from the wall. Taking one last look at each one before tearing them up.

This was bad. And all because of a crush. You werent even aware that your infatuation turned into an obsession. An addiction.

You threw the keepsakes and gizmos into the trash. Removing every hint of your previous crush.

You mentally set a line. If you were gonna have a crush, it wouldn't have to end with you taking photos of them and praying to them like a God.

It would be normal. A normal crush where you admire them and where you confess to them during Valentines day.

This is the end for your obsessed self.

The next day was a bit of a awkward situation. Usually you were talking to him about random yaps, making sure you would be remembered but you didn't need to anymore.

"Heya Y/N, ready for the presentation?"

"Hm? Oh sure! I already got what i need to say memorized."

During these times, you would usually scooch much closer to him as possible without being too obvious. But now, you just did as you normally did.

The project got graded well, and that was your last interaction with him for now. Atleast thats what you thought.

As days bled into weeks, he noticed how you weren't as clingy anymore. He noticed how you would usually wait for him after school but now he's the one waiting.

Only for you to be walking with someone else on the way home.

He began to pay attention on how you didn't have that same glint in your eyes whenever you looked at him. His eyes noticing how you seemed more calmer near him instead of you fidgeting.

Soon, he heard wind from your friends that you found a new crush.

It wasn't that he didn't know you had a crush on him, oh, no. Absolutely not.

He knew you looked into his room during the group project day. He had a camera set up in the corner and watched you shovel through his stuff. Watching you open his closet and only to pause.

Why? He had perfectly set up everything that day. The way to the bathroom had an easier shortcut, but he led you to the longer way where you can find his room. He purposefully left the door unlocked and his belongings out.

He neatly placed his most favorite clothes out front where you could easily take them. But in the end, you didn't take anything. Even placing back where the items belonged.

He always pretended like he didn't see you scuttling around whenever hes out. He always made sure he looked good in every photos you tooked. He knew that he was your Sun and it inflated his ego.

But why the change of crush?

He noticed that you aren't that clingy with your crush. You didn't take strange photos anymore. You didnt take any stray hair than fell from their head.

You were disinterested in him.

Merely seeing him as a old crush, and one you quickly got over of so quickly.

After all these times of pretending to be dumb, you let him go?

After all this time he spent trying to remember the things you talked about to him?

Impossible.

The new guy didn't even look closely to him. In fact, he was the complete opposite of him.

He hated how you weren't there to be his number one fan. He despised the way you seemed more far away than usual. He hated how you would only give him a wave or a nod when you pass by him in hallways, and not running up to him with a cheeky smile.

Well, might as well buy a camera and some thumbtacks. He's gonna need it for his shrine.

Oh, did i mention hes more crazier than you?

[resldue]

the range on this guy is insane and none of it sounds fake either. i love how layered and nuanced he is- he has his darker, worse sides, but those are never presented in a villainized way per say imo. sometimes he straight up doesnt even consider if what he thinks is best for nene is what she even wants- but its clear he does it out of his own trauma and not because he actually doesnt respect her autonomy.

and in moments like in the page above its clear that he gives her that same love; he sees her flaws, accepts them and tries to encourage her to be better, even if hes a smug bastard about it sometimes. everyone, yashiro included, knows, if push comes to shove, this guy would kill for her, regardless of if shed like that or not, and i think that makes him insanely interesting.

this is prolly not the most coherent and best explaining thing i couldve ever written and i have more thoughs but its almost 3am and im eepy and going feral over hananene dont mind me LMFAO

I really like revisiting the earlier chapters after reading the newer ones because it helps give new perspective on the earlier interactions of these two.

The way how Hanako speaks to Yashiro, even from the beginning of their partnership, is so cute and sweet in a way I don't know how to explain. Sure, he's definitely still a jerk at times, but the general manner in which he interacts with her makes me smile like an idiot.

I like how he's not even angry or too upset with her, he's simply like, "Stop the cap. Just fess up and I'll help."

[aconitum009]

Noah's urethral birth

A/N: It's a mpreg birth story with long labor. As mentioned in the title, this is going to be a urethral/penis birth. Refrain from reading if you are not into it or it's too graphic for you. Characters, places, and stories are all imaginary.

word count: 4k+

Story:

In this realm, Kunki has great influence and is highly respected by society because of that. He is a cold and sharp man. He was roaming around the streets alone when he saw a guy being dragged out of the hospital and thrown on the streets by the guards. He was full-term pregnant. He just lowered his head, and sat leaning back in the alley. Kunki approaches him.

“What’s your name?” Kunki’s voice cold.

He noticed Kunki’s presence and stared with his glazed eye, covering his pregnant belly.

“..It’s Noah. Master…please, can you give me some money? I really need some.” He glances towards the hospital.

Kunki observes him up and down, "I'll give you money, if you come with me."

Noah hesitates, glancing nervously between his stern face and his swollen belly. "With all due respect, Master, I... I don't go with strangers." His voice trembles slightly, defensive hands cradling his midsection protectively.

"Are you rejecting me now?" Kunki ask. He’s voice ice cold.

Noah freezes, eyes wide. "No, no! I'm not rejecting you. I just... I don't sell my body, Master. I'm a man. I have pride. Plus," He swallows hard, lowering his voice, "I'm heavily pregnant”

"Who said I want your body? You look ready to pop. I'll deliver your baby, that's it," Kunki says blankly.

Noah stares at him, shock written all over his face. "You... You're serious?" He laughs softly, disbelieving.

"Are you coming with me? Or do you wanna pop in the middle of the street?" Kunki’s voice eerily cold.

Noah closes his eyes briefly, knowing he has no choice. "Fine. Anything's better than giving birth in an alley." He pushes up from his seat with some difficulty. "Lead the way, Master..”

Kunki takes a glance at his belly and starts moving.

Noah follows slowly, waddling slightly. His belly is so distended that it seems like the baby could spill out at any moment. He breathes heavily, hand resting on his lower back. "How far is it?”

"Keep walking.”

Noah follows obediently, but his breath grows more labored with each step. "You know, most people don't offer to help without wanting something in return." He pants slightly, wiping sweat from his brow. "What's your game, Sir?”

"I just want to witness your delivery" Kunki says blankly.

Noah stops abruptly, turning to face him with wide eyes. "You... You just want to watch me give birth? Like some kind of... medical curiosity?" He sounds both offended and confused. His hand instinctively moves to protect his belly. "You are really messed up.”

Kunki gives him a stern look, "How am I supposed to help you give birth if I'm not watching it?”

Noah scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to walk slowly beside him. "Right, because that makes perfect sense. You want a front-row seat to a pregnant man’s most vulnerable moment." His tone drips with sarcasm. "Tell me, does witnessing a birth get you off?”

Kunki ignores him and tells him to get inside. They reach his private space, a secluded place with no one around. There are large walls but no ceiling. They get inside, and Kunki locks the gate.

Noah enters slowly, wincing slightly. The baby presses heavily on his lower back. "Damn, this place is huge." He looks around, eyes widening when he sees the open ceiling. "No walls?"

"It’s my personal space. Nobody knows about it. You are the first guest" Kunki says as he unroll a soft mattress on the floor that one can lie or sit.

Noah watches carefully, his expression thoughtful. "You're not what I expected." He mutters softly. "Most would throw me on the ground and have their way. You... You spread out a mattress like you're preparing a bed.”

"Are you thinking of birthing on the floor then" Kunki says nonchalantly, his voice cold and calm.

Noah glances at the floor, then back to the mattress, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "Guess not." With a groan, he lowers himself onto the mattress, immediately looking more comfortable. "Happy now, Master? The pregnant man is properly situated for your viewing pleasure.”

Kunki looks at his gravid belly. His gaze unreadable, "It looks ready to pop.”

"It is. Too ready, really. The doctors refused to help when they found out I couldn't pay." He strokes his belly absently. "I'm actually surprised I'm still walking. Could go into labor any minute now." His voice shakes slightly, betraying his fear of what's to come.

"Hmm. I can see" Kunki goes to an almirah and rummages for something. "Take off your clothes.”

"W-What?" Noah stutters, eyes widening. "You can't be serious. I'm not going to give birth... Naked." He swallows hard, his heart racing. "Please, just let me keep my clothes on. It's cold.”

Kunki looks at him coldly, "It’s not cold. The sun is very bright in the sky. And you need to be naked to give birth. Be logical."

Noah hesitates, looking up at the bright sky visible through the open ceiling. "Fine," he mutters, his voice barely audible. He starts to undress slowly, wincing with each movement as his belly makes simple tasks more difficult. "Happy now?”

Kunki looks at him, his belly gravid, being full term. He looks at his puffy manhood. "Your type give birth through dick, right?”

"Yes," Noah hisses through gritted teeth as he looks down at his swollen belly hiding his manhood completely. "..It swells during pregnancy to accommodate the baby's head.”

“Hmm..”

Noah raises an eyebrow, his breath hitching slightly as he shifts on the mattress. "Then you know I can't just push it out like a female. It's going to be... messy." He looks down at his belly, his voice softening. "And painful.”

"Brace yourself if you know that much" Kunki says coldly as he starts preparing for other stuffs.

Noah watches him move around, preparing things he can't see from his position on the mattress. "You're really going to make me do this, aren't you? Give birth like an animal in the dirt." He swallows hard.

"This is the cleanest you could ever afford.”

Noah flinches at his cold words, his lower lip trembling slightly. "I suppose you're right," he murmurs, looking down at his naked, vulnerable body. "At least I won't be lying in my own filth when the contractions start." He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

"How are you feeling?” Kunki asks as he puts some towels nearby.

"My back hurts. My legs are swollen. And... and I feel pressure down there." Noah shifts uncomfortably, his hands instinctively moving to his belly as if to protect the baby inside. "The doctors said first labors are usually long and painful." His voice cracks slightly on the last word.

"It is.." Kunki starts making fire in a distance, to boil water.

Noah watches as he moves around, his eyes following Kunki’s every action. He shifts again, wincing at a sudden twinge in his belly.

As the fire grows and the water begins to heat, Noah's breathing starts to change. He inhales sharply through his nose, his chest rising and falling rapidly as a contraction hits him. "Aaahh..." He lets out a soft, pained cry, his fingers digging into his belly.

Kunki kneels in front of him, "How’s the condition?"

Noah doubles over, clutching his belly with both hands. "It hurts..." He gasps out, his face contorting in pain. "The baby's moving differently. I can feel it kicking harder, lower..." He trails off, another wave of pain hitting him.

"Hmm. It's starting. Bear with it”

He laughs bitterly, his eyes squeezing shut as another contraction comes. "Easy for you to say," He grits his teeth. "You're not the one with something the size of a watermelon trying to squeeze out of your dick." He hisses out a breath, his body going rigid with pain.

"Save your energy.” Kunki says coldly.

Noah’s inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling slowly through his mouth between contractions. As the minutes tick by, the pain becomes more intense, stealing his breath and making him feel lightheaded. "It's getting worse...”

Kunki put his hand over his pregnant belly.

Noah's belly is rock hard and taut under his touch, the muscles contracting powerfully. "Ahh, fuck! Don't touch me there!" He cries out, his hips bucking reflexively away from his hand. But then he collapses back onto the mattress, exhausted and sweating.

Kunki starts pressing around on his bump softly.

Noah lets out a strangled noise as he presses on his belly, the sensation overwhelmingly painful. He lays there panting, his eyes closed tightly.

Kunki press around on his belly to feel the baby’s position.

"Mmmph..." He whimpers softly as his hands move over his distended belly, feeling the movements of the baby beneath his skin. "It's moving around..." he manages to say between heavy breaths. "The doctor said it was engaged last week.”

"Hmm. It's head down, in good position.”

"Really?" Noah opens his eyes and looks at him for a moment before another contraction hits. "Fuck..." His voice breaks as the pain washes over him. "How do you know so much about..." He trails off, another contraction stealing his words.

"I just know." Kunki starts slapping softly the sides of his belly, around his baby, so the baby keeps in the straight position.

Noah lets out a startled yelp as his hand slaps his belly, the sudden movement causing the baby to shift slightly. But it seems to work, as the next contraction feels like the baby is pressing down more firmly against his cervix. "Ahh! That actually helped..." He pants, surprised.

"Hmm.." Kunki stops and heads toward the fire.

The pain is really getting intense now. "I feel like it's getting worse... Aaahh!" Another contraction hits, and Noah curls in on himself. "Ahhnnn..." he moans loudly, clutching at his swollen belly as the contraction peaks. "Fuck fuck fuck..." He pants rapidly, trying desperately to ride out the pain. Suddenly, he feels a strange, urgent pressure bearing down on his dick. "Wait, wait...”

Kunki was preparing towel and hot water, "What happened??”

"I... I think my water just broke..." Noah looks up at him with wide, panicked eyes as he feels a gush of warm fluid between his legs. "And... and something's pushing down there... like the baby is trying to come out already!" He starts to hyperventilate.

Kunki sees the water dripping. "Don't push yet. Let me see.”

"I-I'm not trying to push!" He exclaims, his voice shaking with fear and pain. "It just feels like everything is... moving on its own." He spreads his legs wider, looking down at his distended belly and the clear fluid pooling beneath him. "Hurry, please...”

"Take deep breaths" Kunki positions himself between his legs. "Your manhood has not expanded enough to fit the baby inside it. You have to hold.”

"How much does it need to expand?" Noah asks between deep breaths, only halfway listening as another contraction bears down on him. "God, it burns..." He spreads his legs even wider, giving Kunki a full view of his puffy manhood.

"Expand enough for the baby to drop inside it," Kunki says as he brings a hot towel and massages Noah’s manhood with it. Noah whimpers, feeling his dick starts to tingle and swell slightly under his touch.

"Relax, it's an automated process of birth. It will happen naturally. Give it time," Kunki says as he presses the hot towel over his manhood.

"Ngh... it feels like it's getting bigger..." Noah pants heavily, his manhood starting to engorge. Another contraction hits, and he cries out, feeling the throbbing in his groin synchronizing with the pressure in his belly. "Aahh! It's...”

"Keep breathing," Kunki says as he massages Noah’s lower abdomen.

Heavy panting mingles with painful moans as Noah feels his manhood swelling dramatically. The heat from the towel sends waves of tingling sensation straight to his core. "Ahhhnnn... It feels so weird... like everything's getting so sensitive..." He pants heavily, his manhood now throbbing and fully expanded. "Oh god... I can feel it... the baby is pressing...”

Kunki put away the hot towel from his manhood. "Relax and breath". He can feel Noah’s belly tighten under his hands.

"I'm trying... ngh... trying to breathe!" Noah moans, arching his back slightly as another powerful contraction hits. His fully expanded puffy manhood stands tall and proud, dripping cum, "The baby's dropping... I can feel its head...”

Kunki can see Noah’s groin and manhood’s upper side are getting fuller means the baby's head has reached there. "Keep breathing, it's happening.”

"Aaahh! It's burning so bad... my insides are stretching..." Noah pants heavily, gripping the sheets beneath him. "The head... it's really dropping... nnn..." His fully expanded manhood throbs visibly as the baby's head applies pressure to his perineum.

Kunki wets the towel in hot water and press it softly around his manhood. "I know. Let it happen naturally. Don't push it”

"Nhn... the heat is helping... but it's so painful..." Noah bites his lip, feeling the baby's head dropping into his dick. His manhood continues to leak cum. It’s now dripping onto his belly. "The head... it dropped... ahhhh...”

Kunki can see Noa’s manhood is getting puffier with the baby inside it. "Breath. Keep breathing. Let the baby drop completely inside your manhood first.”

"Fuck... it feels like there's a bowling ball in my manhood..." Noah tries to breathe through the intense pressure and strange sensation of having the baby's head inside his manhood. His fully expanded member continues to leak cum, becoming even larger and more engorged. Kunki keeps rubbing it softly with hot towel.

"Aaahh... that feels nice... but ..." He whimpers, his entire body trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure. His manhood is now at its maximum size, completely stuffed with the baby's head and upper body.

"Okay okay, try to hold. Hold for now. Your manhood is stuffed completely.” Kunki says calmly despite the tension.

"Mhm... God..." Noah leans back, trying to hold still despite the intense pressure. His fully engorged manhood is throbbing visibly with the baby safely inside. "It's so full... I can feel it moving around in there... nnnggh...”

Kunki touches the top of Noah’s manhood, the hole. It's puffy red but not fully dilate. "Okay, hold for now. Your hole is only 3 cm dilated. Keep breathing”

Noah manages to nod, taking deep breaths as instructed. His puffy, red hole twitches slightly around the baby's head, still not fully dilated. "Three centimeters? Isn't that... slow?" He pants, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming fullness in his manhood.

"it is. It's your first delivery. Obviously things will take time. Bear with it. It's going to be a while.”

Noah sighs, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "Right, of course. First time and all..." He takes another shuddering breath, his abs contracting involuntarily around the bulge of his stuffed manhood. "God, is it supposed to feel this full?

Kunki rubs his lower abdomen to relieve some pressure. Noah hisses in relief as he rub his lower abdomen. His manhood remains fully stuffed, the baby's head and upper body taking up all the space inside. His hole is still only 3 cm dilated, slowly stretching around the baby's head.

Kunki wets the towel in hot water again and puts it around his manhood. He keeps massaging his lower abdomen. "Keep breathing”

Noah leans into the comforting touch, breathing deeply as another wave of discomfort passes through him. The hot towel wrapped around his immensely swollen manhood brings some relief, but the baby's presence remains acutely felt. "Breathing... yeah..." He mutters, squirming slightly.

As the next wave of labor hits, Noah's entire body tenses up. His manhood throbs in sync with his distended belly as the muscles there tighten and relax rhythmically. He gasps, clutching at the sheets as he struggles to breathe through the intense sensation.

Kunki touches the head of his manhood, "4 cm. Still too far”

Through gritted teeth, Noah manages to glance down. Seeing the dilation progress to 4 centimeters only makes him whimper in frustration. "Too far... I know..." He pants, his body shaking with another contraction. "It's still so full...”

"Relax and keep breathing. How are you feeling?”

"Ugh... it's... it's intense," Noah manages to say between breaths. "Every contraction feels like the baby is trying to burst out of my manhood. It's so full and tight, and every time I feel a contraction, it’s like the baby is pushing harder against my insides.”

"Hmm. it's normal. Try not to push though. We don't want you to tear apart.”

Noah nods weakly, gripping the sheets tighter as another contraction ripples through him. "Right, right... no pushing." He bites his lip, trying desperately not to bear down despite the urge. "God, if I didn't know better, I'd think my manhood might explode...”

Kunki takes another towel to clean up around Noah. Noah watches him move around, appreciative of his care. The hot water on his manhood feels heavenly amidst the intense pressure and pain. As another contraction hits, he unwittingly lets out a long, low moan. "The baby's moving more... I can feel it kicking inside...” Noah shifts uncomfortably, trying to find a position that alleviates some of the pressure from his enormously swollen manhood. Each tiny movement sends jolts of sensation through him, the baby's vigorous kicks adding to the overwhelming stimulation. "When will it dilate more?”

Kunki puts his fingers inside his manhood's hole. "Six. There's progress. Give it more time.”

Noah gasps as he feels his fingers slip inside his dilated hole, the sudden intrusion making his entire body clench. His manhood throbs around Kunki’s fingers, the walls spasming as another contraction washes over him. "Six... that's... that's a lot, right?”

"Right. But it needs more" Kunki massages his lower abdomen. Noah lets out a shaky breath, his whole body going limp with exhaustion against the bed. "More... I'm so full already..." His manhood aches and pulses with each contraction, the baby's head creating intense pressure against his entrance. "How much bigger does it need to be?”

"Almost 10 cm. It will happen soon. Keep breathing," Kunki brings some water to him. Noah gulps down the water gratefully, his dry throat burning. As he swallows, another contraction hits, and he has to pause, panting through the intense pressure building inside him. "10 cm... That sounds huge... Will it hurt more when it's that big?”

"We have to see." Kunki put away the glass and goes back between his legs, "Seven.”

Noah’s eyes widen as Kunki announces the dilation, his body instinctively trying to push despite his earlier warning. He grips the sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white. "Seven... that's almost there..." He lets out a whimper as another contraction hits, his manhood throbbing violently.

"Do not push. Breath through it.”

Noah inhales sharply, trying to follow his instructions as another powerful contraction wracks his body. He can feel the baby's head pressing against his stretched hole, the pain becoming unbearable. He pants, his body trembling. "It's too much...”

Kunki puts a hot towel above Noah’s lower abdomen. And with another, he rubs his manhood. Noah moans softly at the sensation of the hot towel on his lower abdomen and the gentle rubbing of his swollen manhood. The warmth helps to ease some of the tension, but the contractions continue to intensify. "Ahh... that feels... a little better," he admits between ragged breaths. He looks down at his manhood, watching as it pulses and throbs with each contraction. The sight is both mesmerizing and terrifying. "I can feel the baby's head... it's right there..." He lets out a low groan, his body shaking with the effort to not push.

"Yeah, it is.”

Noah nods, his breath coming in short gasps. The contractions are now almost continuous, and he can feel the baby's head pressing firmly against his entrance. Kunki mops some of his sweat from his neck and forehead, "You will soon be fully dilated. Try to relax.”

Noah leans into his touch, finding a small measure of comfort in the cool cloth against his heated skin. His body trembles with the effort to relax, but the relentless contractions make it nearly impossible. "Relax... right..." He lets out a shaky laugh, his voice strained.

As Kunki positions himself between his legs again, Noah's breath catches in his throat. He spreads his thighs wider instinctively, giving him a better view of his stretched and throbbing opening. "Ah..." He bites his lip, trying to stay still despite the intense urge to push.

"Try to relax. It's too tense.”

Noah takes a deep breath and forces his muscles to relax as much as possible, though every fiber of his being wants to push the baby out. "I'm trying... it's just... He whimpers as another contraction hits, making his opening twitch and contract rhythmically. His eyes widen as he feels the constant pressure and pain of the contractions. He can no longer tell where one ends and another begins. "They're... they're non-stop... ahh!" He arches his back, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. His face contorts with pain as he bears down involuntarily, his body pushing against the baby's head despite his attempts to hold back. "I-I can't... I can't stop pushing..." He looks at Kunki with panic-stricken eyes, his voice breaking. "It hurts so much...”

Kunki’s hand above Noah’s manhood hole. "Relax, relax Noah.”

Noah feels his hand hovering above his throbbing opening, and it sends a shiver down his spine. He tries desperately to relax his muscles, but the overwhelming urge to push is too strong. "I-I'm trying... ahh!" His body convulses with another powerful contraction. He grunts softly as the contractions milk his swollen manhood, pre-ejaculate leaking out of the tip. His body is covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hair damp and stuck to his forehead. He whimpers softly, his lower abdomen hard and taut. He takes shallow breaths. His body is shaking with the effort to relax his muscles. "I-I'm trying... but it feels like my body wants to push so badly..." He looks down at his distended belly, watching it contract rhythmically. His eyes widen as he feels a particularly strong contraction. "Ahhh... I can feel the head... it's right there, right at the entrance..." He lets out a low moan, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. "I can't... I can't keep from pushing much longer...”

Kunki inserts two fingers inside his manhood's hole. "Okay, Okay, it's 10 cm". Kunki pulls out the fingers and put away the towels from his lower abdomen and manhood. "I want you to push with next contractions, but not so hard.”

Noah lets out a relieved cry as he hears the words "10 cm." His body, which had been fighting against the urge to push, now has permission to do what it desperately needs. He nods vigorously, his breath coming in short gasps. "Okay... okay... I can push...”

Kunki rubs around his puffy hole and expanded manhood. Noah gasps as he feels his fingers rubbing around his sensitive hole and manhood. The touch is a little too intense for him, his voice cracks as he tries to push gently with the next contraction, his face contorting with the effort. "Aah... it's coming... the head is crowning...”

"Yes. Push!”

With a choked moan, Noah bears down, pushing with all his strength while trying to keep it controlled as instructed. His hole stretches obscenely around the baby's head as it begins to crown. "Oh god... it's... ahh!... it's really coming out!” He throws his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream as the baby's head slowly emerges from his manhood's hole. The stretching and burning is unlike anything he's ever felt, his muscles quivering with the effort. He pants heavily, his body covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Push Noah. Keep pushing!”

"I-I'm trying!" Another powerful contraction hits, and with a guttural moan, Noah bears down again. The baby's head finally pops out completely, stretching his opening painfully wide. He immediately feels lighter, but the relief is temporary as another urge hits him. "Oh god...”

"The head is fully out! Take breaths. Take a break and relax.”

Noah collapses back against the mattress, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Tears stream down his face as he stares down at the baby's head protruding from his manhood's hole. He feels exhausted but relieved that the hardest part is over. "It's... it's out...”

Kunki’s hand cupping the baby head to guide it safely. "Breath, breath.”

Noah nods, focusing on his breathing as instructed. His body trembles with exertion and relief, but he knows the process isn't over yet. He takes deep breaths, trying to relax his muscles even as another contraction begins to build. As the next contraction hits, Noah lets out a loud moan. He pushes again, his body shaking with the effort. The baby's shoulders start to emerge, stretching him even wider. Tears of pain and relief mix on his face as he feels.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Keep pushing.”

Noah bites his lip, pushing with all his might as the baby's shoulders fully emerge. He feels like he's being ripped in half, but the knowledge that the baby is almost out keeps him going. "Almost... almost there...”

"Yeah almost there. Keep pushing Noah." Kunki’s hand is guiding the baby out.

With a choked cry, Noah pushes with everything he has left. His body convulses as the baby's hips and legs slide out in one final, agonizing push. As the infant emerges completely, Noah collapses back, his body limp with exhaustion.

"It's out! It's out" Kunki holds the baby in his hands.

Tears of joy and relief flood Noah’s eyes as he hears those words. He looks down, his body shaking with the aftermath of the intense labor. He reaches out a trembling hand to touch his baby.