#if only in a perfect world that isn't this one

[hochsleep]

Relationship with Daryl Dixon (headcanons)

This is my first experience writing headcanons, but I have a lot to say! And yes, I used a gif from Beth, but we don't support that pairing here, guys.....

Also, thanks to the author of the gif!

Pronouns: she/her (fem!reader) / (I'll do headcanons for Daryl's relationship for gender-neutral readers later on)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/fem!reader (Y/N)

Warnings: no, not this time. Everything is decent (underage readers can read)

• Daryl Dixon is far from stupid. I mean, he can certainly tell the difference between romantic interest and friendly sympathy. He has Carol, his best friend, and he knows that he feels for her the kind of platonic friendly love he usually feels for a family member. But that's not the case with you. Sure, you've most likely known Daryl for a long time (assuming you joined Rick's group at any point from Atlanta to Prison, can pick at your discretion). So since you've known each other for a while, Daryl has had time to realize that his feelings for you are far from friendly. All the tenderness and care that he feels for you hardly compares to friendship. Daryl definitely didn't feel like kissing Carol's lips every time she came into his field of vision. That's the difference.

• But realizing your feelings is only halfway there. Daryl isn't the type to make the first move and declare his love. He's a very insecure person because of his past, so it would be hard for him to believe that someone like you would want someone like him. Daryl will just watch over you from the sidelines, he will make sure you are safe and will always be there to protect you. Even if it's just a harmless fall down the stairs when you were arranging jars of canned fruit on the top shelf in the Alexandria pantry. He will notice that the stepladder beneath you is wobbling dangerously and will be there to catch you and prevent you from bruising any part of your body. He will take great care of you.

• Daryl is probably the type of man who idolizes and admires the girl he's in love with. Both her character and inner world, as well as her looks. He would spend hours just looking at your unconditionally beautiful face. Every mole, every freckle, every wrinkle in the corner of your eyes when you smile. God, he could never get enough. Every part of you is perfect. Daryl's not sure he's ever seen a more beautiful woman. I mean, he probably had a soft spot for women he personally thought were pretty in the past, but it was never more than a glance in their direction. Just trying to say that Daryl isn't a pristine and innocent man who never thought about women. Over the many years of his maybe not the most prosperous life, Daryl has definitely had his fair share of beautiful women. But it had always been respectful. Mental admiration from the sidelines. Daryl never "barked" or "bit" like Merle. Daryl is much more respectful of women.

• That's why he likes to watch from the sidelines and think about you. A lot of thinking. Daryl is indeed a man of few words, but he has more than enough to think about. And when he falls in love, you become the center. Except when Daryl has to think about survival or when he and Rick are making a plan of action to save the group. But rest assured, all of Daryl's free time is spent thinking about you. He's very observant and remembers every little thing about you so he can think about it later. Do you like to read? Daryl will listen to you talk about your favorite books and find them during one of your outings, rest assured. Do you like wildflowers? Great, a bouquet of a hundred of them will be waiting for you on the doorstep of your Alexandria home when you come home after a hard day's work. Maybe you like a certain kind of clothing? Like something knit? Daryl will either find it during the outing or ask Carol to help with it when she's not busy. He won't say who it's for, but Carol certainly knows. And after you get those little gifts, Daryl will watch you smile widely because you know who left them under your door. And Daryl will think about your smile until he falls asleep at night. But he'll only dream about you, too.

• Somehow you were the first to admit your feelings because Daryl is actually cowardly about these things. A man can take on walkers or hostile people with his bare hands (like the Saviors), but he definitely can't just go and tell someone he really likes how he feels. No, you have to push him. And hints aren't enough, you have to say it outright. And then probably prove the sincerity of your words of love for the rest of your life, because Daryl Dixon is a very insecure man. He knows in his brain that you really do love him and will be faithful to him, but those childhood traumas are really getting in the way of his life. Be prepared for that.

• Your relationship with Daryl will gain momentum gradually. I don't think Daryl really likes all these formalities and labels like "girlfriend" and "boyfriend". You're just his and he's just yours. There's no need to complicate it all, the world of the zombie apocalypse is already very complicated. But if you care about dates and formalities, surely Daryl can learn to take it seriously. Not right away, but he will. Just give him time and he'll lay the whole world at your feet. And he'll start marking your anniversary with a marker on his calendar so that he definitely won't miss this important day for you (he won't admit it, but for him too). Daryl will be learning and you'll have to be a good mentor in this relationship for the first few years. It will be worth it, trust me.

• Daryl Dixon gets attached to people easily. He's like a big loyal dog. I mean, have you seen how loyal he is to Rick and Carol? He bites at first, doesn't want to let anyone in, but eventually he gives in and lets you take his heart and soul under his protection. Take care of that. My point is that this is the same way love works in Daryl's case. I'm pretty sure Daryl doesn't believe in the concept of love at first sight and stuff, he rather believes that love only comes about through the process of a relationship. So at first he thinks you are just a pretty woman. Then a friend. Then a good friend. And yes, he may feel sympathy, affection and probably crush at this time, but not love. No, he falls in love with you gradually. It's a slow process, but in Daryl's case it will be forever. He's definitely a one-woman man. And when he allows himself to really love you and not just be a little bit in love, when his heart completely belongs to you and he finally says "I love you" with all seriousness and responsibility, rest assured that this is love. This man will show you what true love is. Safe, sincere, and endlessly committed. Just give him time. Let him love you.

• The following headcanon (though I think it's unqualified canon) about Daryl's loyalty follows from this. You may try to be jealous of him or think he'll fall in love with someone else (it all depends on your confidence), but Daryl will prove time and time again that he's only loyal to you. This man is serious about his and your feelings and your relationship. Therefore, he will not give not a single reason for jealousy. But there could be quite a few women around (and men probably too) who might like Daryl. He doesn't care, he will never look at anyone else. Why would he do that when he has you? You're perfect for him and his heart doesn't belong to him anymore. So if Daryl notices your jealousy and insecurity, he'll spend all his time trying to prove to you that you're the one for him. He's deeply committed. To Rick, to Carol, to Maggie, to Alexandria. He's eternally devoted to you.

• The relationship with Daryl will be full of complexities, let's not turn a blind eye to that. He's a complicated man with a lot of trauma behind him. The situation is more acute if you're a complicated person, too. There's a lot to put up with. Probably a lot of fighting at the beginning of the relationship, especially if we're talking about Daryl from the first seasons of the show. But if you're both willing to work on that relationship, it will work well. Again, not right away, but it will. Daryl is sure that his love for you will be enough for both of you and certainly for solving all your problems in this relationship. He will try his best for you and you will try your best for him too.

• Physical intimacy is probably going to be difficult. Daryl's not a fan of close physical contact, especially with someone he can't call his family. You know, the boy had a shitty childhood. But he feels the need to feel the warmth of your skin on his skin. So he may unknowingly touch you before your relationship even begins. It could just be a "casual" hand collision when you both reached for the same item on the shelf. Or he may lightly touch your shoulder when he needs to get your attention and say something to you. You shouldn't pressure him with this and force a hug or anything like that. He will definitely come to it on his own when he's comfortable and he sees that you're okay with it. As your relationship progresses, he will open up to new types of physical contact more quickly. Sure he'll hug you a lot, try to hold your hand in his, but it's all in private. And of course kissing. I think Daryl actually likes kissing, but he's not very good at it for lack of much experience. Teach him how to kiss well if you have enough experience yourself. He'll be a good student. Especially when it comes to lessons involving his lips on yours. I'm pretty sure Daryl will become very clingy as your relationship progresses. When you're alone together, he won't be able to feel comfortable unless his arms are around you in one way or another. He physically needs to hold you, to bump his nose into your neck and hair to smell your scent, which he loves so much. And of course kissing. Gentle kisses or passionate French kisses, he loves it all.

• Daryl definitely doesn't like the display of attachment on the publick. He considers it yours and his alone. Something private that needs to be kept out of the public eye. Well, he's also pissed off by those ambiguous looks Carol and Rick give him after you call him "baby" or "cutie" in public. But Daryl is willing to hold your hands and will even let you kiss him on the cheek in public if he's in a good mood. He'll save the rest for the two of you alone in your sweet home in Alexandria.

• As for intimacy, everything is ambiguous here. I think for Daryl it is not at all a mandatory aspect of the relationship. If you are asexual, he will have absolutely no problem with this. You are more than enough. The opportunity to see you smile, hug you and make you happy is all he needs. Sex is not necessary and Daryl can definitely live without it if you are not interested in sexual relations. But if you are not against it, then he will be happy to please you. I mean, he does it every day just by existing and loving you, but if he can please you in a sexual sense, he will be happy to do so. But again, not right away. You both will go to this gradually. Trial and error. Only when he completely opens up to you and is not ashamed of his scars, knowing that you love them completely and completely because they are a part of him. But most importantly, when you yourself tell him that you are also ready, then you can act. Daryl has some experience. Merle ordered Daryl... a prostitute for his twenty-first birthday and Daryl had to do it. I think he was the one feeling like a prostitute, not the woman. And maybe he's slept with random women from a bar a couple of times after drinking too much. But it was never anything special and not out of great desire. With you, it's different. Sex with you is his way of showing you love in a new way. Either way, he knows how it works, but you still need to guide him. Show him how you like it and help him the first few times. Daryl is a quick learner, especially if you help him. So pretty soon he'll memorize all the right places and positions to make you feel good as hell, nothing less. Daryl will make sure that you feel good first.

• Your comfort is Daryl's absolute priority. Over the years, he will learn to compromise and give in when necessary. Daryl loves you unconditionally and is ready to be on his knees in front of you, this is what you have done to him with your love and tenderness. Daryl Dixon has become soft and fluffy around you. Just for you. Merle would call him a pansy and laugh, but Daryl doesn't care. Not anymore. You're all he cares about.

• You're his safe place. His home. His heart and soul belong to you, take care of it. And then Daryl Dixon will move mountains for you, you bet he will.

~ A cute little headcanon as a bonus: I honestly think the soundtrack of the relationship with Daryl, is the song: The Goo Goo Dolls - Iris.

[twinklecupcake]

Azula is the Avatar.

Nobody is more trilled than Ozai.

The most powerful bender in the world, and they've been born into his family, as a firebender. It's a sign, he knows. Azula trains. Azula becomes his weapon.

The rest of the world doesn't stand a chance.

--

Azula is the Avatar.

The tiny toddler waves her hand and pulls a ribbon of water from the turtleduck pond, laughing to her brother to look at what she can do.

Zuko tries his best, but can't do the same.

Iroh watches and breaks into a cold sweat.

---

Azula is the Avatar.

Her mother takes her away with her, and won't turn back or tell Azula why, even when she pleads.

--

Azula is the Avatar. Iroh tells her that her bending is impressive, but she must never show her father. She must never show anyone.

Azula doesn't understand. Isn't this just a sign of how powerful she is?

She shows off her bending in front of her father.

Any amusements she'd been permitted before are immediately taken from her, and her life is a rigid regiment of training. She doesn't see the rest of her family again. She trains hard, becoming her father's weapon.

He's all she has, she must make him proud.

--

Azula is the Avatar, and she shows off her bending in front of her father. The next morning, the princess has been killed.

---

Azula is the Avatar, and something about the graveness in Iroh's voice, the way her mother holds herself, convinces her not to bend earth again. Never to show anyone else what she can do.

She, Zuko, Iroh, and Ursa share the secret between them.

Zuko is exiled and told only finding the Avatar will restore his honor.

For an instant, Azula's heart skips.

But Zuko leaves, knowing full well the Avatar is in the palace.

Alone in the palace with Ozai.

--

Azula is the Avatar.

She trains in secret, bitterly thinking that if she has the power and the ability, there's no way anyone is telling her she can't keep bending anything but fire.

She lives two lives: the perfect Fire Nation Princess with her father, and disguised girl in the city who bends earth and water with the precision of a master.

One day she lets her friends - Mai and Ty Lee - in on her secret. She can trust them not to leave.

Another day, she casually bends the wall open. "Ready to blow this pop stand?" she asks.

--

One day she lets her friends Mai and Ty Lee in on her secret.

She can't trust them not to leave, so she tells them of her power, so they'll know they have to stay with her.

--

Azula is the Avatar, and she stows away on Zuko's ship. By the time she shows herself, it's too late to turn back, and her older brother helps cut her hair to hide herself.

--

Azula is the Avatar, and she trains and bides her time until her father sends her off on a ship of her own.

She brings Mai and Ty Lee, and a small, carefully-chosen group of soldiers and attendants.

Instead of heeding her father's orders, she goes the opposite direction.

--

Instead of heeding her father's orders, she fakes a shipwreck. The three girls go into the Earth Kingdom in disguise.

--

Azula is the Avatar, and after years of being her father's weapon, she turns against him. Ozai is battered by fire, earth, and water together, and Azula takes his throne for her own.

"You should have feared me more."

--

Azula is the Avatar, and she returns to the Fire Nation with all four elements at her hands. She looks Ozai dead in the eyes, wanting him to know exactly who she is.

"You should have feared me more."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

You and me makes three

(or four, or five ...)

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 4

Prompts: Breeding Kink & Vibrator

Rated: E

Words: 1,359

Tags: Omegaverse; A/B/O dynamics; Alpha Steve; Omega Eddie; Mates; Mpreg; Pregnancy Kink; Breeding Kink; Vibrators; Knotting; Possessive Steve; Jealous Steve

Notes: Set in the same universe as Whatever you want it to be

“Steve. Stevie, c’mon. Wake up, please.”  

Steve shoots upright with a sound that's half snore and half growl, bleary eyes scanning the bedroom for threats. Then, his nostrils flare and the feral snarl gives way to a disbelieving frown. 

“What, seriously?” he asks. “Again?” 

Eddie shrugs. The movement makes more slick ooze from between his legs. Maybe he'd be embarrassed about it, if Steve's pupils didn't blow up like that, or if his scent didn't spike like it does. Or if he wasn't feeling this desperately, mind-numbingly horny.

“Sorry?” he says. “I'd take care of it myself, but it's getting kinda hard to reach, what with your kid in the way.” 

Being pregnant is fucking bizarre.

Eddie has tried to approach it with an open mind, once the initial shock wore off and Steve assured him he wasn't going anywhere. But now, six months in? The whole thing just continues to weird him out.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves Steve. He’s the most perfect alpha and mate Eddie could've asked for. He’s going to make an amazing father to this kid. Which Eddie is sure will be adorable. He just sort of wishes he could skip the part where he needs to grow it in his own belly, being forced to put up with another hormone-induced ridiculousness every other week.

Hell, he thought the morning sickness was bad. Or the mood swings. Or the inexplicable cravings for salt and vinegar potato chips at three in the morning. But this most recent thing is well and truly taking the cake. 

Steve yawns and grumbles, and Eddie can't say he blames him. The kid isn't even born yet and here he goes, robbing them both of their much needed sleep because his body has decided they need to get it on at least two times a day or perish. It’s fucking stupid! 

Still, Steve folds back the covers, pulls open the nightstand drawer, and slips closer. Eddie sighs in relief when his mate's naked body slots into his from behind, already hard and pressing against his entrance, right where he needs it. Only a second later, the warm, solid weight of Steve’s cock is joined by something else, something smoother and colder, and the sigh turns into a low moan. Steve laughs softly and kisses his naked shoulder as the dildo hums to life.

What did he say? Best goddamn alpha in the world. 

“This is so weird,” Steve murmurs as he pushes in, the combined girth of his cock and the toy stretching Eddie wide open, his free arm wrapping around the soft swell of Eddie’s belly to pull him close. “This was in none of the pregnancy books.” 

“I know, ri-?” Eddie starts to say, but needs to stop himself for the chirp that bubbles from his chest. He feels deliciously full, the low vibrations of the toy sending shivers all the way down his spine, making little fireworks sizzle low in his abdomen. “Right? Seriously, what the fuck? You’ve knocked me up already, not like you can put ano- … another one in there.” 

Steve, who has just started rolling his hips in lazy circles, goes very still. For a few seconds, the only sound in the bedroom is that of the dildo still humming away.

“What?” Eddie asks when he still hasn't moved after a while. “Steve, I swear to God, if you've fallen asleep with your dick inside of me I'll-” 

“No,” Steve blurts. “I'm awake. It's just …” 

He pauses to clear his throat and fidget, and that is when Eddie catches the change in his scent. Earthy and heady and distinctly aroused.  

“Oh God,” he groans. “Don't tell me that does it for you!” 

“What?” Steve mutters, and Eddie doesn't need to see his blush to know it's there. “You gotta admit, the thought is kinda hot.” 

His hand finds Eddie’s belly, splaying over the round shape of it, and Eddie’s own cock twitches treacherously.

“Shut up, it's not,” he says, even as the familiar feeling pools at the base of his spine, hot and tight and urgent. Steve chuckles, pressing his face into the crook of his neck and scraping his teeth over the mating bite there. 

“Your scent says otherwise, baby,” he murmurs, and Eddie can feel his smile against his skin as another chirp escapes him. “Just imagine … me stuffing you with my cock? Filling you up with my come, knotting you so good that not a single drop escapes? Breeding you round and full with my pups? I wonder how many I could put into you.” 

“Oh God,” Eddie groans, baring his neck for better access and rocking his hips back as Steve finally, finally starts moving his cock and the toy inside of him again. “You're such a weirdo.” 

Steve laughs, picking up speed. “Takes one to know one. Maybe that's the reason you can't get enough lately. Why no matter what I do, you never seem to be full enough. Why I need to use this thing…” 

He pauses to push the toy in further, hitting that spot deep inside that sends sparks of pleasure zapping all the way into Eddie’s fingertips and toes. 

“... to get you anywhere near satisfied for a few hours.” 

“Aw, don't tell me you're jealous,” Eddie says. He tries to sound teasing but it comes out a lot weaker than intended. It's difficult, being smart while Steve is taking him apart in all the best ways. “You know there's no need to, right? Not with your baby in my belly and your mark on my neck. I'm all yours and nobody else's, alpha.” 

Steve growls at the word, his summer forest scent filling the room like a tangible thing, and that is all the warning Eddie gets before the toy is pulled out and he finds himself flipped on his back, Steve's cock still inside of him, Steve’s lips claiming his for a hungry kiss.

“Nobody else’s,” Steve repeats. The bed frame creaks under the power of his thrusts as he fucks Eddie into the mattress. “All mine, forever and ever and ever.” 

Eddie can’t say he minds the thought one single bit. 

*

“You’re so beautiful like this, have I told you?” 

Dawn is starting to creep through the blinds of the bedroom window, but Steve keeps running reverent hands over Eddie’s belly, eyes full of awe, and Eddie preens under the attention. 

“Don’t mind if you tell me again, big boy.” 

Steve purrs, pushing back Eddie’s sweaty fringe so that he can kiss his forehead and the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely breathtaking. My mate, carrying my child. I’m gonna put so many in you.” 

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Eddie yawns, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back as well as he can. The movement makes Steve’s knot, still large and locked inside of him, catch deliciously. “Can we just try to make it one after the other? I like actually walking places instead of rolling. Call me old-fashioned, but it’s an ability I’m rather attached to.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Steve gives him a smug grin and rolls his hips. “There's another thing you're attached to right now, and that's my-.” 

Eddie slaps a hand in front of his mouth. “Ugh, you're such a dork. I hope the kid doesn't inherit your sense of humor.” 

Steve kisses his open palm. 

“I hope they inherit your everything,” he says, ridiculously earnest, and Eddie needs to bury his face in the sheets to hide the way his face ignites. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles at the pillows, ignoring how Steve’s chest quivers with barely concealed laughter. “Let's go back to sleep. Have you looked at the time?” 

“Says the one who woke me because he needed to get dicked,” Steve grumbles, but obediently pulls the covers over them, curling himself around Eddie. 

Silence descends over the bedroom, and Eddie loses himself in Steve’s soothing scent as he slowly begins to drift off again. 

“Don't listen to him,” he hears Steve whisper, just before sleep claims him. “I'm hilarious and he knows it.” 

A warm hand settles on his belly. 

“Sleep well. Can't wait to meet you.” 

More smutty September

[f14fun]

lay all your love on me - op81 (C1)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (6.0K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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01: The Thermodynamics of My Hot Mess

I wasn't jealous before we met. Now every woman I see is a potential threat. The once timid, tame, collegiate girl I was before I met you has turned me possessive, it isn't nice.

And it’s all your fault, Oscar Piastri. You’ve taken the calm, rational part of me and set it on fire, leaving nothing but the green-eyed monster in its place. Oscar Piastri, you have turned me into a jealous mess, filled with envy and desperation I never thought possible. It’s like you’ve invaded every corner of my mind, making me obsess over the thought of you, the idea that someone else might take you away from me.

Even in my wildest, most fantasmic dreams, I would never have predicted that a spontaneous trip to Santorini, Greece, would spark the greatest lustful romance of my life. It was supposed to be a simple escape, a break from the pressures of college life. But the moment I laid eyes on you, everything changed. The calm, composed person I used to be unraveled with every stolen glance, every accidental touch, every moment we spent together under the Mediterranean sun.

But here I am, in a whirlwind romance that’s as exhilarating as terrifying, driven by emotions I didn’t even know I had. And the craziest part? I wouldn’t trade it for anything. This chaotic, intense passion has awakened something in me that I can’t ignore, something that makes me feel more alive than I ever have before.

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Three weeks ago, I was drooling on page one hundred thirty-eight of my physics textbook on thermodynamics, barely awake and running on fumes. I was practically strung out on Monster Energy Drinks and those overpriced, sugary lattes from the campus vending machine—the only thing keeping me from completely passing out on the spot. The dense equations and dry theories blurred together on the page, making it impossible to focus. My brain begged for a break, but I kept pushing, hoping the caffeine would magically make the material stick.

News flash, it didn't.

So, when Mama casually mentioned that we’d be vacationing in Santorini for summer break, it was like a lifeline had been thrown my way. Suddenly, the fog of exhaustion lifted, and a thrill of excitement surged through me. It was as if a dormant part of me, buried beneath layers of stress and routine, had been awakened, eager for the unexpected adventure that awaited.

The idea of trading my study desk for the stunning views of Santorini seemed almost surreal. My thoughts raced as I imagined wandering through the picturesque streets, soaking in the sun, and immersing myself in a world far removed from the rigors of academic life. It was an escape I hadn't known I needed, a break from the monotony of textbooks and equations.

I pictured myself strolling along the charming alleys lined with whitewashed buildings and vibrant bougainvillea, the scent of the Mediterranean Sea mingling with the aroma of fresh local cuisine. The thought of exploring ancient ruins and savoring sunsets that painted the sky in hues of orange and pink felt like stepping into a dream.

And not to mention, a part of me was inkling for a dream-like, rom-com-esque summer romance. I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, a change of scenery could bring that fantasy to life.

As I swiped through images of ancient ruins, bustling cityscapes, and pristine beaches, I couldn't help but imagine myself in those exotic locales, experiencing the same thrilling adventures and romantic escapades. It was hard not to get swept up in the fantasy, picturing myself in those picture-perfect settings, with someone special by my side. It could quite literally be anyone, at this point. My horrific failed romancing attempts as well as my "not quite mediocre", yet "not quite stellar" looks were keeping me away from all the hotties.

The contrast between the vibrant, sun-soaked images on my screen and the monotony of my daily grind was stark. Quite embarrassing, frankly.

It fueled my desire for something more; something that broke away from the predictability of my studies and everyday responsibilities. Each scroll made the dream of a spontaneous adventure feel more urgent, intensifying my longing for a chance to immerse myself in the extraordinary.

Girls that I had grown up with were posing like models. Vogue, Elle, Cosmopolitan. And I wanted to be just like them.

Teeny tiny bikinis tied by a loose string, new ear and a belly piercing, flip-flops, and red tan lines. Margaritas, mojitos with lime, white wine. Loud club music, the nightlife of a girl in a foreign country, and dark blue eyeshadow and glitter. Flocking around older guys with them, locking lips with handsome strangers in bars, and flaunting all their escapades (or namely, their sexcapades) It was all so racy, daring, and outgoing. All of these things were unlike me, but I was a girl who dreamed of having fun. So you never know, I could suddenly change overnight.

The thought of stepping into that world, even just for a summer, was both thrilling and terrifying. It was a side of life I had only seen through screens, and part of me wondered if I was capable of embracing it. What would it feel like to let go of all my inhibitions, to live without worrying about consequences? To be that carefree girl who dances until dawn, flirts shamelessly, and collects stories too wild to share with anyone but your closest friends?

I couldn’t help but wonder if that girl was buried somewhere inside me, waiting for the right moment—or the right place—to emerge. Maybe Santorini would be the setting for my own little transformation, a place where I could shed my quiet, reserved self and become someone who seizes the moment without hesitation. After all, isn’t that what summer is for?

And when Mama told me about our trip to Santorini, that possibility suddenly seemed within reach. The idea of a vacation to such a dreamlike destination felt like the perfect catalyst for the change I’d been secretly craving. But more than that, it was a surge of joy and gratitude that hit me, knowing how hard she worked to make this happen. Growing up, it was just the two of us—Mama working tirelessly to provide for me and make every day special despite our modest means. She had always done her best to ensure that I had the opportunities I needed, even if it meant making sacrifices. The idea of a vacation, something so seemingly extravagant, was a rare treat, and I was thrilled beyond words.

To say the least, the envy was palpable, a green-eyed monster gnawing at me, craving the excitement and connection that seemed to radiate from every carefully curated Pinterest-worthy post.

Yeah, you can say that that excitement might not have lasted that long.

"Wait, wait, wait, repeat that please?" I questioned, exasperated by both the shitty wifi in my dorm room as well as my mother's purposeful exclusion of information. I sat criss-crossed in my twin-xl dorm room bed, surrounded by the comforting clutter of my college life. My phone rested precariously on the edge of my left knee (balancing carefully as I too, was practicing balancing my temper), its screen flickering with a weak signal as I struggled to catch every word Mama was saying. To my left, a wall was covered in an eclectic array of Polaroids and dimmed fairy lights, creating a soft, warm glow against the stark white of the dormitory walls. The space felt cozy but cramped, with textbooks and scattered notes littering the desk beneath the small window, which offered a view of the bustling campus below.

"Well I thought it would be a wonderful surprise for you," Mama said, elated over the fact that this bit of information was quite important. She wore a gigantic stretching grin on her face, a strict contrast to the curvature of my dimpled frown.

"By purposely excluding that we would be sharing a house with another family?" I incredulously asked, my left eyebrow arching up, my mouth turning into an even more prominent downward frown. Fuck, the shitty dorm wifi is acting up again. Now on Facetime, I was stuck like that. Great. I was eternally engraved into my phone as an unhappy bitch.

"You can make wonderful friends! I heard that they are your age," Mama wiggled her eyebrows. Figures. Of course, she would turn an opportunity that seemed to actively pray on my downfall into a splendid opportunity for me to, *shudders*, socialize.

"I don't need new friends, and there are four of them! That's a lot of people," I exclaimed, throwing my hands into the hair and finger-combing the stray bits of hair out of my face. Socializing was a lot for me sometimes. The thought of mingling with a whole new group felt like a daunting task, especially when my comfort zone was so tightly packed within the walls of my current routine. Each new interaction felt like a potential minefield of awkward conversations and missteps, a far cry from the cozy familiarity of my small circle. (Okay, a circle may be an exaggeration. Maybe a direct line would be a better description to describe the relationships around me: small, minimal, clean)

"Four kids your age, and two parents. This is the perfect mixing pot for you to make friends," Mama pointedly replied.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't need friends," I lied.

"That's a lie," Mama accused. Well, not accused. She was right, but I wouldn't give that to her. I was innately stubborn. Wonder where I got that from…

"Of course not! I have a great social life, thank you very much," I lied, again. Blinking slowly, I tried to not let my eyes expose me.

"You haven't brought a boyfriend home ever. And you have one friend total." Mama snapped back.

"Well, Clementine is a very amazing and loyal best friend," I narrowed my eyes.

"Amen to that one," I could hear Clementine's voice echo from her bunk bed next to me. She was mindlessly scrolling through her phone under her light-blue comforter, yet this nosy bitch was still listening to our conversation.

"Mind your business Missus Nosy," I sassed at Clementine.

"Whatever, your business is mine. You forget we are literally ten feet away from each other." She groaned as she flipped to face me from under the comfort of her blankets. Mama laughed and I grimaced again.

"Seriously, you should branch out. As a young lady, you must learn to explore your choices-" Mama continued, and I could feel a heartfelt lecture incoming.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it I know." I rolled my eyes and laughed.

"So, what exactly are we supposed to do with this family?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the idea.

"You’ll figure it out," Mama said with a reassuring tone. "It's an opportunity to meet new people and have some fun. Plus, they might have interesting stories to share."

"Right, because nothing says 'fun' like having to navigate the quirks of a new family while on vacation," I said, sarcastically. "I suppose I could use a few new stories to tell."

"That's the spirit! And who knows, maybe you’ll end up having a great time. Sometimes the best adventures come from the unexpected," Mama said optimistically.

"I guess we’ll see. Just don’t be surprised if I spend most of my time avoiding their overzealous attempts at bonding," I replied, half-joking.

"Fair enough," Mama laughed. "Just promise me you’ll at least give it a chance. And who knows, you might even surprise yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. I promise," I said with a resigned sigh. "I'll give it a chance, even if it means putting up with a bunch of new faces."

"That’s all I ask," Mama said, her voice softening. "I’m looking forward to this trip, and I hope you will be too."

"Me too, I guess," I said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Just don’t expect me to become best friends with everyone right away."

"Deal," Mama said with a smile. "And remember, it’s supposed to be an adventure."

"Adventure. Got it," I said, rolling my eyes again but smiling this time. "Let’s hope it’s more exciting than a group project."

"Exactly! Now, get ready for a summer you won’t forget," Mama said, her tone upbeat.

"Yeah, yeah," I replied, "I’ll do my best."

As the call ended, I shook my head, trying to shake off the unease. Interrupting me from my daydreaming, Clementine cleared her throat.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I'll do my best." She mocked me in a high-pitched voice.

"Girl shut up," I groaned, throwing one of my various squishmallows at her head.

"Branch out my ass, you need to get cronked." Clementine gestured enthusiastically. Yes, she was the most extroverted person that I knew, and I loved it about her. We were just two opposite ends of a stick, and I did have a lot to learn about her charisma as well.

"What you just described is quite literally the evil alter-ego version of me, you know that right?" I deadpanned. Throwing back the squishmallow at me, she continued.

"Oh, come on! Loosen up and have some fun," Clementine replied with a flourish. "You’re too stiff, girl. You need to embrace the chaos and just go with it. And you know that you really want to have fun." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"Okay yes fine, you got me." I rolled my eyes again.

"It's the summer somewhere new, be happy! You can be anyone that you want for a bit." She said.

"Yeah, sure. Maybe if the wifi wasn’t being a pain, I’d have a better attitude," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Blame it on the wifi all you want," Clementine said, laughing. "But seriously, you’re going to have a blast. Just let yourself get loose. Besides, how often do you get to have spontaneous adventures like this?"

"True," I admitted, "but it’s a lot easier for you to say. You thrive on chaos. Eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"Okay, make me sound like some ravenous gossip party monster, Mrs. Malnourished-From-Any-Entertainment," Clementine rolled her eyes.

"Hey!!" I sputtered, trying to feign madness. I failed, as I immediately burst out laughing.

"And I swear you’re going to learn to love all the chaos too!" Clementine said enthusiastically. "It’s all about stepping out of your comfort zone. You’ve got to live a little!"

I sighed, shaking my head but smiling. "Alright, Miss Extrovert, I’ll try. Just don’t expect me to start dancing on tables or anything."

"Hey, you never know!" Clementine teased. "You might surprise yourself. Besides, it’s all about making memories, right?"

"Make memories, youthful nature, spring in my step, all right I get it man!" I yell, burrowing my face in my pillow, also conveniently getting a mouthful of hair. Yum.

"And don't forget it's actually time for you to get laid," Clementine said in a sing-songy type of voice.

"Clementine!" I exclaimed. She really had no filter, this girl…

"What? I'm just saying," Clementine shrugged, her grin widening. "A little romance never hurt anyone, right?"

"Yeah, but could you not be so… blunt about it?" I replied, trying to regain my composure. "I mean, it's one thing to tease me about dancing on tables, but this is pushing it."

Clementine laughed, unabashedly. "Oh, come on. You're going to a beautiful place with a bunch of people your age. It’s practically a recipe for adventure. And who knows? Maybe this will be the summer you meet someone special."

"Or maybe it’ll be the summer I learn to tolerate sharing a house with strangers," I said, rolling my eyes. "But thanks for the… encouragement."

"Hey, I’m just trying to help you make the most of it," Clementine said, her tone softening. "Sometimes a little push is all you need to open up and see things differently."

I sighed, shaking my head but smiling despite myself. "Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll keep an open mind. But no promises on the whole ‘getting laid’ part."

"And plus, I have absolutely no skills in approaching any guy ever. You know this," I cried in despair. Clementine laughed, recalling all the times when my horrible romancing skills failed me. Note, there are way too many to mention, so why do I even bother to find a boyfriend in the first place…

"Oh, I remember the summer fair incident," Clementine said, her laughter bubbling up. "You were trying to strike up a conversation with that guy at the cotton candy stand, and you got so flustered you ended up spilling your drink all over him."

"Please don't remind me of that, oh no," I groaned.

"And then, in an attempt to salvage the situation, you accidentally knocked over the cotton candy machine. The whole thing turned into a sticky, sugary disaster. You actually looked beet red it was so funny," Clementine continued laughing.

"I still cringe thinking about that," I groaned, hiding my face. "I was so embarrassed I avoided that fair for months."

"And let’s not forget that one party during Midsummer's last year," Clementine said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh let's not bring that one up from the archives-" I started to say.

"Girl you need to stop pretending that you can actually dance," Clementine giggled.

"Hey! I actually didn't know that he was a professional dancer, okay? Showing me up that badly was so embarrassing, I did want to die so bad at that moment," I recalled.

"I was trying to save your horrid fate," Clementine continued.

"You can't just gesture to me at a party and try to whisper yell, it's so loud. That would've never worked," I argued.

"Well from the sidelines it was actually pretty funny seeing you trip and then knock over those plastic cups," Clementine continued.

"Yeah? It wasn't funny when I landed in that bowl of punch face-first though," I whined.

"Yeah! Of course, it wasn't because my car smelled like the rancid mix of alcohol and punch for weeks," Clementine complained.

"That's my revenge for you. You should've yanked me out of the dance circle the minute I stepped foot in there. Why I did it, I have no idea to this day," I lamented.

"Ugh, meanie," Clementine laughed at me.

"That was such a mess, though" I admitted, cringing. "I had to help clean up while everyone tried not to laugh at me."

"But hey," Clementine said, her tone softening. "All those awkward moments make for great stories, and they don’t define who you are. Sometimes, it’s those hilarious failures that end up being the most memorable."

"Fine, Mom," I droned on. "You have a point."

Clementine’s eyes twinkled with a mix of sympathy and amusement. "Exactly. And besides, who knows? Maybe this summer will be the time you finally get it right. You’re going to be in a new place with new people. It’s a fresh start."

"I suppose," I said, still feeling a bit skeptical but warming up to the idea. "I guess there's something to be said for making a fool of yourself in a new environment. It might not be so bad if everyone’s in the same boat."

Okay, I lied again. It was that bad.

(Guys I promise that I'm not a serial liar, I just exaggerate. A bit.)

The overwhelming heat of Greece, and pretty much the heat of the Mediterranean hit me like a truck immediately when I landed. It was dry heat, no humidity no nothing. Just good ole heavy heat. Sweating through the airport terminal, then customs, to the shuttle, my bra was pretty much damp by the time I had stepped onto the cobbled ground in front of our air b&b.

Beaded sweat was clouding my vision, completely ruining the pretty vision I had when I put gel on my forehead to curl my baby hairs. I was seeing stars (mostly perspiration). It was hot. I was getting a hot flash/nearly dying of heatstroke.

The dreamy images of Santorini I had envisioned from my cool, comfortable dorm room felt like a distant fantasy now. The picturesque streets, which I had imagined as quaint and inviting, seemed more like a maze of sun-baked stone. My excitement was quickly replaced by a wave of discomfort and disorientation.

“Welcome to paradise,” I muttered sarcastically to myself, feeling like I was melting into the pavement. I glanced over at my mom, who was also looking a little wilted but trying to maintain her usual upbeat demeanor.

“This is just the beginning,” she said, her voice cheerful but slightly strained. “It’ll get better once we get settled in.”

I hoped she was right. For now, though, all I could think about was finding a cool, shaded spot and trying to regain some semblance of composure. The fantasy of a perfect summer seemed to be melting away as quickly as the ice in my now lukewarm drink.

I fumbled with the keys to the front door, my fingers slick with sweat. The lock was stubborn, refusing to cooperate as I struggled to get inside. My mom was at my side, trying to help but also looking equally overheated.

“Maybe I should have warned you about the heat,” she said, her voice strained but still optimistic. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

“I think ‘a bit’ is an understatement,” I managed to reply, finally pushing the door open and stepping into the cooler interior. The contrast was immediate, but the relief was short-lived as I realized the air conditioning wasn’t working properly.

“This is not how I pictured it,” I admitted, feeling my earlier excitement wane. The romanticized version of this trip was crumbling under the harsh reality of the Mediterranean heat and my physical discomfort.

My mom looked around, her face showing a mixture of apology and determination. “We’ll get it sorted,” she said. “Let’s just unpack and try to cool off. Maybe a cold shower will help.”

I nodded, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I just hope the heat doesn’t turn this whole trip into a sweaty ordeal.” To foreshadow, it pretty much was like that the entire trip.

As soon as I stepped inside, the first thing that hit me was the chaotic array of shoes scattered haphazardly across the floor. There were sneakers, sandals, and flip-flops in a disordered spread as if a small army had shed their footwear in a hurry. The once inviting entrance now resembled a makeshift shoe rack, cluttered with mismatched pairs and abandoned shoes.

“Mama, it looks like we’re not the first ones here,” I said, my voice tinged with annoyance as I kicked aside a stray sandal. “It’s a mess.” I could feel my frustration mounting as I took in the scene. The once appealing idea of arriving at a neatly prepared vacation home now seemed overshadowed by the disorder and lack of preparation.

God, I hoped that whoever was here didn't make the whole place look like the dorm room of a stinky, smelly, teenage boy.

Mama quickly scanned the surrounding areas. “Oh, I didn’t realize. They must have arrived before us. They’re probably out exploring the city.”

“That’s just great,” I said, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. “They’re already out having fun while we’re stuck schlepping our luggage.”

With a sigh, I grabbed two huge pieces of luggage and began dragging them up a narrow flight of stairs. Each step felt like a small victory, but the sweat pouring down my back made every movement feel like a monumental effort. I didn’t even know my butt could sweat that much. It was as if my entire body was engaged in a desperate battle against the oppressive heat. My clothes clung to me in a way that made me feel like a walking puddle.

Every few steps, I had to stop and catch my breath, wiping the sweat from my forehead and cursing under my breath. The heat inside the house, combined with the physical exertion, had me feeling utterly drenched. My damp hair stuck to my neck, and I could smell the distinct, unpleasant odor of sweat mingling with the heat.

“Can you believe this?” I called down to my mom, trying to keep my frustration in check while I heaved one suitcase up another step. “I’m already drenched, and we haven’t even started unpacking. I feel like I’m swimming in my sweat!”

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it once we get settled,” she said from below, her voice slightly muffled by the distance. “Just hang in there. Take that cold shower, aye? It’ll make you feel better.”

Her optimism was appreciated, but it did little to ease the burning frustration I felt. I finally managed to get both suitcases into our room and collapsed onto the bed, feeling utterly defeated. My legs felt like jelly, and I flopped down with a dramatic groan. The mattress, thankfully cooler than the air, felt like the only respite I’d had all day.

“I’m taking a shower,” I announced, my voice flat with exhaustion. “I need to cool off before I melt into a puddle. This heat is seriously getting to me.”

Grabbing all my toiletries in one hand (which would be moderately regrettable in approximately a minute), my phone and a towel haphazardly slung over my shoulder, I sped-walked to the nearest bathroom. My appearance was nothing short of disastrous: a loose beige bra that clung awkwardly to my sweat-drenched skin, and tightly fitted black spandex shorts that felt like they were melting into my sweaty legs. But, by golly, I was determined to take a shower. I assured myself that no one was there but Mama and me.

That is what I thought.

Clearly, that thought changed when I threw open the bathroom door to be met with a wall of steam and the startling sight of a pasty, pale chest belonging to a random white guy. In a comedy of errors, we collided headfirst into each other. He let out a yelp of surprise as I stumbled backward, dropping my toiletries and towel in the process.

“AHHH!” We both screamed in unison, our voices mingling in a perfect pitch of panic and disbelief. My phone slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor, the emergency contact screen flashing in alarm and my phone's flashlight being turned on as it bounced. The towel, now airborne, landed atop the guy’s head like a makeshift hat, which only made the situation more absurd. My toiletries, scattered like fallen soldiers, rolled across the tile in every direction.

In the frenzy, the guy’s shampoo bottle, which had been precariously perched on the edge of the sink, took a dive and exploded into a foamy mess, splattering us both with a thick layer of bubbles. I slipped on the slick tile, my foot skidding out from under me and sending me crashing into a pile of wet towels.

In the chaos, I tried to grab onto the nearest thing for support, which ended up being his bicep. My fingers closed around the surprisingly smooth and firm muscle, and I couldn't help but notice how it felt like a warm, solid rock under my touch. The unexpected contact sent a flush of heat to my cheeks, and I found myself blushing furiously as I tried to steady myself.

Never mind the sudden fucking romance, I was flailing and falling, and it was embarrassing as hell.

As I yanked on his arm, he lost his balance and we both went tumbling to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs, shampoo, and toilet paper. The sheer force of our combined weight caused the guy to slam into the opposite wall, sending a shower of misplaced toiletries and a small avalanche of cleaning supplies cascading down on us. We landed in an awkward, sprawled mess, my leg draped over his and his arm pinned beneath my back, all while the air was filled with the scent of minty shampoo.

"What the actual fuck," The weird white guy said. I was surprised to hear an Australian accent escape his mouth, quite different than the accents I heard every day.

"Who the fuck are you?" I exclaimed in disbelief, trying to stand up, but wincing because my head and bum hurt very much.

He groaned, trying to sit up and shift me off his chest. "I'm Oscar. From Australia."

"Oscar who?" I asked, still struggling to comprehend the situation while attempting to fix my disheveled hair.

“Oscar from Australia,” he deadpanned, his frustration evident. His wet hair, still dripping from his recent shower, clung to his forehead, adding to his slightly disheveled look. Despite his frown, which was more a mix of irritation and bemusement, there was something oddly cute about him. His features were sharp but softened by his annoyed expression, and his damp hair only added to his rugged charm. The heat of the bathroom made his skin glisten slightly, and the combination of his tousled hair and pouty frown gave him a kind of adorably exasperated vibe. "You know, as in the guy whose bicep you just clung to like a life raft in a storm."

"Well, excuse me, Oscar from Australia," I retorted, finally managing to get to my feet but still wobbly. "I didn’t exactly plan on meeting you in such a—uh—personal way."

Oscar smirked, flicking some shampoo suds off his hand. "Yeah, well, this wasn’t how I planned to greet my new neighbors either. I was expecting someone who could walk without tripping over thin air, but hey, I guess we can’t all be that lucky."

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "Great. So not only am I dealing with a mess of shampoo and toiletries, but now I have to navigate an awkward introduction with some guy who thinks he’s important enough to be 'Oscar from Australia.'" I honestly did not give a fuck if he was called "Oscar from Bumfuck Nowhere" or "Oscar the Prince of Bahrain", he needed to chill the fuck out.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, still struggling to keep a straight face. "Well, you know, ‘Oscar from Australia’ doesn’t have a very high bar for first impressions apparently. But hey, at least you’ll remember me, right?”

I rolled my eyes, snatching my towel off his head. "Yeah, I’ll definitely remember you as the guy who managed to turn my bathroom break into an episode of slapstick comedy."

Wiping a loose tear that streamed down my face due to shampoo getting in my eyes, I continued. "I just wanted a goddamn shower after that long plane ride and the bloody heat from outside man. What the hell…" I drifted off.

Oscar’s face twitched between amusement and exasperation. Honestly, now that I am thinking about it, his countenance was definitely leaning more toward exasperation and frustration. "I’m sorry my ‘Australian charm’ is such a disaster for you. But you know, I wasn’t exactly planning on getting tackled by a very disheveled girl either."

I huffed, my arms crossed defiantly over my chest, and my posture was a rigid display of frustration. My shoulders were hunched slightly, and I tilted my head to one side, making it clear I was not in the mood for further nonsense. My face was a portrait of annoyance—my brows were furrowed deeply, and my lips were pressed into a thin line. A flush of irritation spread across my cheeks, and my eyes, which had been rimmed with the remnants of shampoo, glared at Oscar with unfiltered exasperation. Every muscle in my expression seemed to scream, "Seriously?" as I struggled to keep my composure amidst the chaotic aftermath of our unintended collision.

"Oh, so now I’m ‘disheveled’? You might have noticed I was in the middle of trying to clean myself up when you decided to become a human wrecking ball."

Oscar chuckled despite himself. "Look, I didn’t mean to turn your bath into a soap opera. It was an accident—just like your epic phone drop and shampoo explosion." The audacity of this guy to even put my "epic phone drop" in air quotes. What a comic. Haha, totally funny.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yeah, well, it’s not every day I get tackled by a random guy in the shower. Maybe you could’ve picked a less dramatic way to introduce yourself."

This "Oscar from Australia" guy was really starting to annoy me.

To be fair, I may have been escalating the whole thing because I truly do feel like a different person the moment heat washes over me. And this whole situation—sweaty, disheveled, and now dealing with a ridiculously charming yet infuriating Australian—was the cherry on top of my chaotic day.

Oscar shook his head, a smirk still tugging at his lips. "Well, if you ever need a more dramatic first impression, you know where to find me." With that, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the steamy mess of the bathroom.

The jokes on him, first impressions are first and quite permanent. They don't change.

As I stood in the shower, still reeling from our chaotic confrontation, I finally managed to get my shower running. The cool water cascading down my back felt like a small slice of relief after the sweltering heat and tension of the past few minutes. I glanced at my reflection in the misty mirror, trying to scrub away the remnants of shampoo and irritation. My hair, now a tangled mess of suds and frustration, clung to my face as I attempted to regain some semblance of dignity.

It struck me suddenly—amidst the chaos and embarrassment—that something had shifted within me. I had been more assertive and bold than I ever remembered being, and this unexpected encounter had stirred confidence in me I hadn't recognized before. I didn’t just let the situation unfold; I stood my ground, even if it meant facing down a charming yet infuriating Australian.

Blushing slightly, I scolded myself silently. Really? Hurling myself at a guy I just met the moment I get to Santorini? It was like I’d thrown my usual reserved self out the window along with my dignity.

This wasn't Love Island. And he certainly wasn't the steamy-hot Australian guy from Casa who would be able to woo my heart in mere milliseconds.

Sweet lord, Clementine told me to reset myself this vacation. I had singlehandedly managed to reset my personality in three minutes.

As I rinsed the last of the foam from my hair, a sudden pang of regret hit me. I had never actually told Oscar my name. How had I managed to skip such a basic part of an introduction amid our chaotic collision? The thought gnawed at me, adding another layer to my mortification.

To him, I was probably that weird, really sweaty, and kind of stinky vacation girl with a pissy attitude. Now I am not saying that that isn't a spot-on accurate description of me, but it kind of hurts that I didn't behave better.

A lack of decorum on both of our parts, I'll conclude.

I couldn’t help but replay the moment when I’d bumped into him—his rock-solid chest meeting mine with surprising warmth. My eyes had instinctively trailed down from his broad shoulders to the defined abs that quite literally were making eye contact with me. The firm, unexpected contact of his body against mine had sent a jolt through me, making me acutely aware of how close we’d been.

Even now, the memory of that fleeting contact made me blush deeper, and my face felt like it was on fire. The way his chest had felt—solid and warm—seemed to linger, leaving an imprint on my senses. I recalled how his abs had pressed against me, their tautness undeniable from even where I was standing. It was almost embarrassing how my eyes had involuntarily traced those contours, as if they were a new and intriguing landscape I had never seen before.

Ugh, what the fuck. I desperately needed a Facetime to debrief all of this confusing absurdity with dearest Clementine.

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taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09

[mssalo]

safety - Part: III

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Obsession themes, Stalking, Panic episode/Paranoia, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, he sees stuff that isn't there, Mentions of war and combat-related trauma, Emotional manipulation, Power dynamics, Noncon/dubcon elements, Unstable mental state, Reader feeling conflicted. Joel needs a hug and therapy. As per usual.

10k

Enjoy!

Part I Part II

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The soft afternoon sun filtered through your curtains as you did one last sweep of your small apartment, making sure everything was in place before heading out.

Your camping gear—neatly packed and checked twice—sat by the door, ready for another adventure.

This one felt different, though.

Maybe it was because you’d never gone so far out, or maybe because the spot had been suggested by Joel, the rugged, quiet man who came by at the supply store.

The thought of him made your stomach do a tiny flip, and you smiled to yourself, biting your lip.

Joel.

He was... intense, that was for sure.

Handsome in a way that took you by surprise—older, gruff, with that scruff on his jawline and those eyes that seemed to see right through you.

He’d been kind of closed off whenever you tried to talk to him, always giving short answers, but there was something about the way he looked at you.

You shook your head, grabbing your bag. Don’t get carried away.

Sure, he looked at you sometimes, his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary, but that didn’t mean anything.

You were probably imagining it. After all, he was always so reserved, so hard to read.

And you? Well, you were... you.

He probably thinks I’m just a kid, you thought with a small sigh.

Cute, maybe, but nothing more.

You laughed at yourself, shaking your head as the trees closed in around you.

Stop it. Focus on the trip.

You weren’t here to daydream about handsome older men—you were here to camp, to prove to yourself that you could handle this on your own.

He was just... nice, in his own way. That was all.

You couldn’t help but smile as you tossed your gear into the backseat and slid behind the wheel, already feeling the excitement buzzing in your chest.

The open road stretched ahead of you, leading to the spot Joel had mentioned—someplace out past the ridge, quiet and secluded. It sounded like heaven.

The drive was peaceful, your fingers tapping the steering wheel as the scenery shifted from city to countryside.

The trees seemed to grow taller as you left the main roads behind, the air turning cooler and cleaner with every passing mile. You loved this—the sense of leaving the noise behind, of stepping into a world that was all your own. Out here, you could breathe.

The road eventually narrowed into a dirt path, and your car rumbled over the uneven ground as you followed the directions Joel had given you.

The sunlight flickered through the dense canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor.

It was beautiful out here—quiet, untouched, with the kind of peace you could only find miles away from anyone else.

When you finally pulled into the small clearing, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Wow.

The space was perfect.

The trees formed a natural border around the clearing, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The ground was soft with pine needles, and the air smelled fresh and earthy, with just a hint of woodsmoke from somewhere far off.

You stepped out of the car, your boots crunching on the ground, and for a moment, you just stood there, taking it all in.

This is exactly what I needed.

You popped the trunk of your car, the warm breeze rustling through the trees as you grabbed your backpack and gear.

The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the clearing, but you had plenty of time to set everything up before dusk settled in.

With a smile tugging at your lips, you slung the pack over your shoulder and took a deep breath of the crisp, earthy air.

It smelled like pine and moss, with just a hint of the nearby sea.

Perfect.

First things first—the tent.

You dropped your backpack onto the ground and knelt beside it, unzipping the side pocket where you’d stashed the tent poles.

Your fingers brushed over the cool metal, and you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as you pulled them out.

These damn poles always give me trouble.

You spread the tent fabric over the grassy spot you’d chosen, carefully laying it flat and adjusting the corners.

The fabric crinkled under your touch, the sound almost lost in the hum of the wind and distant birdsong. The air was still, quiet, as if the forest itself was holding its breath while you worked.

With a determined sigh, you grabbed the poles and got to work.

The metal clinked softly as you tried to fit the pieces together, but as usual, they resisted you. You grumbled under your breath, fumbling with the last stubborn connection.

After a few minutes of struggling and a minor battle with the pole that just wouldn’t line up right, you finally secured the tent frame, the fabric puffing up as it took shape.

Not bad, you thought with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire your handiwork.

The tent stood proudly in the clearing, and you wiped a bit of dirt off your hands, brushing them against your jeans.

You weren’t done yet, though.

With the tent in place, you moved on to your cooking supplies. You pulled out your small camp stove, some pots, and a few basic utensils, setting them neatly near the fire pit.

Everything had a place, and you liked knowing where everything was. Organization was important to you—it gave you a sense of control, made you feel prepared for anything.

It was comforting, like you were creating a little slice of order in the middle of the wilderness.

As you set down your cooking gear, your gaze flicked up toward the treeline, where you could just make out the glimmer of the sea through the trees.

The light reflected off the water like tiny diamonds, and you felt a pull in your chest, a desire to sink into that cool water after all your hard work.

Soon, you thought, grinning to yourself.

Just a little longer.

You double-checked your setup, making sure everything was where it needed to be.

The tent was secure, the cooking supplies organized, and the fire pit was ready for later. With everything in place, a sense of accomplishment washed over you.

The silence of the clearing felt peaceful, almost sacred, as if this place had been waiting just for you.

You took another deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs, and as you exhaled, you felt lighter, freer.

It was just you and the wilderness now, the weight of the world falling away. And with that thought, you couldn’t resist any longer.

You straightened up, glanced back at the sea shimmering in the distance, and a surge of excitement bubbled up inside you.

Without thinking, you raised your arms toward the sky and let out a loud, joyful, “Wooooohooo!”

Your voice echoed through the trees, the sound dancing on the wind.

You couldn’t help but laugh as the echoes faded, your heart pounding with exhilaration.

It was a small victory, this moment—being here, in this beautiful place, by yourself.

“Thank you, Joel!” you called out, a grin stretching across your face.

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the wind or to yourself, but it didn’t matter.

He wasn’t here, but somehow, it felt right to thank him.

After all, he had recommended this place, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the suggestion. You stood there for a moment longer, letting the silence settle in again.

Then, with a smile still tugging at your lips, you turned toward the path that led to the sea.

It was time to reward yourself with a swim, to feel the water against your skin, cool and refreshing.

This is going to be a good trip.

And who knows? you thought, maybe I’ll come back and tell Joel all about it.

· · ──────

Joel had been watching her since she arrived, hidden in the treeline, his gaze sharp and steady. His truck was parked a ways back, well out of sight.

He’d walked the rest of the way, making sure to stay quiet as he moved through the brush, his boots silent against the earth.

He was always careful—old habits from his time in the military never died, and neither did his instinct to remain unseen.

Joel watched her step out, wide-eyed and eager, like she hadn’t the faintest clue about the dangers lurking in a place like this. Even though he’d told her where to come, seeing her here alone had set him on edge.

He had to protect her. Make sure she was safe.

She started setting up her camp, fumbling with the tent poles like he expected she would.

His lips twitched in amusement as she muttered to herself, the poles giving her more trouble than they had any right to.

He watched her struggle, clumsy but determined, and despite himself, he felt his chest tighten again, that same damn feeling that had been gnawing at him for weeks.

He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching her like this, but the more he told himself that, the more his feet stayed planted. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a tree as he kept his eyes on her.

She was smart—he could see it in the way she double-checked everything, making sure the tent was secure, the cooking gear laid out just so.

She wasn’t careless, not exactly. Just… naive.

Still, something about her innocence, her softness, drew him in, despite his better judgment.

As she finished up, he was about to move, maybe head back to his truck and give her some space, but then she did something that made him freeze.

She raised her arms to the sky, her voice bursting out of her in a loud, joyful, “Woooohooo!”

Joel tensed, his instincts flaring, his hand instinctively hovering near his belt. The sound had startled him, snapping him into high alert.

He scanned the area, eyes narrowing, but there was nothing.

Just her. Alone. Safe.

Relief washed over him, but then he felt something else—a strange amusement creeping in.

She wasn’t screaming out of fear. No, she was celebrating, shouting into the empty wilderness like it was hers to claim.

She laughed, carefree and so full of life that it almost… unsettled him. His chest loosened, and before he could stop himself, a low chuckle rumbled deep in his throat.

She had no idea he was there, no idea how close he was.

Then, to his complete surprise, she threw her head back and shouted, “Thank you, Joel!”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, the words hanging in the air between them, the sound of her voice almost too sweet.

His grip on his belt relaxed, his pulse slowing as he realized she was… thanking him.

For this. For bringing her here.

His amusement deepened, and he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. A soft breeze rustled through the trees, and Joel leaned forward slightly, his voice a low murmur as he whispered under his breath,

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

He watched her for a moment longer, her happiness infectious despite himself. She was something different, that much he knew. Something soft in a world that had long since hardened him.

And as much as he knew he should leave her alone, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Not now.

Not when she was out here, completely unaware of the dangers that could surround her at any moment. Because that’s what he was here for, wasn’t it?

To keep her safe. To make sure nothing happened to her.

Joel watched her from the shadows, still on high alert as she busied herself around the campsite. His amusement had faded, replaced by that familiar tension coiling in his chest, the constant need to keep her safe gnawing at him.

It didn't sit right with him, her being out here all alone.

She had no idea what kind of dangers lurked out in the woods, no clue just how vulnerable she was. He clenched his fists, eyes narrowing as he kept his distance.

She was endearing, sure.

Sweet, even.

But that sweetness was going to get her killed if she wasn't careful. And as much as he wanted to keep his distance, to leave her be, he couldn't. She needs to be protected, he thought, his jaw tightening.

She doesn't even realize how easy of a target she is.

He kept his eyes on her, watching every movement with a careful precision. It wasn't just about keeping her safe from wild animals or the natural dangers of the wilderness.

People-men-could show up.

She was vulnerable in more ways than one, and Joel knew just how ruthless the world could be. His mind was spiraling again, his paranoia threatening to take over, when he saw her heading toward the small lake just beyond the campsite.

His eyes followed her, every muscle in his body tensing as he realized what she was doing.

She was undressing.

Joel's breath caught in his throat as he watched her pull her shirt over her head, her soft skin catching the light of the fading sun.

His mind screamed at him to look away, to respect her privacy, but his body betrayed him, his eyes glued to her every movement.

She dropped her shorts next, standing there in nothing but her underwear, the curve of her waist and hips on full display.

Joel's chest tightened, that familiar, unwanted heat rising inside him. He swallowed hard, his grip on the tree next to him tightening.

All the blood rushing to his cock.

But then she did something that made his blood boil.

With one fluid motion, she unclasped her bra, letting it tall to the ground.

His eyes locked onto the bare skin of her back, the soft curves of her body now fully exposed. She bent down, slipping out of her underwear, her entire form now vulnerable and exposed to the world.

What the hell is she doing?

A surge of anger flared up inside him. She was defenseless, naked, out in the open with no protection.

If anything-anyone-were to show up, she wouldn't stand a chance.

His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, the kind of things he'd seen during the war, the kind of things that made his skin crawl.

She's making herself a damn target.

Joel's jaw clenched, his fists tightening as he took a step forward, every instinct screaming at him to go to her, to tell her to put her damn clothes back on, to stop being so careless.

But then he froze.

His eyes swept over her again, this time with less anger and more... something else. The tension in his chest shifted, the fire in his veins cooling to a slow burn as he watched her step into the water, her body moving with a grace he hadn't noticed before.

Her bare skin glistened in the fading light, soft and smooth, the curves of her hips and the lines of her back almost too perfect.

She moved so effortlessly, her body swaying gently as she waded into the water, unaware of the eyes on her.

Joel's breath came out in slow, uneven bursts as he watched her. His anger faded, replaced by a twisted sense of admiration.

She was beautiful-there was no denying that. Her body was soft, untouched by the harshness of the world. His eyes traced the curve of her waist, the way her plump ass shifted as she walked deeper into the water.

Joel's chest rose and fell, his breathing heavy as he watched her.

His hand twitched at his side, his mind warring between the desire to protect her and the desire to... take her.

Take her - right here, right now on the forest floor.

His gaze followed the curve of her back, the way her hair floated around her in the water.

She was so oblivious, so innocent, completely unaware of the dangers around her.

And that was what enraged him—the recklessness, the vulnerability.

She had no idea how exposed she was, not just to the world but to him. The thought gnawed at him, tearing at the edges of his resolve.

He should have been disgusted with himself for standing there, hidden in the shadows, watching her like this. But the desire twisted deep inside him, growing stronger the longer he stared.

Joel swallowed hard, his throat dry, as his eyes roamed lower, taking in every inch of her.

The tightness in his jeans was almost painful, his cock pressing hard against the denim, aching in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

The war inside him raged on.

His mind wavered between the desperate need to protect her and the darker, more primal urge he had no right to feel. He wanted to shield her from the world, from the dangers lurking just beyond the trees.

But at the same time, he wanted to take her in all ways possible, to claim her as his. To fuck into her small body. To make her understand just how much she needed him.

No. Stop.

Joel leaned against the tree, his knuckles white as he fought to steady his breath.

His breath hitched as she resurfaced, water cascading down her bare skin like liquid silver.

The way the sunlight danced across her damp figure, catching on every curve and hollow, made her look almost unreal—like something ethereal, pulled straight from a dream.

Her skin shimmered in the fading light, her hair slicked back, clinging to her neck and shoulders in wet strands that only accentuated the softness of her features.

She didn’t belong out here.

She looked too delicate, too pure for the wildness surrounding her.

The contrast between the untamed wilderness and her serene, almost angelic form sent a shiver down his spine.

She was grace in motion, completely unaware of how vulnerable she was.

Each movement she made, each ripple in the water as she waded further in, was almost hypnotic, drawing him in deeper.

He had seen a lot in his life—too much.

The ugliness of the world had hardened him, left him numb to the softness it still had to offer.

But now, watching her, something in him cracked.

It wasn’t just the lust. It was something else.

Something about the way she seemed to glow in the dying light, so peaceful, so unburdened by the weight of the world.

She was everything he wasn't—everything he’d lost a long time ago. Ethereal, untouchable, and yet here she was, right in front of him.

Joel felt the pull again, that urge to protect her, to shield her from the darkness that had consumed so much of his life. But more than that, he wanted to keep her for himself, to have her softness against all his rough edges.

And in that moment, he realized, there was no going back.

Joel's jaw clenched as she started to wade back toward the shore, the water slipping down her body, revealing more of her as she emerged. The way the droplets glistened on her skin, made it impossible for him to tear his eyes away.

His pulse quickened, the primal urge to keep watching nearly overwhelming him.

But then, Joel forced himself to look away.

Not yet.

His fists tightened at his sides, nails digging into his palms.

He wanted to see her fully, to drink in every inch of her-but not like this.

In due time.

The thought stirred something deep inside him, the hunger gnawing at him even more fiercely.

He swallowed hard, his breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls.

Joel exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down, forcing his gaze back to the safety of the trees.

· · ────

The sun had finally dipped behind the trees, casting long shadows across your camp.

You moved around with a sense of contentment, the cool evening air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Everything felt peaceful—the kind of peace that you didn’t often get to experience in your daily life.

You set about lighting the small lantern, but as you reached for your flashlight to help navigate the growing darkness, a frown crossed your face.

“Where is it…?” you muttered, going through your bag again.

You checked each pocket carefully, but no flashlight.

You’d been so sure you packed it.

With a sigh, you knelt to check your gear one more time, shaking your head at your forgetfulness.

But then, there it was.

Sitting right in front of the tent flap, the flashlight gleamed in the soft light of the lantern, as if it had been there all along.

You blinked, rubbing your eyes in confusion.

“I swear that wasn’t there before,” you whispered to yourself.

It didn’t make sense.

You hadn’t seen it when you set up the tent, and you definitely would’ve noticed it while sorting through your gear. But after a moment of hesitation, you shrugged and picked it up, flicking it on to make sure it worked.

The beam cut through the growing twilight, casting long, gentle shadows over the campsite.

You felt a little silly for doubting yourself.

Maybe you were just distracted—too caught up in the excitement of the trip.

“Good job, brain,” you muttered with a grin, brushing off the strangeness as you moved on.

As you dug through your pack to prepare for dinner, your hand paused mid-search. You realized something else was missing.

Your lighter.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, slumping your shoulders in frustration.

This was supposed to be the easy part.

You sat back on your heels, glancing around camp, trying to figure out where you might have left it.

But before you could even get up to start looking, something caught your eye.

A lighter.

Sitting near the fire pit.

You squinted, taking a step closer. It wasn’t just any lighter.

It had a goofy design on it—bright colors with some sort of cartoon character.

You raised your eyebrows, picking it up and turning it over in your hand. The lighter had a ridiculous picture of a grinning, cartoonish frog on it, wearing sunglasses. Beneath it, the words “Coolest Camper Ever!” were printed in bold letters.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of it breaking through your earlier frustration.

“What the heck?” you giggled, flicking the lighter on and watching the small flame flicker to life.

“Well, guess this’ll do,” you chuckled, tucking it into your pocket.

You had no idea where this thing came from—it certainly wasn’t yours—but it was too funny to care.

Besides, a free lighter was a free lighter.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of oddness, though. Finding the flashlight and then this strange lighter? Maybe you were just a bit more scattered than usual, but still… it was weird.

You shook it off, letting the humor of the situation lighten your mood as you went back to your tasks.

· · ────

Joel moved like a shadow through the trees, his steps soundless on the forest floor. Years of survival had taught him how to blend into the background, how to become invisible when needed.

This wasn’t his first time sneaking up on someone—far from it—but something about doing it now, with her, made his chest tighten.

It wasn’t the same as before.

No enemy patrols, no immediate danger. But there was a weight to this, a tension that hadn’t been there for years. He was on edge, his senses heightened, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring.

She hadn’t noticed him yet. Not once.

That fact gnawed at him, frustration bubbling under the surface. She was so damn easy to watch, so completely unaware of the world around her.

It bothered him how vulnerable she was, how easily someone could sneak up on her like this.

Like he was doing.

But that's different.

As he moved closer, crouched low among the trees, he caught sight of her bent over her bag, her back to him as she searched for something.

nice view.

Joel quickly dismissed the thought.

He narrowed his eyes, watching her every move, assessing the scene like he had a hundred times before in far more dangerous situations.She was clumsy, fumbling with her things, but she didn’t seem to care.

Didn’t seem to realize how exposed she was.

Joel moved closer, his heart beating steadily in his chest, the thrill of sneaking up on her stirring something dark inside him. He reached into his bag, picking up the flashlight with ease, his rough fingers brushing against the cool metal.

He considered leaving it there for her to find but decided against it. She didn’t deserve to fumble around in the dark. Not on his watch.

Instead, he stepped toward the front of her tent, staying just out of her line of sight.

He placed the flashlight down carefully, making sure it was in a spot where she’d see it right away.

Then, he stepped back, blending into the shadows, watching her from his cover.

The satisfaction he felt when she spotted the flashlight was immediate, that small spark of pleasure flaring up in his chest as she picked it up, her face lighting up with a smile.

She thought she’d just found it by chance, like it was some kind of lucky accident.

Joel’s chest tightened at the sight of her, the tension in his muscles easing for a moment as he watched her laugh softly, holding the flashlight like a prize.

Sweet, sweet girl, he thought, his lips twitching into a small, satisfied smile.

Helping her, watching her without her knowing—it stirred something in him, something deeper than just the need to protect.

He liked seeing her happy, seeing that soft, innocent smile on her face.

And maybe, just maybe, he liked knowing that he had a part in it.

But as she continued with her setup, completely oblivious to his presence, Joel’s satisfaction turned to frustration.

She was too trusting, too naive. Anyone could sneak up on her like this—hell, anyone could do worse. The thought made his stomach churn.

She was easy prey. He could see it. Anyone with the wrong intentions would see it.

That didn’t sit right with him. She should have been more aware, should have been on edge, watching her surroundings like he was.

Instead, she was just… carefree.

Smiling to herself, humming that soft tune, completely at ease.

Joel’s hand clenched around the lighter in his pocket, his thumb brushing over the ridiculous cartoon frog on the side.

He almost didn’t bring it—didn’t want to be caught with something so ridiculous—but it was the only spare lighter he had on him.

He’d groaned internally when he fished it out earlier, irritated by the childish design. But now, watching her, it felt like it fit. She was the kind of person who would laugh at something like that, who would find it cute instead of stupid.

Joel moved again, slipping the lighter out of his pocket and placing it by the fire pit while her back was still turned. He retreated quickly, his heart pounding a little faster as he watched her from the shadows.

Her reaction was immediate. She spotted the lighter, her eyes widening in surprise as she reached for it.

She held it up, inspecting the cartoon frog, and then let out a soft laugh.

Joel shifted slightly, his eyes still locked on her as she moved around the camp, still smiling to herself, still humming that soft tune.

A mix of pride and something darker twisted in his chest.

She’s doing alright, he thought, his eyes softening for just a moment.

She’s managing.

But it didn’t change the fact that she shouldn’t be out here alone. So damn easy, he thought, his grip tightening on the tree next to him.

She wouldn’t be easy prey for anyone else.

Not while he was around.

· · ────

The night had grown darker, the soft glow of her campfire flickering against the tall trees.

The shadows seemed to stretch and shift as the wind rustled through the leaves.

She was oblivious to how exposed she was—how vulnerable. Joel could see it, though, with each breath he took, his eyes fixed on her.

Then it happened.

A sudden thud and a sharp, startled yelp echoed through the still night air.

His body reacted immediately.

Joel’s heart lurched, and his mind instantly raced back to those moments he tried so hard to forget—those moments where a single sound could mean life or death.

His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. His hand reflexively reached for his knife, muscles coiled, his senses heightened. Without thinking, he moved forward, his feet silent against the earth, ready to act, ready to fight.

His breath came fast and hard as his eyes locked onto her form.

She was sitting, clutching her knee, her face twisted in a mix of pain and frustration.

“Stupid root,” she muttered to herself, clearly frustrated.

She wasn’t in any real danger—just a small cut, a scrape from tripping over one of the tree roots near her tent.But Joel couldn’t process that right away.

All he saw was blood.

And in his mind, that blood meant danger.

His fingers twitched around the handle of the knife, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as the past threatened to swallow him whole. Memories slammed into him—the screams, the gunshots, the sight of bodies crumpling to the ground.

He couldn’t lose her, too.

His mind flashed back to another time, another place, where he couldn’t protect someone. Someone who depended on him.

No. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

Not with her.

She shifted, wincing as she gingerly touched her scraped knee, bringing Joel back to the present.

His chest heaved with heavy, erratic breaths as he forced himself to focus on her—on the here and now.

She wasn’t hurt. Not really. But she was vulnerable. Alone.

And she had no idea how easily that could change.

Joel gritted his teeth, the panic still clawing at the edges of his mind, even as he crouched back into the shadows, watching her, making sure nothing else was lurking in the dark. His grip on the knife loosened, but only slightly.

Her yelp still rang in his ears, echoing in his mind like the sounds of explosions, of soldiers calling out for help, of people he couldn’t save.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to pull himself out of the spiral, but the need to protect her—to keep her safe—burned hotter than anything else. It consumed him.

Joel blinked, his eyes snapping open, refocusing on her.

She was bandaging her knee, her movements slow but steady.

She didn’t realize how close she’d come—how easy it was for something to go wrong.

She never did.

Joel swallowed hard, pushing the memories down deep where they belonged, forcing himself to stay in the present. She finally stood up, brushing herself off with a soft sigh of relief, and Joel let out a shaky breath of his own. She was okay. For now.

But that fear, that suffocating terror of losing her, lingered in his chest, gnawing at him, refusing to let go.

As Joel watched her by the fire, his mind began to drift, despite his efforts to keep it anchored in the present.

He should’ve been focused, alert, scanning for threats the way he used to on patrols. But tonight, his attention wavered, his thoughts tugging him back to a place he’d rather forget.

The darkness around him wasn’t just the night anymore.

It felt like the blackness from years ago, the same emptiness that had swallowed him whole when the world had gone to hell.

The firelight flickered against her face, soft and warm.

A shadow of something ugly crept over his chest, a weight pressing down on him as memories surfaced.

Old sounds echoed in his ears—the screams, the gunfire, the deafening silence that always followed. He blinked hard, trying to shove it all away, trying to stay here, in the now.

But the harder he fought, the more it pressed in. His jaw clenched as he inhaled deeply through his nose, his fingers digging into the ground beneath him, grounding himself.

He wasn’t back there. Not anymore. He was here, with her.

Watching her.

Focus.

But the silence around her, her obliviousness to what could be lurking in the shadows—it made him feel the same helplessness he had felt back then.

It crawled under his skin, a sickening reminder of what happened when you let your guard down, when you trusted too much.

His heart pounded in his chest as the old memories of blood and failure threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t lose control. Not here. Not now.

He was responsible for her, for keeping her safe. That’s what mattered. That’s why he was out here in the dark, crouched behind trees, sneaking around like a damn ghost.

But the sight of her, so unaware, so damn vulnerable, gnawed at the edges of his mind, warping the lines between past and present.

A flash of something dark ran through his mind—her, crumpled, broken, hurt, blood on her soft skin. He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut, fighting off the images.

No.

Not her.

It was just his mind playing tricks on him. The way it always did.

He forced his eyes open again, and there she was—still sitting by the fire, completely unaware of his presence. Alive. Unhurt. Fine.

But the fear wouldn’t leave him.

He’d seen too much, lost too much. And he couldn’t shake the thought that she was going to slip through his fingers just like everything else had. His muscles tensed, his hands shaking slightly as his breath came faster.

He had to stay calm, had to stay in control. But the firelight flickered against her skin, and the memory of another fire, another moment he couldn’t change, flickered in his mind.

He was back there, just for a moment—back in the dirt, the weight of the gun in his hands, the scent of burning wood and flesh thick in the air.

He blinked, shaking his head, trying to drag himself out of it. His fingers curled into fists, grounding himself in the rough texture of the earth beneath him.

She’s not them, he reminded himself again, his breath coming fast and ragged. She’s not them. She’s here. You can protect her.

But the fear was relentless.

His need to protect her was more than just that. It was the only thing tethering him to reality, to something other than the nightmares.

If he could keep her safe, if he could make sure nothing happened to her, then maybe he wouldn’t have to drown in the guilt and the memories that haunted him every night.

Joel wiped a hand across his face, the weight of it all pressing down on him as he forced himself to focus on her again.

His chest rose and fell with shaky breaths as he stood up, retreating back to the shadows. He would watch her, make sure nothing happened to her.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay for one more night.

· · ────

Joel’s breath hitched as he crouched in the shadows, his eyes darting toward every shift in the wind, every rustle of leaves.

Something wasn’t right.

The air felt thick, oppressive, like it was charged with danger, and his gut twisted painfully. He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing, but the nagging fear only grew stronger.

Something was out there. Someone was watching.

His mind flickered back to the war—how quiet the enemy could be, how they could slip through the trees, undetected until it was too late.

He was trained for this. He knew when something was lurking, waiting to strike. But this wasn’t like before. This was worse.

Joel’s jaw clenched as he scanned the treeline, eyes narrowing at the dark silhouettes of the forest.

The shadows moved, shifted in ways that didn’t make sense.

His heart pounded in his chest, a cold sweat trickling down his neck.

They're out there. They want her. They couldn't take you - now they want her.

They’ll take her if you don’t move now.

The thought gripped him like a vice, and before he could stop himself, Joel was on his feet, moving toward her camp.

His hand was still wrapped tightly around his knife, his breath heavy and ragged as he stepped closer. His heart hammered against his ribs, every step bringing him closer to the firelight.

He could see her now—still by the tent, oblivious to what was out there, what was coming. He was sure of it.

The shadows… they were moving too fast. Too wrong. The enemy was here. He knew it.

His eyes widened, panic swelling in his chest. Move faster. Move before they take her.

“Joel?”

Her voice was soft, surprised, and completely unaware of the danger as she turned to face him. Her brow furrowed slightly, confusion flashing across her face as she stepped toward him.

But all he could see were the shadows.

Circling. Closing in.

Joel lunged forward, grabbing her arm with a firm, desperate grip. “We need to go,” he growled, his voice rough and frantic.

“What? Joel—”

“They’re here. Right there in the trees,” he rasped, eyes wild, scanning the darkness behind her. “We need to leave now. It’s not safe.”

She froze, her eyes wide with confusion as she looked around, trying to see what he saw. “I don’t—there’s nothing out there—”

“They’re coming for you,” Joel cut her off, his voice urgent, the raw panic clear in every word. His grip tightened on her arm, and for a moment, the fear in his eyes startled her more than his words.

“Joel, wait,” she said, her voice shaky, but she didn’t pull away. She could feel his hand trembling against her skin, his breath coming out in heavy, uneven bursts.

Her heart raced in her chest as she realized something was wrong. Really wrong.

There was no one in the trees. There were no shadows creeping toward her.

But Joel—he believed it.

She could see it in his eyes, in the way his muscles tensed, the way he scanned the darkness like a man hunted.

He wasn’t seeing what was real. He was lost in something else—something dark and terrifying.

Her stomach twisted with a mix of fear and empathy.

Joel wasn’t trying to scare her. He wasn’t trying to hurt her.

He was trying to save her.

But from what?

Joel’s eyes were wild, scanning the tree line as if any second something was going to leap out and drag her away. His grip on her arm tightened, his knuckles white, and his breathing erratic. She could feel the tension radiating off him, his whole body taut like a coiled spring ready to snap.

The way his gaze darted around, the sheer panic in his voice—she could tell he wasn’t seeing the same world she was.

“They’re here,” he repeated, his voice barely more than a growl. “Don’t you see ‘em? They’re in the trees, waitin’ for their chance. They’re comin’ for you. We gotta go, now.”

Her stomach flipped. She couldn’t see anything. The trees were still, the night was calm—nothing moved except the gentle sway of the branches in the breeze. There were no shadows, no figures lurking in the darkness.

But Joel… he was seeing something. Something awful.

For a moment, panic swelled in her chest, the weight of his fear pressing down on her like a heavy stone.

She wanted to pull away, to run, but she couldn’t leave him like this. His mind was trapped in whatever nightmare had a hold on him, and the only thing that seemed real to him was her.

He thought he was protecting her.

“Joel, listen to me,” she said softly, even as her heart raced. “There’s no one out there. It’s just us.”

But he shook his head violently, his eyes wide, unblinking. “No, no, no, you’re wrong.” His voice was strained, and for a second, she thought he might completely lose it. “They’re watchin’… waitin’. I can’t let ‘em take you. You have to come with me now.”

Her pulse thrummed in her ears, her breath quickening as she watched the battle raging behind his eyes. He was lost in something she couldn’t reach.

She glanced at the woods, her eyes scanning the same tree line, trying to see what he saw. But there was nothing. Only shadows and silence.

“Okay,” she said quietly, forcing herself to stay calm, though her fingers trembled as she gently placed her hand on his. “We’ll go. We’ll leave, alright? But you have to calm down.”

He blinked, his breath coming in harsh, ragged bursts. His grip on her arm loosened, but only a little. His eyes flickered between her and the darkened woods, uncertainty clouding his face.

“Just breathe, Joel,” she whispered, keeping her voice steady, even though the fear still crawled beneath her skin. “We’ll go. I’m right here. Just breathe.”

For a moment, Joel seemed to hesitate, his gaze shifting between her and the unseen threat in the trees. His body was still rigid, his muscles coiled with tension, but her voice—her touch—seemed to reach him, if only just a little.

She squeezed his hand gently, her heart pounding in her chest.

“We’ll be okay, Joel. But I need you to calm down. I need you to help me. I can’t do this without you.”

“You’re the only one who can save me,” she whispered, forcing the words through her tightening throat.

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since this episode started. His eyes were still clouded with panic, but there was something else there now—something raw, almost vulnerable.

She was giving him what he needed: a sense of control, of purpose. If playing along helped ease his fear, she’d do it. She’d make him feel like he was saving her.

She didn’t let go of his hand. “Let’s go, okay? We’ll go to the car, and we’ll get out of here.”

Joel hesitated for another beat, his eyes darting back to the trees one last time before he nodded slowly. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice strained but quieter now. “But we need to move. Now.”

“Okay,” she agreed, giving him a small, shaky smile. “We’ll go.”

Her heart was still pounding, but she felt a wave of relief as his grip on her arm loosened.

The whole time, Joel’s eyes remained locked on the trees, his paranoia still burning beneath the surface.

She didn’t know what had triggered him, didn’t know what demons had clawed their way into his mind. But she knew one thing for certain—Joel wasn’t in control right now. His fear was.

And as they made their way toward the car, she glanced up at him, her mind racing.

He wasn’t just scared. He was terrified—terrified for her.

But she didn’t let go of his hand, squeezing it gently to pull him back, to ground him in the present. and uncertain, “ I can’t let them take you.”

“They won’t,” she promised, even though the terror in his voice made her own heart race.

“They won’t because you’re here. But I need you to focus on me, alright? Focus on keeping me safe.”

Joel’s eyes flickered again, his shoulders stiff with tension, but he nodded slowly, as if trying to pull himself out of the dark place he’d fallen into.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

She shook her head, brushing it off. “You don’t need to be sorry. Just stay with me, okay?”

They reached the car, and she gently guided him toward the passenger seat, her hand still resting lightly on his arm. He hesitated, looking back at the woods one more time, his brow furrowed in deep suspicion.

But when she opened the car door, he finally climbed inside, his breathing still uneven, but not as frantic as before.

As she slid into the driver’s seat, she glanced over at him, her mind racing.

She didn’t know what exactly had triggered him, but she knew she had to get him away from here, had to bring him back to some kind of safety.

He needs help, she thought again, her heart heavy with the weight of the realization.

And despite everything, she couldn’t help but feel the strange mix of fear and concern that tied them together in this moment.

· · ────

Joel’s fingers twitched, his hands balling into fists in his lap as he stared out the windshield, still scanning the woods. The shadows played tricks on his mind, flickering with movement that wasn’t really there.

His chest was tight, his pulse still pounding in his ears.

But when he looked over at her, sitting there, waiting for him to calm down, something inside him clicked.

He couldn’t let her drive. Not like this. Not when the road might not be safe.

“Move over,” he muttered, his voice rough, but less frantic now.

He reached for the keys in the ignition, and she blinked in surprise, her brows furrowing as she glanced at him.

“Joel—”

“I’ll drive,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.

His gaze flicked toward the dark trees again, the unease still crawling under his skin, but there was a steady determination in his voice now.

“I need to make sure we get outta here.”

For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes soft with concern as she studied his face.

But then she gave a small nod, understanding that he needed this—needed to feel like he was in control again.

Wordlessly, she slid over to the passenger seat, and Joel settled behind the wheel, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

He didn’t waste any time, starting the car and pulling onto the narrow dirt road.

The tires crunched over the gravel as they drove away from the campsite, the darkness closing in around them, but Joel’s focus was sharp now.

His jaw clenched as he kept his eyes on the road, his mind still racing, still half-expecting something to jump out from the shadows.

But there was something grounding about the feel of the wheel beneath his hands, the engine rumbling under his control.

“She’s safe,” he reminded himself. “I’m getting her out.”

The thought repeated in his mind like a mantra, pushing back the lingering panic that had gripped him so tightly just moments before.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Not now. Not ever.

He glanced over at her, just for a second, seeing the way she sat quietly beside him, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes flicking between him and the road.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t press him, but he could feel her presence calming him, bringing him back to the present.

But beneath the surface, the fear still simmered, the paranoia still gnawing at him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still out there, watching, waiting. And that made his grip on the wheel tighten even more.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear.

She glanced at him, her expression softening. “You don’t have to apologize, Joel.”

But he did. He had to apologize for putting her in danger, for not being able to protect her. He wasn’t enough, not in that moment. And that thought alone ate at him, twisting in his gut.

The road stretched out in front of them, the trees looming in the distance, and Joel’s mind remained focused, laser-sharp, as he drove them toward safety.

Toward his home.

Where he could keep an eye on her.

Where he could make sure nothing would ever hurt her.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

well…. that was intense.

(she’s better than me I would’ve ran away screaming)

Horny, people - I hope you can forgive me for not having real smut in this yet.. next chapter is going to be heated, get ready - it’s finally happening.

Again - comment if you want me to remind you when there’s a next part!

xoxo

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Less that a week to go!! Happy fraturday, and a very happy birthday to Mr Guzman. Here's another round of the fic I've been reading this week, you can find previous rec lists here.

21 September 2024

ice cream before dinner by cloudydaisies is a pitch perfect Eddie POV fic as he babysits Mara and Jee-Yun following 7x10, winning them over with icecream tuesdays, love and support. I saw so many people loving on this and then caught my eye even more with some gorgeous cover art by @walkingonawire and yes, everyone was right, it absolutely melted my heart. Just a beat for beat joy of a fic, Eddie's internal journey and the sweet bond of trust and love built between the trio, as he awaits Chris' return, and allows himself to open his heart up to Buck along the way. Beautifully written and delightful!

all you're giving me is friction by @henswilsons ahhhh such a wonderful 5+1 buddie fic in which Eddie joins the 118 and Hen is a little worried that Buck's flirting with him will cross a line...seeing as he's wearing a wedding ring. This is such a fun fic with the elephant in the room...because you know what she doesn't know you know, right? And waiting for the reveal and watching it dawn on them is so brilliantly funny in execution.

wherever you roam (you'll always want me) by @buddieism canon divergent following 7x05 in which Eddie would rather 'go to his grave repressed and miserable than ever take away from Buck’s happiness.' But in unpacking what would make Eddie himself happy, he comes to realise with some help and a look at what brought him to this point in his life that that might not be up to him. Aching and painfully cathartic and ultimately full of hope.

the cat's meow by @exhuastedpigeon GIVE. EDDIE. A CAT. (Do it for me!) When Eddie finds a box of abandoned kittens at the side of the road, he takes them to the shelter...but falls ass over teakettle for little calico Pinto (like the beans). Reluctant to let on to the existence of his new furry little friend, he keeps her close to his chest. When Buck finds out, he's unable to resist falling under the spell of her charms...or her owners. Sweet, romantic fluff...with such great character voice....and whiskers!! So freakin' cute.

glass on the pavement under my shoe by @doitbuckley a Buck POV fic under Gerrards command, taking a risk that puts his life on the line to save Eddie. But all these years later, he's not sure he's so readily okay with having to say goodbye for real, even in the line of duty. Some lyrically written introspection and growth from Buck here in the way he understands and embraces life vs death situations.

Hot Ghost Problems by @ebjameston in which Eddie is a natural born witch in a world where magic isn't a secret though he keeps it close to his chest. But on joining the 118 he meets Buck...only Evan Buckley is the firefighter who died that Eddie was here to replace. Tethered together by magic, Buck refuses to move on, and in staying around he saves Eddie along the way. With some excellent Diaz sister cameos, a brilliantly intriguing mystery, and a whole heap of magic, they race against time to save the day and might just get to keep their happily ever after. I had such a great time reading this one from 2023!

the tortured poets department by @colonoscopys more magic! 'The first time Buck touched him, Eddie blew an ambulance up.' Magic sparks under his skin, and falling in love with Buck feels a lot like when it overwhelms him with feeling. Eddie thinks he's doing a good job keeping it secret, but somethings are obvious to those who know what signs to look out for. This one felt like a little bit of magic shared, sweet, sexy and full of all sorts of sparks!

Okay let's leave it there for this week. Next week we'll have a new episode to play with! Can you believe it? I'll be on a little work trip and then a vacation so looking forward to joining you all in the sandbox soon. So excited to be back with the firefam again.

[skibasyndrome]

wilmon + "sometimes wille can almost pretend that the heat of his skin seeping into the marble isn't his, that the coldness is in his fingers and the stone is warming them up"

FINALLY I'm getting to this snippet. This is part of a universe that @grapehyasynth, @themarsbar and I cooked up in a frenzy, in which Wille is a sculptor who is reincarnated again and again, while Simon, the love of his life, his soulmate, his muse, isn't. And so, in an attempt to keep his memory alive, to keep a fraction of the Simon he knew in the world with him, to feel close to him again, Wille spends every waking hour perfecting his art. Lovingly named the Wille sculptor AU. I hope you enjoy!

and because I don't feel casual about this AT ALL there's already a moodboard (please please PLEASE notice those few sculptures that are like EXACT replications of Simon.... sculptor Wille is alive and out there, I tell you)

Sometimes Wille can almost pretend that the heat of his skin seeping into the marble isn't his, that the coldness is in his fingers and the stone is warming them up. If he stays up long enough, until all corners of the workshop but one are engulfed in darkness, and the only oil lamp on his work bench is casting a warm glow onto the cold stone, then he can almost believe it. When the white surface turns orange in the soft light, the shadows evermoving in the flickering shine, Wille can let his imagination run wild, can let his mind play tricks on him. It's in those moments, late at night, that he almost has him again. Wille lets the sanding block glide over the slope of Simon's shoulder, softly, gently, like the skin is real, warm, pliable under his touch, like this is the body of the man he loves and loves and loves. And when Wille picks up the brush, dusts off the smooth curve of Simon's clavicle, it is him, warm, dipped in golden light. Unable to stop himself, Wille puts his hand there, index finger tracing the collarbone, thumb grazing over his adam's apple. In another life, the skin would have moved with the vibrations of laughter or of Simon saying his name. In another life, Wille would have felt Simon's hands on his own shoulder, perhaps on his upper arm, holding him close, keeping him there. Wille lets his eyes slip closed. If he keeps the touches light, if he only lets the pads of his fingers trace along the stone, it's almost like he's there again, caressing Simon and committing the dimensions of his body to memory. When he closes his eyes, drowns out the silence, listens to his own breathing, he can almost convince himself that it's Simon he's hearing. Quiet and warm and alive on his bed next to him. He knows he shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't get caught up in these types of musings, should put an end to the fantasy before it takes over him, before the rib-cage-crushing sense of dread sets in, the one that always comes afterwards. But he doesn't stop. Eyes pressed firmly shut, he moves a trembling hand upwards, just lightly following the column of Simon's throat, feeling silky smoothness, gentle curves. And it's enough, just about enough, the light touch that doesn't let him feel the unyielding firmness, to bring him back. Wille's breath gets caught in his throat, and if he only puts enough thought to it, he can will the breath into the marble in front of him.

His palm settles on the polished surface of the statue's cheek, too cold, much too cold at first. Wille presses his eyes shut tight, letting his warmth sink into the stone. It's Simon, he's just been outside in the cold winter air and Wille has pulled him inside, worried he'll catch a cold. Wille is trying to warm him up, trying to make sure he'll be okay. Wille's thumb moves as if of its own accord, tracing the bridge of Simon's nose, so so cold from the wind outside, then catching on the divot between his lips. And Wille can't resist. He's spent so long, has spent days just trying to get them right, those full, soft lips, trying to recreate the perfectly rounded edges of his cupid's bow. Has spent hours remembering what Simon's smile tastes like, and even more hours trying to translate the feeling into strokes of his chisel. Here they are now, perfect, so perfect under his touch that Wille chances a look. And even like this, especially like this, glowing in golden light and with the shadows cast by Wille's fingers over them, this is him. If Wille could only... Against his own better judgement he surges forward, has to angle his head up - first mistake, he never had to tilt his head up like this with Simon - and melts against those lips, molds his own along the soft curves. But it's wrong, this is all wrong. The stone is cold, so icy cold it's not from winter air, so hard and unforgiving that it isn't, it can't be him. The vision shatters into a million little shards that cut Wille, cut his lips, his throat, his chest, cut him to the core. He stumbles back, a gasp rushing out of him. Cold, it's too cold, he's too cold, the stone is too cold and nothing he can try to tell himself could change that.

Thanks Martina for planting this beautiful gorgeous stunning HEART-WRENCHING sentence for me!!!! My gratitude knows no bounds (and like I said, love is stored in the AUs you push around with friends). 💜💜💜 I definitely, definitely wanna turn this into a longer fic because holy SHIT!!!!

Send me "Wilmon" + a sentence and I'll write you (very likely a lot more than) 5 more sentences!

[crownmemes]

Daddy Issues Sentences, Vol. 3

(Sentences for discussing the effects of an absent parent and/or confronting one's own father. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"We need to discuss your father."

"You don't care about your family's legacy?"

"What is it in me you hate so much? All I ever wanted was to live up to you."

"If you bring disgrace on this family, you will regret it."

"Do you think if I were more like you, he would have loved me more? If I was normal?"

"I spent my childhood trying to work out if my dad was only mean or just plain bad."

"I don't want to be a burden to you..."

"When I was a boy, I wanted to impress my dad so much. No matter how hard I tried, I always fell short."

"You're too hard on yourself. You always have been."

"Our parents aren't perfect, but they're trying their best."

"I don't underestimate my father, by the way. I understand him - sometimes more than I want to."

"From what my mum told me, I think you're my dad."

"I love you, I really do. It's just, somehow, it's hard for me to show that when you're here."

"We are not our parents until we choose to be."

"Even now, he still wants nothing to do with me."

"I know that rationally he isn't responsible for all the bad things in the world, but he is responsible for some of them."

"My dad doesn't even like me."

"Have you ever told your father what you just told me?"

"Stop. You're not my father."

"Is he really your father? He's scary."

"When was the last time your father told you he loved you?"

"Look at you; relieved you didn't disappoint. That's a weakness."

"Do you think our fathers would be proud of us?"

"What is a son's duty to his father? To respect him, even if he doesn't deserve our respect?"

"Your faults as a son are my failure as a father."

"You've done more for me in the past few days than my father's done in my entire life."

"I know this sounds impossible, but you have to talk to him. You have to show him who you are - what your heart is."

[timesomewhere]

in honour of the West End's next to normal closing today I've finally proof-read my 'things I noticed/general thoughts' post that's been sitting in my drafts since I saw it earlier this month. it's very long I'm very sorry.

Act One:

it was really fun watching this show in September given that there's two references to it in the first song

I adore the monologue about the pills that Dr. Fine gives during 'Who's Crazy'. it's rhythmic and funny yet also unnerving. It's such a quick and impactful way to summarise what Diana has been through for the past 16 years

Gabe does a 'one of your French girls' pose on the kitchen counter under the cabinets during 'My Psychopharmacologist and I'

Jamie Parker made direct eye contact with me during the last part of 'Who's Crazy' and it was one of the most intense experiences of my life

I might just be dense but I don't get the point of the neon sign that says 'Fine' which drops down during the Dr. Fine scene. Initially I thought that then one would drop down saying 'Madden' during his scenes to help people differentiate between the doctors but then it didn't so it just feels like a weird extra prop

speaking of random props, shout out to the iPad on the table in the opening scene which Gabe pretty much instantly takes away after telling Diana that she shouldn't obsess over tragic news stories and is then never seen again as far as I remember

Dan in the flashback scene being such an optimist about Diana's pregnancy and the future they're gonna have together... soul-crushing

Caissie Levy's 'I Miss The Mountains.' Holy Shit.

I love how Diana and Gabe are the only characters who sing on/stand on the table. it's as though it's this extra dimension of the house that only they have access to and it's a really neat and subtle way to show that they relate to each other in ways other characters don't

'It's Gonna Be Good' is so underrated. Jamie Parker's somewhat genuine optimism becoming optimism-through-gritted-teeth is incredibly acted

The way Jamie delivers the first line of 'He's Not Here' is devastating. the heaviness of that moment as you feel the audience around you realising what's just happened is something I'll remember forever

Gabe body-blocking Dan from Diana during 'I Am the One' is such good staging. People talk about how Jack Wolfe plays Gabe with a lot of layers and a lot of simultaneous contradiction and this song is one of the best examples of that. how Jack manages to project a character who is goading his father and protecting his mother at the same time is beyond me

also Jack has maybe half-an-inch on Jamie which obviously isn't something the actors control but it does makes Gabe seem just that bit more threatening when he's getting in Dan's face

for the first part of Superboy and the Invisible Girl when it's just Natalie singing, Gabe is actively laughing. He's totally unperturbed by her efforts to make herself seen to her mother. it's only when Diana replies, particularly when she says "you're our little pride and joy, our perfect plan" that you see his face drop and you see him trying to figure out a way to stop her from getting Diana's attention which then results in him kicking her off the melody in her own song

"I'll hurt you" being directed at Dan and "I'll heal you" being directed at Diana as Gabe gently touches her face gets me so bad. but the most painful part of 'I'm Alive' for me is when Gabe looks at Dan as he says "I'm the perfect stranger who knows you too well." that's the first time you realise that perhaps Gabe doesn't just impact Diana, and there's something much larger at play

Caissie and Jack W's voices harmonising on 'Catch Me I'm Falling' was one of my favourite parts of the whole show. Their voices are so magical together and their mother/son chemistry is incredible

The 'I Dreamed A Dance' into 'There's a World' sequence is one of the most tragically beautiful things I've ever witnessed. I went into the show knowing what Gabe was trying to achieve during 'There's A World' and yet Jack's voice is so beautifully haunting you totally forget you're supposed to root against Gabe in that moment

Jamie Parker's 'I've Been' is some of the best acting through song out there. Interestingly my friend and I had very different interpretation's of what Gabe's horrified reaction to the blood meant. I viewed it as him being upset about what he convinced Diana to do - he doesn't like seeing her hurt. Whereas my friend saw it as him being angry at himself that she didn't manage to follow through, meaning that he has failed to regain control over her life

'I'm no sociopath, I'm no Sylvia Plath. I ain't no Frances Farmer kind of find for you' is one of the best musical theatre lyrics of all time. I genuinely don't know why I Miss The Mountains is the 'big song' known from N2N over 'Didn't I See This Movie?', it's just so good

Natalie's 'She trusts you!' line is heartbreaking, I was basically watching that entire scene through my fingers because of how high the emotion was

Act Two:

'Pfizer's woman of the year' will in fact be peak comedy every time. Eleanor's delivery is *chef's kiss*

Gabe having just one line in 'Wish I Were Here', and that line being 'Wish I were here.' Yeah. I feel very normal about that.

Natalie's line of "Can I hide my stupid hunger, fake some confidence and cheer?" being pretty much exactly what Gabe has done throughout the entirety of act 1

"And you're not a scary rockstar anymore" got one of the biggest laughs at both of the shows I went to

Dan's desperation during 'Better Than Before.' He is simultaneously trying to cajole Diana into remembering and get Natalie to be more positive. This one song really highlights how he's being pulled in a million different directions while trying to hold it all together and Jamie portrays that so well

Aftershocks. Wow. The way the last word of each line echoes throughout the theatre is great sound design. I've been in exam halls louder than the audience during that song. Holding a room that captive as a silhouette is quite the feat Jack Wolfe you will always be famous

"I don't know where the fucking pieces go" as Diana pushes things off the table as if there's a real jigsaw there that she's rage quitting and choosing to give up on is such a nice detail

"Have you talked of your depression, your delusions and your son?" The gasp in the theatre both times was sickening

the response of "good' in reply to "name?" when technically that was part of his name as they are the "Goodmans". I don't really have a point here I just think it's neat

The 'It's Gonna Be Good" reprise was one of my favourite Dan/Diana moments. Caissie and Jamie are really pushing each other to their emotional limits and they handle it so well

The first "Why stay?" is so fragile as Diana sits against the kitchen island. Also interesting given that Dan and Gabe will also sit against there later when they are at their lowest point in the story. The idea of the characters crawling to the 'centre/heart' of the home when they are at their weakest

"This is one old game that I can play so well" is the line that has stuck the most with me throughout the show. Jack's delivery of it while striding across the kitchen table - seemingly totally invincible - is crazy.

how Caissie manages to deliver "you shrugged and said that no one really knows" with humour and desperation at the same time is amazing

When Gabe and Diana stand on the table and if they let go of one another they'll fall. yeahhhhh.....

Gabe's realisation that Diana isn't going to give up on getting better. Totally collapsing in on himself and beginning to cry. How you manage to feel bad for him after all the destruction he's caused is wild

Diana's "maybe I'm tired of the game" relating back to Gabe's "this is one old game that I can play so well"

the lyrics in 'Hey #3' clearly reflecting things Diana has done, Henry cutting Natalie off at "bleeding in the bathtub"

"I am the one who'll heal you" being said to Dan not Diana this time

"Why didn't you go with her?" is the most devastating line in the whole musical I said what I said. Jamie's delivery of it is heart wrenching

the drums and bass kicking in for the loud part of I Am The One as Gabe becomes desperate to be seen once again

Jack and Jamie's acting in this moment is so intense. there's a moment where it's genuinely feels as though only one of them can make it out of the interaction alive

Jack's emphasis on the word 'loved' in the line "I am the one who loved you" nearly killed me on the spot. how somebody can deliver a line so desperately while remaining pitch perfect is unfair

Natalie coming in to kiss Dan's head at the start of 'Light' like Gabe kisses Diana's in the first scene. I'm such a sucker for a gut punching

the "And are they real?" line about Diana's parent's from Henry gets such a loud reaction from the audience. Some people laugh immediately, some people clearly get shocked out of their sobs. so good

In conclusion, this is my favourite musical of all time and I'm going to be so annoying waiting for the pro-shot to come out

[descendantsramblings]

Im gonna join the Morgie Male reader fans and also request something xD

Please consider writing a story where Male reader and Morgie are dating but Morgie is just always talking about Uliana and constantly trying to impress her etc and Reader feels unvalued and like Morgie is actually in love with uliana and not him so drama i guess

I like hurting myself as you can guess 🙂

-emil

Let’s not enjoy that!!!! But no I love some good angst; I’ve got you. You’re always welcome in my inbox sugar 💛

Second Place

Morgie le Fay x Reader

Pronouns used: he/him/his

Summary: just once he wants to feel like he’s not his boyfriend’s second choice

Warnings: angst, underage drinking (depending on where you are ig), Morgie isn't purposely a bad boyfriend he's just stupid. Pet names, Bestie Hades and Hook because the boys gotta stick together

Word Count: 2.3K

    His fingertips brush over different silks and starched cottons as he follows his boyfriend around the store, barely paying attention to dress shirts around him. How could he? How could the boy ever focus on the task at hand when all it did was ground his insecurities into his bones? Morgie is taking the lead as he walks through the store, occasionally lifting different button ups to feel them. Ones that seem to pique his interest led to him holding them against his chest, raising a brow to his boyfriend to silently ask his opinion. And (Y/n) does his best to respond, though it comes out more as hums and silent nods than true responses. His heart isn’t in this, he can’t focus on something like this. It is so incredibly obvious that he doesn’t want to be here, and maybe if Morgie would actually look at him instead of through him, the boy might notice. He won’t though, lord knows the sorcerer doesn’t have the time to care. Not when his task at hand is so dire. Uliana’s birthday party is only a week away, how could he think about anything but making sure it’s perfect?

   Obviously Morgie can’t look a mess, he just has to be in something new. And the gift has to just be perfect, he has to outshine everyone. Of course he does, he always does. Uliana was the sun in his solar system, and (Y/n) was barely even the tides that the moon was occupied with pulling. How could Morgie ever remember to pull the tides when he was so busy reflecting the light of the sun? How could he dare to wear something the sea witch has seen already when her eighteenth birthday was such a big deal? “Babe, you are being extremely unhelpful right now,” Morgie grumbles the words as he’s putting an honestly kind of atrocious golden silk shirt down. He’s turning away from his lover, venturing even further into the store. “Sorry, I’m just kind of tired. Didn’t sleep well,” his voice is far off to the sorcerer though, the boy too wrapped up in his own world to pay attention to a word that falls off of his fellow villain’s lips. “Once we find the right shirt we can go.” (Y/n) sighs, giving the boy a curt nod that he doesn’t even see. They’d been out shopping for four hours now, the bags in his arms were surely going to cut off his circulation soon and Morgie was still just as tuned into what he was doing as he was when they left the dorms. 

   They were supposed to see that new Nightmare on Elm Street sequel that (Y/n) had been dying to see, but now there would only be one showing left until the mall closed and it started in twenty minutes. He guesses he can kiss that plan goodbye, why would what he wants matter when Uliana was in the frame. He always fell behind her in Morgie’s priority list, he should have known that. Why would he dare to ask his boyfriend out this soon to Uliana’s “most important birthday yet”? He should have known better. The early weeks of November always took to Morgie being far more engrossed in his friend than his partner, he should have known better. 

    “Babe, can you please at least give me a color option? I’m drowning in options here!” He spares (Y/n) a look over his shoulder as he speaks, reaching back to grab his boyfriend’s hand to keep him behind him. “Go green, Uliana wears some green too,” the snarky tone has Morgie’s brows furrowing. If he looked back he’d see the way that he was shaking his head as he talked, sass falling off of every word. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “Yeah, let’s just find you a shirt, Morgz.” 

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  If the crew of the Jolly Roger would be known for nothing else, they would still go down in history for the parties they threw during their time at Merlin Academy. So of course, they would be the true hosts of Uliana’s birthday party, and it was set to be a rager based on that alone. Of course, every villain party was known to be a good one. Obviously the group known for breaking rules and dark magic would have a reputation of throwing good parties. But a pirate party? Those could go on all night, with just about every liquor you could think of. And though no one ever saw them bring a blender in, there would be daiquiris and piña coladas flowing all night just so they could convince you that rum was good. Surely once he was a few daiquiris deep Hook would be sliding a shot of rum into his hand with the false promise that he’ll like it this time. Though he’s yet to actually like it. 

    He might need it tonight though, considering that in the hour that they’ve been here Morgie has spoken to him twice. He’s too busy being Uliana’s dog, running around and doing whatever the sea witch asks of him. So (Y/n) has occupied himself with leaning on a wall, squinting as the blue and green lights are far too bright compared to their normal tones. He barely notices that someone has idled up beside him until there's a solo cup of what he’s pretty sure is a mango daiquiri under his nose. “You look like you need this,” Hades’ gruff voice rings out beside him, the soft sound of metal spikes against the wall accompanying it. He reaches out and nearly snatches it, sipping the drink and giving it a hum of approval. Definitely mango, god bless Hook for that one. “I might just love you, you know that?” He leans his shoulder against the god’s with a smile, sparing him a glance. “Yeah, someone has to take care of you. Shouldn’t your little boyfriend be getting you drinks?” He glances around, shaking the other villain off of him to instead slide an arm around him, “Or at least be near you? Where is he?” 

    A sound that Hades thinks is supposed to be a laugh slips out of the other boy’s lips, the boy seeming to snuggle into the god’s side. “Oh you haven’t heard? It’s his wife’s birthday. It would be wrong of him to act like he cares about the side piece on such an important day.” As (Y/n) finishes the statement he nods aggressively towards where Uliana is sipping on a piña colada on a make-shift throne. She’s glowing, talking to Maleficent and Morgie about god knows what with a tiara sitting on her head. At least she’s having a good time with Morgie’s attention, no one else seemed to be getting any of it this week. “Oh ouch,” Hades forces out a fake hiss as he taps the other villain’s hip with his own, “Calling yourself the side piece?” 

   “Yeah well,” he shrugs, tearing his eyes away from the green silk shirt and carefully styled hair across the room, “That’s what it feels like.” Hades shakes his head, letting his hand slide up and down his friend’s bicep, “Now, you know that’s not true.” “Yet.” The singular word earns his arm a squeeze and gains him a verbal scoff from his friend. “Morgie’s little snake heart beats for you. He’s an idiot, but he does love you, you’ve gotta know that.” (Y/n) bites his lip, sliding out from under Hades’ arm. “Shouldn’t Hook have tried to force a shot of rum down my throat by now? Where is he at?” He’s walking away as Hades watches him with a disappointed face. He did know that Morgie loves him, didn’t he? Hades needs to keep an eye on him.

   Hook is at the make-shift bar in the back of the hide out when the other villain finds him, pouring two shots in the comical little solo cup shot glasses that he keeps handy for nights like this. “Where have you been? It’s not a villain party if I don’t take a shot with you before I sneak out.” He smirks, slipping one of the two shot glasses into his friend’s hand before lifting his own. “How did you get Morgie to agree to leave this early?” At the mention of his boyfriend’s name, (Y/n) slams the bottom of the shot glass in their hand against the table before them, quickly throwing the rum back before he can process so much as the taste. A strong sip from his daiquiri follows it, sliding the shot glass across the table. “Another, Cap.” It makes thick brows burrow, grabbing the rum nonetheless as he stares at him. “Finally finding a taste for it, eh?” The boy shakes his head, “I just need it. I’d like to be able to sleep when I finally hit my dorm, easier if my mind is swimming.” 

   It makes the pirate beside him frown, sliding another shot to him, “That’s a lot of alcohol compared to what you normally go for, Lad. Morgie is walking you home, right?” It draws a bitter laugh out of the slightly tipsy villain, “No it’s his wife’s birthday. He’s far too busy for me.” As Hook opens his mouth to argue, Hades comes up behind (Y/n), his hands sliding onto the boy’s shoulders. “I’ll walk you home, idiot. As long as the daiquiri stays here.” It elicits a whine from the villain in his grip, (Y/n) leaning his head back to pout at him, “No fair. You gave it to me.” And Hades scoffs, “Yeah, to drink here. You’re not drinking on our walk back to yours.” Hook wants to argue that his friends shouldn’t leave yet, but something about (Y/n) simply isn’t right. Of course, there was always a bitter air around the topic of Morgie and Uliana but this level was new. He didn’t normally act like this, and if he was this set on getting drunk over it, the boy needed to go home. So instead of arguing, he raises his shot glass to (Y/n). The two villains knocking the little glasses against each other. “Down the hatch, Darling,” he smirks, watching the way that his friend raises his brows with his own shot. And they knock them back, the same way they had at every party the group had ever thrown. 

    Of course, normally Hook didn’t take (Y/n)’s drink so it “didn’t go to waste” right after. The boy wishing Hook a good night before double checking that the god behind him truly didn’t mind walking him home. Something that the villain was sure he could do alone but there was no way that Hades or Hook would allow that, not when the boy was like this. So Hades promises Hook that he’ll be right back and wraps a hand around (Y/n)’s shoulders to drag him out of the party and back into the chilly November air. 

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     (Y/n) knew his limits well enough, he was lucky for that. The second he hit the pillow he was asleep, and now he was awake without even the ghost of a hangover looming over him. Not that he wanted to be awake, he would much rather spend his Sunday wasting the day away in his bed. But how was he meant to sleep with that incessant knocking at his door? So with a begrudging whine and stiff joints, the boy finds himself swinging his legs over the side of his bed. The knocking only seems to grow louder and more urgent as he makes his way over to the door. “I’m coming, god!” A hand reaches out to snatch the door handle, basically ripping it open. Morgie le Fay all but tumbles into his room with the motion, center of gravity being thrown off as the wood he was leaning on is ripped from him. And he looks worse for wear, sweat dampened neck and dark bags under his squinted eyes. 

   “What?” He recoils at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice as if it bit him, a pout crossing over chapped lips. “Can you quiet down? My head is killing me.” (Y/n) rolls his eyes, scoffing as he goes to close his door. “Then go home.” A foot is thrown in the path of the door, stopping him from closing his boyfriend out. “I woke up after a party without you.” There’s this odd sense of disappointment hanging off of his words, eyes seeming to pout more than his lips already did. “Yeah, I’d assume so. I left hours before you did.” Morgie pushes his way into the room at that, softly closing the door behind him. “You did?” “Yeah,” there’s a scoff dripping off his lips as he makes his way back to his bed, “Which you would have noticed if you gave me so much as a minute of thought this past week.” Morgie frowns, leaning against the door with his arms crossing over his chest, “You didn’t walk home alone, did you? You should’ve come and got me. I don’t want you to walk around at night like that.” 

   “No, Hades walked me home.” Morgie nods, looking over at the boy curling up in his bed. (Y/n) obviously trying to make himself smaller as he attempts to talk about his feelings. As if he was doing something wrong. “So why did you ask Hades instead of your boyfriend?” He cuts Morgie a look, rolling his eyes, “I didn’t ask Hades, he just knows me well enough to know when something is wrong.” Morgie raises his brows, “And I don’t know you? I know you, I can tell when something is wrong.” It earns him a laugh, a twisted and broken one that makes his skin crawl. “You do, do you? Okay, then why did we originally go to the mall last Saturday?” And his stomach falls with his confidence. How was Morgie ever meant to come back from this one?

@an-absolute-waste-of-space

[izzyspussy]

hc that the "i like fucking gingers" scene was not the only time that mickey got drunk enough to get loose lips around kev and tommy(?)

like kev, due to having slightly more background info / just like knowing ian personally, kinda puts it together. maybe mostly just subconsciously or maybe he fully figures it out.

but tommy is also like damn this guy just had the world's worst breakup and he is Going Through It and also there's some kind of Reason why he's not doing the crying at the bar thing by actually talking about the breakup itself/ex, but he just doesn't have "gay" as an assumption he would make without more prompting and he doesn't know who mickey hangs out with nevermind which of them fits the description and unexpectedly left town recently like kev does

anyway. not infrequently during his spectacular depression stage, mickey gets blackout fall-down piss drunk while "working" at the bar and starts tunelessly singing the praises of/ranting about:

redheads

uniforms

goodies-two-shoes who are secretly just as much trouble as any delinquent bad boy

perfect shots

and who cares about defining the relationship to the fucks who ain't even in it anyway? or if a guy cheats on his wife?

redheads

btw the army is just international cops. so there.

bossy types

and one more thing! brokeback mountain is a shitty fucking movie that no one even likes at all and it deserved to lose the oscar. casanova's good tho.

camo

it was always temporary. just a fantasy, you know? but he would've given anything to make it real if he could...

redheads

tommy is part sympathetic part amused. it's just such a bar regular Thing, something that just kind of automatically endears a fellow guy who's always at the bar - and anyway tommy isn't a bad guy, and mickey's heartbreak is clear. and of course, mickey has a very entertaining way with words even or maybe especially when he's not trying. he's just fucking funny. so even though after a certain point he's kind of edging into sadsack territory, tommy still kinda likes hearing him go.

meanwhile. kev is like

[arceespinkgun]

I'm sorry for this since I do hate how overrated he is in general, but I really wanted to make a post getting out my love for Prowl in the TF UK comics. He is just so clearly the best, most definitive version of the character in my opinion! Somehow, so many of the funniest moments from this continuity are Prowl-related and many of his quotes live rent-free in my head?! From jumping on a missile, to yelling at Jetfire in one of the Christmas specials ("You almost break the world record... FOR STANDING STILL!"), to thinking Jazz saying something will be "a piece of cake" is literal, that one time he yelled "SHUT UP!!!" at the Autobots and Decepticons and then added a tiny "please" afterward...!

And in my opinion the funniest panel in all of the comics is a Prowl panel where he thinks Grimlock is dumb as a brick and imagines a literal brick!

IIRC Prowl's introduction to the comics showed him trying to suggest other options than suicide when the Ark gets attacked only for Optimus to immediately ignore him, which really sets the tone for that dynamic. I was pretty surprised to see that Optimus (and later Grimlock, who is generally hilariously awful) are incredibly unstable leaders and that in almost every case I took Prowl's side in his arguments with them...?

When I say "unstable," I really mean it

He isn't perfect, but he seemed to just want to the War to end and then stay ended from what I could tell. I kind of get the sense that a fandom in-joke about Prowl being a prick may have gotten overstated and led to Prowl actually being extremely obnoxious and immoral in things like IDW, since to me here he really came across more like a character who's justified in being irritated by how other people, normally his superiors, are acting because they're endangering others. Near the end of the comics, I really didn't like that Prowl was very much treated as being wrong for trying to get it through Grimlock's thick metal skull that Decepticons are people too? This isn't going to make sense for people who haven't read these issues, but to me it felt like Grimlock was shirking his duties as a leader and then setting Prowl up to fail to teach him a lesson the hard way, and it felt pretty cruel are overly edgy to me and not in-line with how Autobot and Decepticon dynamics were portrayed earlier. I know I'm biased, but I personally thought it was brave that Prowl stood up to Grimlock, the way Blaster had much earlier on.

Going into these comics, I was really expecting to see a precursor to IDW Prowl or something, and I feel like I was misled! This version of the character feels almost like what IDW Prowl thought he was like. In the final annual story of this continuity, when Optimus actually apologizes for brushing Prowl off and explains that he's just been struggling emotionally (there's even a moment where it says, "Prowl gaped. Not only was he getting an apology, he was also getting an explanation," which really shows what kind of character Prowl is) and Optimus then says it's an honor to work with Prowl, I think I said "awww" out loud!!! And I thought it was hilarious that Prowl was so moved that he imagined a lump in his throat LMAO

"There's a ship fuelled and ready to life off, the assault team and medical crew are aboard. Prowl, I would be… honoured if you would join us," said Prime." And with that he extended a hand for Prowl to shake. There was a frozen moment or two before Prowl grabbed the proffered hand, pumping it. So charged with emotion was the moment, Prowl actually imagined a lump in a throat that he didn't possess!

I also thought Prowl was just as badass as he was hilarious: I loved it when Galvatron targeted Autobots including Prowl for having "mental flaws" by trying to use those to brainwash them into serving him and then Prowl's response was to just attack him and be like, "You forgot that we Autobots REPRESS our feelings!!!" Prowl was one of only three Autobots who ended up alive in the AU story "Rhythms of Darkness!" And he also once went back in time and had to relive his own destruction in order to stop Megatron, who he knocked out with a punch to the face:

(It's Megatron possessing Snap Trap's body). This "Prime?!" "Nope—Prowl!" *punches him in the face* is such an iconic moment to me

Prowl also has a great backstory and was even a veteran before Optimus Prime was ever leader! You can read about that in my Jazz analysis post since they share a backstory. Prowl led a team who went around freeing Decepticon-controlled territories early in the War, and was one of the most dreaded Autobots! Not this is what I like—Prowl being a "terrorist" only in the eyes of the oppressors, not a civil terrorist in peacetime like in IDW! I think it's pretty likely that Prowl's type-A personality and intense sense of responsibility was probably informed a lot by his trauma on one of those early missions going so horribly wrong, since he seems to have behaved differently back then:

Prowl leaned over to Jazz. "Did we do okay?" he asked uncertainly, hoping Jazz wouldn't interpret this as weakness. As team leader, Prowl worried constantly that he would foul up, make some decision that would end up costing lives: theirs as well as others.

I think I'm not the only one who thinks sometimes having a favorite transformer who's really popular but it's only a couple of iterations that you're not interested in (nothing against TFA Prowl at all, I like him, I'm just very neutral on TFA the show), while almost nobody seems to know about the iteration you like and what you like about the character, can sometimes feel like a bit of a curse lol That's why I felt like sharing all of this!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Expertise can't help you here.

[coquelicoq]

what i love about the Famous Actor Natori Shuuichi of it all is that...it's not just that he's famous and therefore widely recognizable wherever he goes. like yes that is very funny because he was an exorcist before he became a famous actor, which means he CHOSE, on purpose, a day job that would make it harder to hide his double life/secret identity from the hordes of his adoring public, but it's more than that. it's not just that he's famous, it's that he's famous specifically for being an ACTOR, aka a person whose job it is to dissimulate, to make believe, to inhabit roles and emotions other than his own. like he decided he was going to become as visible as possible (which again was literally not necessary! he could have gone into any other career for his day job!!) but in such a way that everyone would see him but no one would see him - they would just see his various made-up personas, including the Famous Actor Natori Shuuichi persona. i can't decide if he's a genius or if he just made so many absurd decisions that they canceled each other out and circled back around to working out. he's either playing 9-dimensional chess or he's eating the pieces. too soon to say.

[harpoonsnotspoons]

Was only going to draw one thing today but Coraline AU Strilondes called to me

[palaceoftears]

Ooh, I try, I try, I try Try to rationalize People are people But it's like you're made of angel dust

- Lacy, Olivia Rodrigo