#shame? this man has basically none

[doctorbrown]

021, a small, intimate family barbecue.

❝I've got you now, thief!❞ Verne shouts, raising a toy pistol in the air and waving it enthusiastically. Curie, a good four feet ahead of him, finally stops running to answer his shouts with a series of enthusiastic barks of her own before dropping into a play bow, as if to say catch me if you can, kid!

She has a dark bandanna tied around her neck fashioned out of one of Jules' old scarves and an eyepatch that has since shifted during her daring escape from the not-so-long arm of the law and now covers a spot on her forehead rather than her left eye. Her hat—one of Emmett's dug out of the closet from their years back in the Nineteenth Century—barely made it past the door to the backyard before slipping off her head to lay forgotten on the grass for the remainder of the afternoon.

While Jules and Verne chase down Curie for some heinous imaginary crime she's committed, Clara and Jennifer relax on the patio chairs, talking and laughing with half-chilled glasses of lemonade and iced tea quickly heating up under the summer sun.

The girls are too far away for Emmett to actually make out any of their conversation and even had they been closer, the sound of the grill and the boys' latest game of cops and robbers does wonders for drowning out most of the sound.

He lifts the cover to check on the food and a cloud of hot steam smacks him in the face.

❝Marty!❞ Emmett shouts, waving the spatula to get his attention. ❝Can you grab me one of those empty plates off the table? These are just about done. And let the boys k—❞

❝Dad!❞ Verne's timing is as impeccable as ever. ❝Marty!❞ He comes bounding over to them with Jules and Curie in tow. ❝You guys gotta see this new trick we taught Curie; it took forever for her to learn it but she's real good at it now. And Marty, you brought your skateboard right? You said you were gonna teach me some more!❞

SET THE SCENE.

[demonic0angel]

DC x DP Prompt: Family dinner with the Fenton Family and the Waynes. Chaos ensues.

If looks could kill, Danny would’ve been killed a thousand times over, with his body cremated and his ashes thrown into the farthest volcano with salt then being tossed along the dirt afterwards.

Dan had never looked so vicious as he glared daggers at Danny, who was his eyes closed and his hands in front of him, like a prayer. However, he was definitely praying for patience because he had a dinner knife in one hand that Cass was trying to take back from him to no avail.

Dani had her arms wrapped around Tim’s, a wide grin on her face as she noisily snacked on the roast potatoes and watched the battle between Dan and Danny. Tim was trying to hold back a smile, but he pulled the bowl of potatoes closer to her. Kon, who was sitting on the other side of her and was invited by Tim, was also wide eyed and grinning, an arm wrapped around the both of their chairs when he leaned back.

Jazz just looked at Alfred and Bruce with a shameful look on her face and beading tears of embarrassment in her eyes as she muttered, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again.

Jason was trying to soothe her and not-so-subtly motion Dick to step in and stop the fight while said man was staring at his boyfriend in horror, looking between both of the psychically fighting men with strange looks.

Damian had his head down, whispering to Stephanie and Duke who also had their heads ducked as they gossiped about the situation. Jon, who was sitting on Damian’s other side, was also leaning in and listening with a grin.

Bruce was just looking back and forth between Dan and Danny with wariness and confusion.

“… do you two know each other?”

“Know each other?” Danny said, looking up and finally opening his eyes. “Oh, we definitely know each other.”

Dan bristled at some invisible offense. Dick snapped back fo awareness and grabbed him, chuckling nervously as Dan growled.

Danny raised an eyebrow and sneered, continuing, “Yeah, I know him, alright.”

Dan suddenly grabbed a fork and threw it at Danny. It sank into the wall and pandemonium erupted as the Bats lunged backwards as Dan flew over the table to jump at Danny. However, Danny wasn’t going out without a fight because they immediately began punching and kicking with even some biting. Cass and Dick lunged forward to pull them apart while everyone else moved away.

Dani burst out laughing, but when Jazz burst into tears, that was when everything got even worse.

(I actually wanted to write something like this lmao.

If I continued this, it would be too long, but basically, Jazz has been on her last nerves for the entire day bc this is the first time she’s ever met her boyfriend’s family, and then SUDDENLY she finds out all of her siblings are dating people from the same family and then now her brothers are fighting bc none of them knew that they were dating a pair of siblings, and they thought they could finally get away from each other, and she’s both so embarrassed and so anxious that she started crying.

Immediately, it’s like a *record scratch*, the fighting stops and both Dan and Danny make up really, really fast to comfort their sister and then all of the Phantoms, including Dani bc she did nothing to stop the fight, help clean up the mess and the day actually gets better bc it becomes a bonding activity between the Fentons and the Bats. Jazz is still very embarrassed but it works out.)

[absurdthirst]

Fucking Fungus {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dub con, post apocalyptic world, scavenging, guilt, shame, desire, Joel having a bad attitude, mentions of periods, rough sex, neediness, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Coming across Wymore, NE, you hoped to find some much needed supplies for the coming winter but you find that the fungus has mutated in dangerous and frightening ways. Needing to insure that there are more hosts to infect in a very basic kind of way.

🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉Happy Birthday @storiesofthefandomlovers!!!! I love you and hope you have the best damn day! In thotty tradition, here is a sex pollen to celebrate another year around the sun!🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The world has changed in the past twenty years. None of it for the betterment of humanity. The crunch of the dried leaves grinds under your boots and your head rotates left and then right as you watch, listen. Waiting for any sign of life or more importantly, danger. The weight of your rifle is heavy in your hands, although you hold it down, unassuming but ready to be lifted at a second’s notice. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just hook it over your shoulder.” Ellie snorts, her backpack bouncing slightly on her back from the steps that seem so unencumbered by worry. Why should she worry when there are two fully armed adults on either side of her. Her own personal guard in a manner of speaking. “There hasn’t been anything out here for daaaaaays.” She drags the word out like it's the most horrible thing in the world that it’s been peaceful. 

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes as you glance over at him and then look back out at the surrounding terrain. “Yeah, that’s why we are on guard.” He grunts, even though his own rifle is on his shoulder. His hand gripped the shoulder sling loosely but he had only just put it up there half an hour ago after you had taken your turn relaxing as much as you can. “it’s too fucking quiet.” 

He’s right. After the disasters that had been Kansas City, you had tried to avoid major cities, but even in the small towns, you had come across plenty of cordyceps and clickers. You hate the clickers with a passion.

The isolation can account for a lot of the silence. Miles stretching between remnants of civilization. The crumbling buildings and overgrown roads give the entire midwest a sense of peace. It’s unnerving. 

Your grip adjusts, head rolling around your shoulders slightly to try to loosen the knot that builds up in your shoulders after so long. The weight of your pack isn’t as heavy as it should be, the rations not exactly filling since you had to escape that one clicker in Du Bois, Nebraska. Your pack had been ripped and most of the food you had been carrying was lost. 

You glance over at Joel, noticing the way his shoulders seem to hang, almost a reflection of the way you feel. “We need to risk a larger town.” You murmur quietly, knowing that his first instinct will be to argue with you. You stumble slightly over a rock and hiss when you feel the hole in the sole of your boots. 

“Too dangerous.” Joel snorts, shaking his head even as he watches you regain your footing. “I’ve got some duct tape in my bag.” He reminds you, knowing that you should probably reinforce that shoe before you lose the sole all together. 

“It’s not just shoes.” You protest, trying to ignore the way that Ellie groans obnoxiously loud and stomps her foot. 

“Come on, man!” She throws her own arguments into the ring. “I need tampons! We could find them if there was jack shit out here, but there’s not. Do you want me to attract wild animals?” She presses, glaring at Joel who looks equal parts horrified and unconvinced. She cracks an evil grin. “Circling us in the wild as I just leave behind a trail of blood? Aaaaand tears.” She adds, lifting her brows. “Periods are really emotional things.” 

Biting your lip to keep from snorting, you watch as Joel; normally stoic, no bullshit Joel, can’t seem to string together the words to respond. His eyes slide over to you, almost pleading with you to say something. 

Your brows lift in question and he twitches slightly, his dark eyes unhappy with you not immediately jumping in to save him. “We could use the food if we can find any.” You rationalize, smirking when his brows pinch together and he looks like he had just been betrayed. 

“Clean underwear!” Ellie adds. “Or….cleaner. And a heavier fucking coat.” She shivers slightly and you can see that is the moment when Joel caves. He acts like a prick most of the time, but he’s got a soft spot for the kid. He won’t admit, maybe not even to himself, but he looks over at the faded and nearly rusted out sign. 

You continue walking, not pressing any more and you can hear the grumbling thoughts that are rolling through Joel’s mind. The now half hearted protests about why this is such a bad idea but you wait for the sigh. 

Almost even with the sign is when it comes, heavy and it sounds almost pained. Like he is going against everything he believes in. “Stop.” He huffs, shuffling to pull his bag off his back and kneeling down with a groan and the small pops of fifty plus year old knees. Unzipping the pocket where he keeps the Atlas and flips the worn pages to Nebraska. Glancing back at the road behind you and then at the sign before looking at the map. Tracing the route that you had already traveled before looking ahead at the towns that were on highway 77. 

Ellie doesn’t say a word but she practically bounces on her toes as she waits for his decision. You know that he’s going to agree, it’s just a matter of which town he chooses. He knows the truth of the situation. Winter is going to come quicker than any of you want, your food supply is low, you could probably all use a new set of boots, and all of you would kill for a halfway decent musty mattress to sleep on. Four walls and a hopefully non-leaking roof over your heads would be the icing on the cake. 

“Wymore is coming up in fifty-eight miles.” He taps the map and looks up at you to see what you think. 

Ellie shuffles slightly and instead of grinning, you crane your neck to look at the map yourself. “It looks like it’s bigger than the last few towns, but at least it’s not like we are running into Lincoln.” You hum before you nod. “I say we try.”

“Yessssss!” The teenager pumps her fist in excitement and she grins when Joel rolls his eyes. You’ve noticed that like any normal teenager, her favorite activity is annoying any kind of parental unit and pushing boundaries. This applies to Joel whether or not he likes it. “I want to find another joke book too.” 

Joel groans but you just turn around, grinning yourself as Joel mumbles under his breath, stuffing the map back in his pack and zipping it up. Joel and Ellie are alike in a lot of ways, especially their penchant for mumbling. 

You resist the urge to offer him a hand up, knowing he will be even more pissy if you do. For someone who complains about being older, he gets downright grouchy when he’s reminded of that same fact. “Well then, the quicker we get there, the quicker we don’t have to hear ‘are we there yet?’.” You snort, making Ellie grin shamelessly as she shrugs, knowing she will do exactly that. 

“So let’s get going.” She doesn’t wait for anyone, just setting off down the road and leaving the two of you to catch up with her. 

****

It takes you nearly three days to get to Wymore. All of you are tired, but Joel is the one who barely sleeps, even when you force him to lay down. It’s as if he cannot stop trying to protect Ellie, and also you, long enough for him to rest. He gets upset when he has to sleep, staying up until he is nodding off. The coffee supply has been exhausted and it’s probably a good thing. He would drink it all day to the point where his hands would shake from too much caffeine. Still he just wouldn’t trust you to make sure that no one snuck up on you for a few hours until he was past the point of being useless. 

The first signs of the town are a welcomed relief but it’s also an added source of tension. Each mile that you had traveled had added to the fear that this might be the time that you fail. That something goes wrong and someone else dies. The road here has not been easy and the losses have weighed heavily on all of you. Joel still won’t even mention Tess and you hate it when you wake up in the early morning hours to find him staring down at the broken face of his watch with a look that breaks your heart. 

Every approach into a new area can mean danger, either from the clickers or from humans and honestly you don’t know which one you fear more. Your gun is back in your hand, the weight of it familiar and comforting as you pass the first gas station, the windows busted out and dried fungus clinging to the building. 

“Fuck.” You hiss, uneasy at the presence of the fungal vines, even if they look like they aren’t active.

“I wonder why it looks pink.” Ellie frowns as she squints at the building. “It’s usually an ugly brown color, right?” She looks towards Joel for confirmation, but he’s busy frowning at the building himself. 

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” If the cordyceps have spread this far out of town then there’s a possibility there are still active branches closer to the supplies that you are looking for. 

“Come on man.” Ellie groans, kicking a dirt clod. “There’s nothing for miles. It’s probably all dead.” 

You know that Ellie is probably right, but it’s a risk. You bite your lip, looking over at Joel. “Why don’t we sweep the town and we can see?” You ask, knowing that if everything is dead, you could desperately use the rest. Cordyceps rarely return en masse when the vines have withered and died. It could be a safe place to recharge and for Joel to sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. 

You’ve stopped walking as you talk, Joel looking around as he contemplates your alternatives. To be honest, there aren’t many and both of you know it. Not without a lot of backtracking which none of you want to do. 

Joel sighs and you know that he’s going to agree. He turns to Ellie. “Don’t fucking touch anything until we say it’s alright.” He points at her for good measure, as if his finger would impress the importance of his words. “Got it?” 

“Got it.” She huffs. “Jesus, you act like we haven’t done this before.” You roll your eyes and look away, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her right now. 

It takes hours to make your way into the center of town. Not because you are blocked by clickers or avoiding humans, it’s because you are stocking up. It’s like the fungus took over this town and just let it rot. Nothing inside the first few blocks of town is disturbed. No looting has been done here, plenty of supplies to be had. 

Both you and Joel have been cautious but slowly optimistic as you’ve found boots and heavy jackets, gloves and hats. A new pair of clothes have been rolled into everyone’s bags and you’ve even grabbed another pack to fill with the mylar sealed packs of camping food from the sporting goods store. It was a miracle that nothing had been ransacked, but it makes you wonder exactly what the fuck happened here. Did the army sweep through and round up all the residents right away? It would make sense, but then why were there dead spores of the fungus here? You haven’t seen one body so far and it makes you nervous. 

“This place is a fucking gold mine.” Ellie grins like a kid in a candy store, perhaps because you’ve actually found candy and she has been sucking on the jolly ranchers until the top of her mouth is raw. “Now we just need to find a place to sleep. I want my own room.” 

Glancing over at Joel, you expect him to immediately tell her no, but he doesn’t say a word. Continuing to look around like he is expecting a clicker to pop out from the doorway of the local McDonald’s, now completely covered in that strange pink fungus. It’s like he doesn’t even hear her as he frowns at the building. 

She takes that as approval and immediately starts talking about how she’s going to spread out. Making you snort when she talks about sitting in her underwear for an hour. There hasn’t been a lot of privacy out here on the road, so you can understand that desire. 

“Joel.” You murmur his name softly, knowing that the best thing you can do is to find the motel and get settled down for the night before the sun sets. Even if this town is as safe as it appears on the surface, you would rather not be fumbling around in the dark . He doesn’t look over at you, still staring at the overgrown building as if it’s holding the secret. Maybe it reminds him of the Boston Museum, ominously covered with the tentacles of the fungus and the horrors that you had found inside it. “Joel!”

“What?” His head whips around, body tense as he’s ripped out of his thoughts. Relaxing when he finds you and Ellie staring at him. “We need to find the motel.” You remind him, nodding towards the sun getting lower in the sky. “I think we could all use a good night’s sleep.” 

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes searing your face, looking for some hidden meaning beneath your words before he glances over at an eager Ellie. “Yeah, sure.” He agrees, adjusting his rifle to sling it onto his shoulder and adjusts his now much heavier pack on his back. “Probably on the other side of the main drag.” 

His new boots thump against the cracked pavement. The roads leading deeper into the town is the guide towards what will hopefully be a comfortable bed and at least eight hours of sleep. 

Your own new boots feel pretty good, but maybe a day or so here, going through supplies and really making sure that you can take on the coming winter would be a good thing. Allowing you to break in the shoes without blisters. You’ll have to talk about it with Joel after Ellie sequesters herself for the night. 

It’s about another fifteen minutes before you get to the small motel that looks like it will be a good place to spend the night. Half the building is covered in another large cluster of the fungus, the pink hue looking particularly bright in the fading sun. 

“We’ll get some keys.” It will be better than breaking down doors, especially since the motel wasn’t equipped with the keycards that the high end hotels had started switching to before society came crashing down. 

The bad news is that the motel doesn’t have any adjoining rooms, so Joel and Ellie get into a small spat about her having her own room, Ellie eventually winning after promising that she will block the door with a dresser and he’s allowed to sweep the room before she locks herself in. Half the building is so overtaken by the vivid pink fungus that you swear looks like a big splat of bubblegum thrown over the walls. 

She doesn’t even want to have dinner with you and Joel, making the man go through the room and then telling you both goodnight and shutting the door in your face. Making you laugh as Joel frowns at the door, rethinking this entire situation. 

“Well, you can have a room to yourself too.” You offer, smirking as he cuts his eyes towards you. You know that Joel would rather everyone sleep where he can keep his eyes on them, so you getting privacy is off the table. 

“Shut up.” Joel grunts, walking down towards the next room and kicking it open, watchful even though you’ve both already been in the room and deposited your bags. It’s a nice room, two double beds so each one of you can stretch out and relax. 

You laugh quietly and decide to walk down the railing towards the portion of the building that has been overtaken by the fungus. Your curiosity about this variant is finally getting the best of you and you want to get a better look at it. 

It’s thick. The tendril that is draped over the metal railing of the second floor, wrapping around it and up the support column. You bite your lip, tilting your head when you see the withered remnants of some kind of flower. What kind of fungus sprouts flowers?

You jump when something touches your back, whirling around to find Joel behind you, holding his hands up. He smirks at you, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Fuck you.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes and he huffs. “What are you doing?” He asks. 

Turning back towards the fungus, you sigh. “This is different from any other kind I’ve ever seen.” You comment, stepping closer to it only to feel Joel reach for your arm to pull you back. “It’s dried out.” You remind him, jerking your head towards the husk of the cordyceps. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” You know that he spent a lot of time sneaking out of the Boston QZ, it’s possible he had seen it before. 

He grunts, relaxing his hold on you and he shuffles slightly closer, looking at the flower buds that extend from the tendrils. His own suspicions about anything fungus related is deep, but it’s dried. “I haven’t.” He admits after a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly and trying to think if there is any reason why this pink coloring has the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. 

“So it’s something new.” You bite your lip and lean in, feeling the disapproval radiate off of Joel in hot waves but you ignore him. Tilting your head and reaching out to touch one of the dried flowers. 

“Don’t-”

The second your finger touches the wilted bloom, it bursts open, spurting you and Joel behind you in a cloud of pink dust. You gasp, holding your breath but there’s no hope for not inhaling the pollen. 

“Fuck!” Joel coughs, shaking his head and backing up so quickly he hits the side of the building and reaches out to drag you away from the lingering cloud of dust and starts to practically beat it off the two of you. “We need- we need-” He leans over and starts coughing, obviously having inhaled just as much of it as you had. 

“We’re okay.” You gasp, shaking your head and brushing the dust off your clothes. “We- it’s dead. Right?” You hate that you are asking that, but you hadn’t expected that from a dried out fungus.

“It- we should clean up.” Joel blinks, the pollen making his eyes itch and that has to be the cause of the rush of heat that slides over him. It’s just adrenaline. Fear. Anything that would scare both of you would make the slight nip in the air disappear and make you feel like your skin is superheated.

The water is gravity fed. The large cisterns on the roof are still full and while it’s not warm, perhaps a cold shower might be better right now. Joel drags you both to the room and locks the door, although he doesn’t push a dresser in front of it in case Ellie needs you in the night. 

In the bathroom, you are shaking as you start to strip down, worrying about how stupid you just were and if you completely fucked yourself. The anxious fear covering the way your skin seems to burn and feel so sensitive to everything. Shuddering when your hand brushes over your thigh as you push your jeans down and kick them off before you pull your shirt over your head and remove your bra. 

Clean up. Get the pollen off your skin and cool down. Your body seems to be working on overdrive. Your nipple hard under the cold water and instead of gasping in shock, you moan softly. Enjoying the sensation and reaching for the bar of soap that is still wrapped in plastic. 

Hurry up, hurry up. Joel paces around the room, his hands curled into fists. Practically sweating even though the air is cool as the sun sets. His body feels like it’s on fire, like he is battling a sickness. 

Over and over again, he goes through the symptoms of the infection of the cordyceps, there’s no veining, he’s stopped and checked his eyes and reflection in the peeling mirror about twenty times in the five minutes you’ve been in the bathroom. And he doesn’t fucking think the fungus makes his cock harder than a fucking rock in his jeans. 

He’s not thought about sex in months. Nothing beyond fleeting moments of attraction to you that he swiftly buries under guilt and responsibility. Normally, it is when you’re bent over and your ass is presented to him in such a way that he thinks about sinking into you from behind, or when your shirt pulls tight over your breasts and he imagines cupping them in his hands as you sit on his cock. Immediately dismissed and ignored as he reminds himself of how he had failed Tess, he doesn’t deserve to find warmth and comfort in your arms. 

Now, it’s all he can think about. The urge to palm his cock makes his fingers twitch and he almost moves his hand over his crotch before he flinches back to reality and tries to examine his face in the mirror again, wondering if his eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep or if he is infected. 

Scrubbing your body is nearly painful, wanting to stop and touch yourself, but you can’t. You need to get this done and get out so Joel can shower. Still, despite the cold water, you feel like you are on fire when you shut off the water and realize that you didn’t bring your bag into the bathroom. You will have to go out there in nothing because you can’t put those clothes back on. Not until they have been washed. 

Moderately dry, you hear Joel bang on the door. “Hurry up.” He growls, making you clench your thighs together at the raspy tone and hating how it spears through you. You know Joel isn’t interested in you, hasn’t ever looked at you like that and the crush that you had on the man had been buried deep. 

“I’m done.” You don’t have a chance to be embarrassed as you open the door and Joel practically shoves past you into the bathroom and slams it behind him. “Fuck.” Your annoyance cools the heat for a moment, but it’s only temporary. 

The water is icy, but still, Joel curls his hands into fists against the shower wall. He’s fucking hard. Harder than he had probably ever been in his entire life, even when he was a horny teenager and would have fucked anyone who let him between their thighs. He’s not felt like this ever. The need to touch himself builds to the point where his hips are rocking into thin air against the spray of the water. Want clawing up his throat and pooling in his stomach in a heavy knot. 

You don’t dress, you can’t. Crawling under the covers of one of the beds, you listen to Joel groan in the bathroom, it’s muted over the sound of the shower but it’s sexy. All of his sounds are sexy, from the low grunts he gives when he’s stiff and sore, to the huffs and groans of annoyance. It’s all sexy to you. The rasp of his voice when he’s not spoken for a few hours. 

Closing your eyes, it’s easy to give in, to let your hands drift over your skin. He’s not here, you can take care of this frantic need that is swirling inside you. You just need to slide your hand between your thighs and ease it. It wouldn’t take much more than a few swipes of your fingers against your pulsing and aching clit. 

Trying to fight it, you concentrate on your breathing, in and out. Inhaling slowly and holding it so you can exhale when the burn in your lungs tells you that you’ve reached your limit. It helps, but not much. Not when you’re imagining Joel in his shower. Touching him. Being free to touch him and having his hands on your body in return. 

Your hands slip over your breasts, squeezing them hard enough to moan softly and your legs shift to press together. Clenching around nothing and wishing that you were full while your hands start to move down over your stomach. 

The first touch is almost a relief, your entire core quivering as your fingers press against your clit. It’s overwhelming and not enough. You need more, fingertips pressing and rubbing around the puffed up bundle of nerves. You’re already soaked and can feel it dripping down your slit. 

Spurred on by that insatiable need, you slide your fingers around your entrance and start to press them inside. Biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. Imagining that it’s more, that it’s a cock that is starting to break you open and fill that void that is aching. 

You are so caught up in the bliss of that first stretch of your fingers that you don’t hear the shower turn off. The quiet curses coming from the bathroom are muffled by the rush of blood in your ears, the feeling of relief coursing through your nerves and taking over. You don’t hear the click of the lock and the turn of the handle. The door opening doesn't even register as you plant your heels on the bed and push your hips up, needing to get your fingers deeper, not quite reaching the spot inside you that craves fullness. 

You don’t hear him until he chokes out a sound that is pained and low, like he’s injured. Your eyes pop open as you lurch up off the bed, your fingers ripping themselves out of your cunt hard enough to make you whimper. Fixed on Joel’s towel draped body, tented over his waist. 

“Joel, I-” “Fuuuuuck.” He growls, his eyes closing and his hands bunches into fists, one holding his towel and the other by his side. “I’ve tried to not think about you, about touching you.” His words are rasped out, strained against his vocal cords. “I’ve goddamn beat into my brain that you aren’t to be thought about this way and now, I can’t stop.” His stomach clenches and his body twitches as he struggles to keep still. 

Your chest heaves and you see his eyes drop down to your uncovered tits. His jaw clenching and his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. “I - I need to touch myself.” You admit breathlessly. “I - it hurts so bad and I need something inside me.” 

Joel groans again, shuddering so violently that you can see him shake from where you are. “I’ve jerked off in the shower twice and it's still hard.” He drops the towel, revealing his hard and leaking cock, making you whimper at the sight and clench around nothing. “I think that- that we- that the flower-” “I don’t care.” You moan, shaking your head and crawling to your knees and shuffling forward. Showing him all of you and so goddamn desperate to touch him that you think you are about to explode. “Touch me, Joel. Fuck, touch me, please.” You beg, your hands on your own body. “We-” He shakes his head and his face changes, morphs into pain.

“Fuck me.” You hiss, watching as his resolve breaks. His cock bounces as he lunges for you, hard and swift, driving you back to the bed with a bounce. Almost as if he is attacking you. 

He’s not gentle. His mouth finding yours in a harsh kiss, your permission unleashing the coils of restraint that he had tried to put on himself. His grip bruises as he hauls you up the bed and settles between your thighs. 

You’ve always attributed Joel with rough gentleness. The type of man who would make you ache and then hold you close. Groaning in pleasure when you find out that is exactly what Joel Miller is like. His hands spreading your thighs with a desperation that proves he is just as afflicted by this fungal pollen as you are. His cock hard and pressing against your folds as he rocks his hips forward to line up. Almost unable to find the hole with his eagerness to sink into you. 

“Joel, hurry.” Your hands shake, holding onto him and urging him closer to you, frantic with need now that you know that you are going to have him inside you. 

“Goddamn, I’m trying.” He hisses, hating to let you go so he can take his cock in hand. Rocking into his own grip as he shuttles his hips forward. “I’m fuckin’ trying, sweetheart.” 

You whimper when you finally feel him pressing against your entrance, choking out a sound of need that is animalistic. Only to cry out in bliss as he pushes inside you without another delay. 

He groans, eyes cinched shut as he slides inside you to the hilt, burying himself in your heat and feeling that coil in his stomach tighten even more now that your walls are around him. Immediately starting to move just as soon as he fills you, driving by that need and burning in his very veins. 

It’s exquisite, the pain and pleasure blending and fusing in your stomach, nerves alight and responding to every small movement. You can’t get enough of him, you need more. Wrapping  your legs around his hips, you rise to meet his harsh thrusts. Clenching down around him every time he hits that spot deep inside you that you couldn’t reach with your fingers. 

He shouldn’t be inside you, he shouldn’t be touching you, but now that he is, he can’t stop. Turning his head, he presses his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth. Needing more. Kissing you like he had imagined a thousand times before. Giving into every urge he has had since the day he met you and repressed before right now. Snapping his hips forward sharply and pulling every groan out of your mouth to swallow down. 

Every thrust makes it better, eases that burning in your core, your cunt slick and squelching every time he drives into you. He absorbs every sound you make, almost greedy for them. His hips jarring as they slam into you. Rocking you both up the bed. 

“Oh god,” breaking away from the kiss, you moan into his ear. Closing your eyes as he pants and puffs while he fucks you. “So deep, so deep, Joel.” Your nails drag down his back, making him hiss in pleasure and pain. 

“Shit.” He groans your name, lost in the rhythm of his thrusts and the building pressure. “You needed this?” He growls, making you clench down around him hard and whimper his name. “Yessss.” You agree, nodding against the pillow. “Needed it so bad.” 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He huffs, burying his face against your neck. Continuing to pound into you, and not letting up even though his back is screaming in pain. His body won’t let him do anything but rock his hips. Driven by a need that overrides everything else. 

His words make you burn, making you even more desperate for him. Your hips rock up and legs tightening around his waist even more. Loving how his cock stretches you out and scrubs against every nerve in your cunt. Lighting up your body until you are gasping on the edge of that much needed orgasm. 

Every plunge into your body brings him closer to cumming, desperate to feel that emptiness, that wrung out filling once he has filled you. He shouldn’t cum inside you, he knows that, but he’s not going to be able to stop himself. He can barely pull back enough to rock his hips back into you. 

His arms have banded around you, holding you into place as he fucks you. Deep and primal, as if he is trying to fuse the two of you into one. His cock punches into the depths of your body that you never imagined anyone reaching, but he touches it with ease. Your body pulsing with that need to come apart. 

“So close, I’m so close, baby.” You whine, body starting to tremble underneath him. “So close.” Your nails dig into his shoulder, grounding yourself to him in desperation. “Joel.” 

“I gotcha.” He groans, eyes closed and his breath fanning against your skin. “I’mma take good care of you, sweetheart.” He promises. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, ain��t cha? Just like you wanted.” 

His words throw you over the edge, that need built up so tight inside you that it busts on the next thrust. Lights careen and collide behind your eyes, bright and beautiful as your whole body ignites into pleasure like you’ve never experienced before. Crying out loudly and soaking  him in a wave of your juices. Cumming harder than you ever have before. 

Joel growls your name, his hips stuttering as you come apart around you. Unable to hold back any longer. He buries himself deep into your hot passage and paints your walls with sticks ropes of his seed. Panting against your lips as he empties himself body and perhaps his very soul into you. 

Both of you pant, relieved and exhausted from the pure exertion of need as you had taken from each other. Joel presses into you, trying to catch his breath, but the fire is still burning low in his belly, his cock still not softening as it twitches inside you. 

“Oh fuck.” You feel that same desire still curling in your stomach, not satisfied by the intensity of the orgasm that you are still coming down from. “Joel-” 

He huffs and shakes his head. “Don’t-” he presses his lips to your again, body screaming as he starts to move again. “Shhhhhh.” 

The need still burns and both of you are still locked in its fiery grip, not yet free from the desire that washed over you from a burst of pollen. 

****

“What the fuck man, open the door!” The thudding on the door finally penetrates the bone deep sleep you had finally fallen into. You don’t know how many time Joel fucked you, or how many times he had spend himself inside you as you blearily open your eyes. 

Joel grunts, slowly opening his own eyes and unwinding himself from the tangled together position that you had passed out in. The knocking on the door keeps on. “Joel!” Your name is also shouted, Ellie starting to sound somewhat panicked when neither one of you is immediately opening the door. 

“Fuck! I’m coming.” He drags the top blanket off the bed and wraps it around his waist before flinging the door opened to blink into the harshness of the sun. “What?” He growls roughly, making Ellie’s eyes blow wide with shock.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” She demands, pushing into the room and stopping short when she sees you sitting up in the only bed that has been disturbed, the sheet anchored beneath your armpits. “Oh shit, you fucked.” She gasps, turning and shooting Joel an impressed grin. “Way to go, old man, you made a move.” Her grin quickly turns into an expression of mild disgust when she realizes that she’s congratulating you two on having sex. “Uh, I’m gonna go now.” She huffs, wrinkling her nose and pinching it. “It smells in here.” Waving her hand in front of her face, she darts back out the door and Joel just stands there for a moment before he rolls his eyes and goes to shut the door before he thinks better of it. Sticking his head out of the room, he shouts after Ellie. “Stay away from the fucking fungus!” 

You snort, grinning to yourself as your body starts to ache. Fucking fungus indeed. 

[silentgravesdontexist]

I'm rlly over here just making these random Ace posts that I come up on the fly while my drafts are side-eyeing me so hard rn... Anyways! Here's a fluffy drabble that involves Ace and kisses. No editing just brain rot, type, and post. Here's my masterlist if you liked this~

Portgas D. Ace x GN!Reader

CW: None. Tooth-rotting fluff (i just think Ace and kisses go well together ok?)

Word Count: 885

Ace always adored how sweet and affectionate you were. Not just to him but to your loved ones as well. Ofc, with the exception that you treat him even more affectionately given that he is your boyfriend. The man melts each time you give him that warm smile of yours. He'd look grumpy and brooding at times, but he'd always smile whenever he sees you.

Most of the time, he does his best to be of service to you. It makes him feel like if he does things like that, he'll be more deserving of your love and presence. Basically an acts of service kind of guy. He also loves physical affections you shower him with. But his favorite at the moment when you kiss him after he helps you out with something.

He helped you carry some of the crates? A kiss on the cheek. Helping you out with your duties? A kiss on the tip of his nose. You were on nightwatch, and he accompanied you and even brought your favorite drink/snack? A kiss on the lips.

You trained this man for it like he was Pavlov's dog salivating at the sound of that bell. And Ace didn't even mind. He loved it. Grinning at you with that smile of his so bright it would put the sun to shame. It encouraged him all the while making him feel so appreciated and wanted in your presence.

Now, he's gotten so used to it that he will lean in for you— fully expecting that kiss already. Just like now that he helped you sort out your duties for the day and even taught you a few things in the process. A dopey-smile on his lips as he awaits for his reward.

But it doesn't come.

You said goodnight, yawned, and left to your quarters. It was already late into the night and you were exhausted. The day was a lot tiring for some reason that all you just wanted was to crash down and sleep the fatigue off. Your warm bunk already calling you as you guide through the halls.

He just stood there. Couldn't even say good night. It takes a few moments for it to settle in. You didn't kiss him. You didn't. Now, his mind is in overdrive. Questioning and wondering what, why, or how. Did he upset you somehow? No, you were probably just too tired, right? But you never forget to kiss him. Was he overthinking it or was your tone more flat?

Oh, no, it's replaying in his mind, and he's convinced he did something wrong.

Poor guy couldn't sleep a wink. Did he tease you too much? Was he careless in teaching you? Did he sound impatient? It was that look in face. Definitely. He probably looked like he was frustrated at you, didn't he? Sure, it occured to him you were probably just tired— but what if it wasn't?

Unable to take it, he jumps off his own bunk and rushed towards yours. Immediately, he's knocking on your door. Part of him did feel guilty for disturbing your sleep. The idea that he might have done something to upset you outweighed it.

You're sleepily at the door to face Ace. Hair mussed from sleep and eyes barely open while you rub the sleep away. Oh, how he wanted to cup your cheeks and pepper you with kisses bc you looked adorable— Focus, Portgas. Focus. He starts babbling on apologies about random things that might've upset you (he won't directly say he's worried you didn't kiss him bc he has a reputation to somewhat maintain).

Ofc, you barely understand him. It was what? Past midnight? And you just woke up? Eventually, it does dawn on you that you didn't kiss him earlier as you usually did whenever he helps you out. A soft and sleepy chuckle leaves your lips. Your hands hold his and press kisses on his knuckles.

"I'm not upset." With that, you guide him inside and pull him down to bed with you. "Just tired." You mumble while cupping his cheek and start peppering kisses over his face. Just trailing your soft lips over his freckles. "I'm sorry. It just slipped my mind."

Ace melting like putty in your hands. Arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you close. He's leaning into your touch like an overgrown pet yearning for more of your affection. His lingering doubts and worries fading away at your affections.

"Does this make up for it?" You ask, pulling away to meet his gaze. A warm yet drowsy smile adorns your lips and he finds himself falling for you all over again. You were so good to him. So good. He'd do anything to keep you in his life.

"It does." Ace responds, leaning closer to capture your lips with his. The kiss is sweet and languid. As if pouring every emotion he couldn't put into words to express just how much you meant to him.

~~~~

Taglist: @captainportgasdace @that-student-that-has-homework (if its ok 'cuz you guys interact with my fics a lot)

[moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon]

IN DEFENSE OF TRAVIS MARTINEZ:

Because I’m sick and tired of seeing travis hate everywhere I go.

“Travis was sexist.”

Did he spout some sexist rhetoric in the beginning of the show? Sure. But it’s important to recognize that: A) he changed, and by season 2 he completely stopped, B) he was a teenage boy in the 1990s, and that kind of rhetoric was normal at the time, C) most of his sexist macho tough guy attitude was a complete act that he likely put on to compensate for his insecurity about his own masculinity, and internalized homophobia. (More on that later.)

(Also let’s be real, Travis is basically one of the girls anyway and I’m tired of pretending he’s not.)

2. “Travis didn’t care about Javi.”

Did we watch the same show??? Granted Travis may have had trouble expressing his feelings (also related to his insecurities about masculinity, likely learned from his father, as well as growing up in a patriarchal and homophobic society), but he cared deeply about Javi. In S1E4, Travis literally DUG UP HIS DAD’S GRAVE, through horror, tears, and vomit, in order to retrieve his ring to give to Javi. When Javi disappeared, Travis kept looking for him every day for months, and never gave up, even when logically it would have seemed impossible for him to still be alive. He comforted and reassured Javi when neither of them drew the card. He cradled Javi’s dead body and ate a bite of his raw heart (which was a metaphor for how much he loved him, and a parallel to Shauna eating Jackie’s raw ear.) Maybe Travis wasn’t always there for Javi in the way he needed, but he absolutely loved him, and it’s important to remember that Travis was also a traumatized, grieving, kid who just lost his dad.

3. “Travis slut-shamed Nat.”

As we are literally shown in the show, Travis was not trying to slut shame her, he asked how many times she had done it because he was embarrassed about the fact that he was a virgin, and worried that she would judge him, or that he wouldn’t measure up because he was more inexperienced than her. When she told him she hooked up with Bobby Farleigh, he did not get mad at her because she slept with another guy (he already knew about that, and was fine with it), he got mad because she hooked up with his bully, and then lied to him about it. I don’t blame Nat for this, she didn’t know about it at the time, and didn’t want him to get mad once she found out, but I also don’t blame Travis for being hurt and embarrassed and upset with her for lying about it.

4. “Travis was just kind of a dick.”

Sure, but so were all of them. He acted like kind of a jerk in the first season. So what? Shauna had an affair with her best friend’s boyfriend, lied to her about it for months, and refused to apologize. Misty tried to drug Coach Ben. Nat faked his brother’s death to him (yeah, she was trying to help him move on, but still not cool). All of them called him “Flex” (y’know, the nickname that was used to bully him for years). None of them are perfect or nice or likable all the time, and that’s ok; that’s the whole point. They’re realistic, complex, flawed, morally gray and sometimes unlikable people. They’ve all done bad things, but nothing Travis did is worse than what anyone else on that show has done. He was a traumatized teen whose dad literally just died. Also, me personally, if everyone around me was constantly calling me the mean nickname that was used to bully me since middle school, I would also probably act like a little bit of a dick.

5. “Travis is a straight man.”

Wrong. (Also not really a valid reason to hate someone… But most importantly, just wrong.)

Travis Martinez is clearly a bisexual.

So many of his issues: the insecurity, the bullying, the macho tough guy act, the whole weird complex about his masculinity, all of it stems (at least partly) from the fact that he’s bisexual and has internalized homophobia. The whole “Flex” thing is just thinly veiled homophobia. The main reason why he got bullied is because Bobby Farleigh spread a rumor about him getting back surgery to better suck his own dick. The unsaid implication there is that he’s a man who sucks dick, which is inherently queer, even if it is his own. If you look even slightly past the most surface level interpretation, it’s pretty obvious that Travis was bullied because of homophobia. His performance of stereotypical toxic masculinity was clearly over compensation for the fact that he doesn’t fit into the box of traditional straight masculinity, and was a reaction to the bullying from his peers, abuse from his dad, and internalized homophobia from growing up in a homophobic and patriarchal society. As the show progresses he starts to unlearn that toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia, and he allows himself to be more vulnerable, emotional, and feminine, and as a result, he becomes stronger, more confident, and more respectful of the people around him.

As for Travis being a man… Is he though???

In season 1, Travis is a man (narratively speaking); there is a clear distinction between Travis/Coach Ben and the girls. However, in season 2, we see a stark shift in how Travis is depicted. The separation between Travis and the girls pretty much ceases to exist. Narratively speaking, there is no distinction made between Travis and the other girls; they are one entity—one hive mind. Instead, the emphasis is now placed on the distinction between Coach Ben and the girls/Travis. When Coach Ben watches the Yellowjackets eat Jackie in horror and disbelief, Travis is right there with them, dressed in ancient greek robes along with the rest of them. In season 2, Coach Ben is the only real Man of the group (Travis has narratively become one of the girls, and Javi is just a boy, not a man) and he is shown staying separate from the rest of the group, and growing more and more uncomfortable with the cultish dynamics, while Travis, on the other hand, becomes more and more integrated with the group, as he falls deeper and deeper into cult beliefs, until he is a full-blown devout Lottie worshipper. Of the three males on the show, he is the only one who actually participates in cannibalism with the other Yellowjackets. Also he lost his virginity to a lesbian.

Whether or not you choose to believe that Travis is transfem (I do) you cannot deny that, at least narratively speaking, Travis is literally just a girl.

6. Travis is a victim.

I don’t know why nobody in this fandom seems to acknowledge this, but Travis is a sexual assault victim and I’m tired of people constantly overlooking and ignoring that fact. In Doomcoming, the girls (excluding Jackie, Nat, Tai, and Van) chased him down, sexually assaulted him, and then tried to kill him. That’s not something that’s up for debate or denial, that is literally canon. Stop pretending it didn’t happen. Stop pretending it wasn’t assault. Stop shaming him and making fun of him for struggling with sex, or not always being able to get it up. That’s a normal trauma response after being assaulted/raped. You guys are literally proving the point. This kind of treatment from society towards masculinity and male victims is just playing into the patriarchy and toxic masculinity, and is exactly what made him act the way he did in season 1 in the first place!

[roanofarcc]

SCHOOL GROUND BASICS

PAIRING: Pope Heyward x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Pope was a smart kid, which made needing a tutor feel utterly humiliating. To make matters worse, you were enlisted to help, the girl he’d been crushing on since he could remember. 

WARNINGS: Pope is the definition of gifted kid burn-out in his story.

masterlist

“My life is over. I’ve officially hit rock bottom,” Pope complained, sprawled out on the sand. His surfboard lay untouched and stuck in the sand a couple of feet away, lined up with the rest of his friends who had spent the afternoon enjoying themselves while Pope wallowed in his own self-pity. They took a break from surfing to join him, snacking on sandwiches and trying to act sympathetic to his cause, even though school wasn’t any of their first priority. 

That was fine for them, they all had their own set of skills outside of school that would do them just fine when they had to enter the big bad world. Pope didn’t feel like he did, though. A couple of treasure hunts and near-death experiences wouldn’t shine too bright on his college applications. 

Never in his life had his grades dipped below exceptional until he got involved with all of the gold bullshit. Did he regret it, no, of course he didn’t. But he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He had a failing grade, a blemish the size of a crater on his record that he needed to scrub clean. To some, maybe that didn’t seem like the end of the world, but to Pope, a failing grade felt like someone had wrapped him in barbed wire. 

To make matters even worse, he was no longer neck and neck to be number one in his class. Since he discovered class rankings in elementary school, he was determined to be number one. His only competition came in the form of a girl who matched his intelligence in every way. They had a friendly competition, a back-and-forth battle for the number one spot. But he was way behind, and she was leagues ahead. 

“You’ll still graduate, right?” Sarah asked, ringing the salt water from her hair. 

Pope stared at the sky, the pretty blue mocking him. “Yeah.” 

“Then what’s the problem?” 

JJ answered for him. “Pope has a surprisingly competitive spirit. Number one or nothin’.” 

“Did Ms. Wright say anything about how you could get your grade up?” Kie asked, forcing a sandwich into Pope’s hand to get him to eat something. 

He reluctantly took a bite before he replied, “I think she wants to publicly shame me.” His friends looked at him, confused. “She suggested a tutor.” 

JJ laughed loudly, earning a quick slap on the arm from John B. “Sorry! I just ever thought we’d live in a world where the man himself needed to be tortured.” 

Pope groaned in pain, his ego more bruised than anything. Since middle school, Pope was the one tutoring people. He helped JJ memorize his times tables. He got John B. to read Of Mice and Men in its entirety and write a B paper over it. He even helped Kie pass chemistry. And now look at him, a disgraced once straight-A student fallen flat on his face. 

A warm hand patted his shoulder. He lulled his head to the side to the sympathetic smile of Sarah. “Getting a tutor isn’t so bad, Pope. I had one to help me pass algebra.” 

“You guys don’t get it,” Pope sighed. 

“Because we’re all dumber than you?” JJ asked, his eyebrows raised. 

“No!” Pope quickly said. “You guys aren’t dumb, I’m just…school is my thing, all right? Or it was. It’s what I was the best at. Now what do I got?” 

He missed the slightly worried expressions his friends shared with each other. A beat of silence passed before Kie broke it. “School is still your thing. You just need a tutor that’ll get you back on your feet, right?” 

“Yeah! Did Ms. Wright suggest anyone?” John B. asked. 

Pope groaned once more like he was physically ill. Maybe he was being extra dramatic, but it was just how he felt. “She gave me a couple of names. None of them I want to sit in a room with and listen to them try to explain this shit to me, though.” Because they were his classmates, and having to sit in a room with them knowing that they knew he was failing was humiliating. 

For a moment, Pope thought JJ caught a glint of sunlight in his eyes, causing him to squint, but that thought was quickly erased when a smirk fell across JJ’s lips, and he scrambled up from the sand. As he hopped over Pope’s body, he said, “I’ve got you, man.” 

Pope didn’t really want to know what he meant by that, but he was forced to when you were suddenly peering down at him. Pope thought he was hallucinating for a moment, but water droplets from your hair sprinkled his skin and he was suddenly very aware of your presence. 

Kildare was small, and the attendees of his school he knew almost as well as the back of his hand. You, he paid more attention to than most. If he was being honest, your intellect was what drew him to you. The way you’d always raise your hand in class, beating him to the answer or the way you spoke with much thought and care. To Pope, you were admirable, but he never worked up the courage to talk to you. Before the sharp turn of his life and grade point average, he told himself he’d get to know you before you graduated, but it seemed null and void. He needed to focus on his studies, not on his stupid crushes. Besides, Pope never had the best luck with girls.

But then JJ somehow got you to take a break from surfing and dragged you over to the rest of the group. He had seen you at the beach before, but up close you were even more stunning than when you were at school, more carefree and relaxed in a swimsuit that complimented your body and the rays of sun illuminating you in a glowy wonder. 

Kie kicked Pope’s leg, prompting him to clear his throat and sit upright quickly. 

“W-What’s up?” Pope managed to get out, cringing at himself as the words tumbled unsmoothly from his lips. 

“You need a tutor, and I found you one!” JJ said, proud of himself. 

Your lips quirked upwards in a light smile, but a confused one too. “You need a tutor?” You didn’t sound judgmental; your voice was kind but questioning, but Pope wanted to bury his head in the sand and disappear. 

“Kind of,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. 

You seemed to contemplate it for a moment, even though he hadn’t asked you because he was all too embarrassed. Yet, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.” 

JJ clapped you on the shoulder, a cocky smile on his lips that Pope was tempted to smack off of him. “See? Was that so hard?” 

Pope was sweating. His hands were clammy, and he felt like he was on the verge of passing out. What was wrong with him?

“What is wrong with you, dude?” John B. asked, eyeing him from the couch. 

“I don’t know, man!” 

“I think someone’s nervous,” Sarah said with a teasing smirk. “That girl JJ found to tutor you, she’s pretty, huh?” 

Pope stopped his pacing to wipe his hands off on his shorts. “JJ hates me.” 

JJ objected. “No, I’m doing you a favor. Killin’ to dogs with one stick.” 

“Birds,” Kie interjected. “It’s ‘kill two birds with one stone.’” 

JJ furrowed his brows. “Why would someone throw rocks at birds?” 

“Why would someone kill a dog with a stick?” John B. retorted. 

“Guys!” Pope yelled, drawing their attention. “Can we focus here, please? I’ve been trying to talk to her all year, and now she’s gonna think I’m an idiot.” 

Kie rolled her eyes. “You’re not an idiot, Pope. It’s one class. Besides, this gives you the perfect opportunity to talk to her, alone.” 

“Exactly,” JJ said. “You’ll make the grade and maybe some action!” 

John B. must’ve noticed the stress clearly painted on Pope’s face. He pushed himself up from the couch and said, “Let’s start with a phone number, okay?” Placing his hands on Pope’s shoulders, he shook him slightly. “You’re overthinking all of this. Just be cool.” 

“Be cool,” Pope repeated, taking in a deep breath. “I can be cool.” 

Cool had varying definitions, but Pope was sure that he missed the mark on every one. He had moved from being nervous about talking to you, to being nervous that his brain couldn’t pick up on simple themes in the novel he had read just the night. He hated being less than perfect in anything school-related because that was his strong suit.

“Are you okay?” you asked, setting down the novel on the tabletop of the quiet beachside picnic table. The sea breeze ruffled the pages of your notebook, prompting you to place a small rock from the parking lot on the corner to keep it down. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m good. Just…thinkin’ about the book,” he replied half-heartedly. 

Your eyes narrowed for a moment before you reached across the table, gently took the book from his hands, and closed it. “I think you’re too much in your head.” 

Pope laughed, void of amusement. “Isn’t that where I’m supposed to be for this stuff?” 

You shook your head, fingernails tapping against the glossy book cover. “When you overthink it, you second guess your gut, which is usually right. You need to loosen up a little.” 

Pope was wound tightly because, up until that point of his life, it had worked for him. He was the voice of reason, sometimes, for his friends' wack-ass ideas that more often led them into dangerous situations. If he acted too carefree, where would his friends be? They all were shoe-horned into a role and that was his, the tightly wound brainiac who was failing English. 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Pope said. You smiled, thinking he was joking, but he was dead serious. 

“Come on,” you said, shoving your books into your bag before you slung it over your shoulder. Pope opened his mouth to ask what you were doing, you had agreed to tutor him for another hour. But you lightly pressed your hand over his mouth and said, “Don’t ask questions, just go with it.” 

He followed you, not listening to the troublesome voice in the back of his head. You led him down the beach to the water, where waves lapped in the setting sun. The air was cool but comforting, paired with the sounds of the ocean For a long moment, the two of you just stared out at the water, the sun shimmering over top as the sky was painted an image of melting colors. 

“JJ said you were embarrassed to have a tutor,” you said, breaking the silence like a wave crashing into him. Pope hung his head, his chest tight. 

“A little, if I’m being honest.” 

You nodded in understanding. “You shouldn’t be, you know? You can’t be good at everything.” Your tone caused him to turn his head, meeting your gaze. 

Pope scoffed. “Right. School’s the one thing I’m good at. And clearly I’m not even that good at that.” 

You looked at him bewildered. “You can’t be serious?” He said nothing, very serious. “Please, Pope. You are good in school. If you weren’t Mr. Clemmons wouldn’t brag about your science project every single week that he displays on his desk. Your picture’s still in the hallways because no one has one a national spelling bee since you had. And I’ve seen you surf. I see you helping out your dad, talking to customers like they’re your family members. I know you’re good at fishing and all of your friends seem to love you.” 

Pope felt as hot as the red sun sinking in front of him. His lips parted, but nothing came out for a beat. He could only look at you with a funny feeling wrapping his heart in tangled strings. 

“How do you know all of that?” 

You’re gaze fell onto your feet buried in the sand, suddenly sheepish, but Pope wanted you to look at him again. There was something about your eyes on him that made him feel…nice. Just nice. “I notice you.” You paused, your face scrunching up slightly. “Not in a creepy way. Just in a…an observant way.” 

“You notice me?” Pope repeated, chewing on the words slowly. It was hard for him to put the feeling into words, which may be linked to the fact that his English grade was suffering. He liked the feeling though. He wanted to sink into it a little more and ‘just go with it’ as you had said mere minutes ago. 

You looked back at him, and he felt his lips curl upwards in a small smile. “Yeah. And I’ve always wanted to say something to you, other than asking to borrow a pen, but I always chickened out. Then JJ came up and asked me to tutor you, and I figured that was my shot.” 

Pope didn’t know how to react. The fact that you had wanted to talk to him, maybe not as much as he wanted to talk to you, made his head spin. He felt giddy and like he could throw up at the same time. He had to play it cool, though, as John B. had said. 

“Cool, cool, cool,” he repeated himself, nodding and making himself look very uncool. He then took a deep breath, letting the sea air fill up his lungs. “I noticed you too.” 

Somehow, you smiled even brighter, it shined even in your eyes. He tensed up as you took a step closer, making the distance between the two of you mere inches. Pope could see the finer details of your face he hadn’t noticed before. He realized you could see him up close too. His forehead was sweaty and the way he had sat made his shirt wrinkle. His lack of sleep from worrying about school probably showed in his eyes and he feared the scar across his nose from when Rafe and Topper jumped him was off-putting. 

You tilted your head just slightly and said, “You’re still overthinking things.” Your voice was just above a whisper, carrying across the empty beach by the wind. 

Pope swallowed thickly and shrugged his shoulders. “Habit.” 

Reaching up, your hands smoothed the collar of your shirt, raising goosebumps along his skin. You leaned in and Pope felt like he was going to pass out. But he quickly tried to steel himself and not screw up the position he, by some miracle, found himself in. Despite his racing brain and racing heart, he leaned forward and met your lips in a quick but nice kiss. Your lip gloss tasted like strawberries, and you smelled like sunscreen. 

After you pulled back, resting your arms around his shoulders. All he could mutter was, “Wow.” 

You wiped some of your lip gloss off of the corner of his lip with your thumb. “And that, Pope, is what happens when you follow your gut.” 

He choked out a laugh. “Are you still tutoring me right now?” 

“No,” you replied. “But just really good at my job.” 

As the sun sunk fully into the ocean, Pope felt himself shine in tune with the twinkling stars. He followed his gut again, kissing you for a second time without his own pestering voice in the back of his head. He just heard you and the ocean ringing in his ears. 

[bigtedbear]

" 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 "

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐥𝐥?

content warnings: male reader, comfort/hurt/comfort, two old men, SFW, ill/chronically ill reader, misunderstood feelings, fontaine story quest spoilers!!!, Furina is the same gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, bear with me theyre in love they're just doomed by the narrative

clarification: case of collywobbles translates roughly to a case of butterflies in the stomach

the plan for this chapter changed as I was writing it and the title of the chapter became basically irrelevant BUT i still think it's fitting

" welcome back, caller @yuri1306! connecting your line as we speak... "

*dramatic drumroll*

hey guys it's finally out

A fair warning to all my returning readers: this may not be my best work, I'll be the first to admit that a lot of this was impeded by my writers block and I really needed to just push this out to get past it

many apologizes to @yuri1306 I did my best to try and encapsulate the entirety of your request my creative flow was not creatively flowing as well as it usually does :(((

That being said I don't think it's bad!!!

I still hope you all enjoy <33

“She really is quite something, is she not?” 

Neuvillette’s head pivoted to turn to the new voice. Unfamiliar at best, intimidating at worst. 

Furina de Fontaine’s inaugural speech; a historic moment and a moment none in attendance were soon to forget.  

Yet, instead of flocking to the stage to request audience with Focalors herself, you were here. 

You lagged behind the crowd. 

You chose to speak with Neuvillette instead. 

In accordance with social etiquette, he wiped the suspicious look off of his face.  “She is confident, assertive.  She has done well in establishing a name for herself in a social setting as brutal as the court.” 

You hummed, resting both palms on the intricate cane you’d chosen to accessorize yourself with.  “It’s a shame in all actuality.  She would have done better to take the harsh critique of the first half of her speech.  I would much prefer to see a face of humility and honesty leading the nation of justice.” 

Neuvillette did not respond. 

The silence was supposedly uncomfortable, and yet the regular churning nausea of awkward tension didn’t seem to constrict the Iudex’s airway. 

Carefully, you peeled a gloved hand from the handle of your cane.  You offered it to the judge politely.  

Cautiously, he gripped it in his own hand before giving it a simple shake. 

“I am [name], I have been appointed to serve as the acting chief advisor of Fontaine.  It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” 

“How did you-”

You raised a brow curiously, looking at the large crowd of people before looking back to the other man still currently holding your hand in his own.  “...forgive my cheek when I say this, Monsieur, but it truly isn’t difficult to pick you out of a crowd.  I must say, your predecessor didn’t mince his words when it came to describing your appearance, you are exactly as he described.”

Even as you hid the amused expression stretching the lower half of your face behind your fingers, the red tainting his otherwise pale skin was not as easily disguised.  Still, even in the face of his unmistakable embarrassment, he did his best to steer the conversation elsewhere.  “You’ve spoken to him?” 

You nodded, resting a hand on your cane.  “For someone as old as I am, I have my connections.”  You gestured towards the stage, “Lest another have been chosen for this position.” 

Another silence settled between the two of you.

He coughed into his fist, volume diminishing as he asked, “My predecessor, he didn’t… speak poorly of me, did he?”

He watched your expression twist with mirth, eyes glinting with poorly veiled amusement.  “No, nothing of the sort.  You can rest assured he was nothing but kind towards you.”  You paused, leaning on your cane as you seemed to think on your words, “Well, at the very least, he wasn’t cruel.  I’m sure you of all people know he’s become far too short-tempered for pleasantries.” 

Neuvillette sighed, posture deflating just the slightest bit.  

It was impossible to miss the chuckle that escaped at his expense. “In the very least, you were spared the worst of mentors.  I’ve heard that one of the remaining Adepti seems intent on meddling in their apprentice’s love lives.”

“You can’t be serious,” the other man responded. 

“Oh, completely serious,” You gestured for him to follow you out into the lobby; there was far less crowding, “I felt so terribly for the young woman last I made the journey to Liyue.  If you were to ask my opinion on the matter, Xianyun is far in over her head trying to meddle in the affairs of young love.” 

He blinked, “Xianyun?” 

You hummed, placing a contemplative hand under your chin.  “You’ve never left the boundaries of Fontaine, have you?” 

He shook his head. 

“Her Adeptal name is Cloud Retainer, aside from that, she is referred to by the name Xianyun.  She has currently taken on an apprentice in the shape of a young half-human half-adeptus,” you explained, trailing up the steps to and from the large theater.  “Ganyu has a very sweet temperament, but it seems as her master attempts to push further into her personal affairs, the further she’s moving to get away from her.” 

Neuvillette nodded his head, tentatively following your lead away from the large crowd.  “Is this related to why you are treating Lady Furina in a similar manner?” 

You paused, looking towards him.  “Oh, not in the slightest.” 

You could see the confusion growing further onto his face. You snickered behind your glove again, turning your back to continue trailing up the stairs.

Still, he followed you up the countless steps towards the lobby.  “I see… I suppose I’m having trouble understanding why you wouldn’t be at Lady Furina’s side in a moment like this.” 

You hummed, “Well, the hydro archon has already made her bed, I can do nothing but allow her to lay in it.” 

“I’m… not following.” 

You tapped your cane on the floor pointedly, “Well, Focalors has many plans to set in motion.  I play both a pivotal role in the production myself, but as of now, my only obligation is to play the role of a spectator.” 

Neuvillette’s brows furrowed. “...Has she asked you to be away from her in these moments?” 

You shook your head.  “Not directly.  But upon watching her grand performance upon the equally grand stage, what choice am I left with?” You pushed open the door to the lobby with one hand, pressing your back against it to allow Neuvillette to cross the threshold first. “Lady Furina has portrayed herself as the almighty, someone completely untouchable by the likes of man or any other power.”  

“Are you upset by her decision to do so?” The Iudex inquired, gripping his own cane closer to his chest.

You shook your head, "Not at all.  But let’s think for a moment what it would look like if the moment she steps off the stage, all questions are instead directed to her advisor.” You followed after him in the next breath, trailing towards the entrance to the grand theater. “In most scenarios, her all-powerful archon of justice is immediately crumpled in the eyes of the common person.” 

“...” 

You shrugged, “At least, when I put myself in the shoes of the lay person, I am not fooled.  She can put on as grand an act as she wishes on the stage, but when she is no longer in a space that is built for a performance, the reality behind the facade is suddenly revealed.  If Furina de Fontaine really is all knowing and all knowledgeable, why would she need to hide behind her advisor in the face of questions?” 

Neuvillette almost audibly heard something click in his brain.  “You are staying away so she can better maintain her image?” He pushed the door to the Epiclese open, welcoming in the sunlight.

You snapped your fingers, “Correct!” You dusted your shoulder off as you passed through the door.  “She MUST rely on herself. There is no glancing to the sidelines for reassurance or answers, this solution removes all distractions.”

The Iudex nodded, thoughtful.  “I believe I’m beginning to understand.” 

“I’m glad,” you took in a deep breath of air as you began to make the long trek towards the Fountain of Lucine,

“We are, of course, going to be working together for a very long time.”

“I figured I would find you here.”

Against the noise of rain pelting against his back, the Iudex lifted his head from his contemplative stupor. 

The dreary grays of the backdrop seemed to melt together similarly to how his thoughts slowly blended together to form one big amalgamated lump.  Still, in spite of the hail Mary of all storms  boring holes into the fabric of your umbrella, you stood face to face with him in the rain. 

“...”

“...”

He gave a half-hearted sigh, any coherent thought swimming in the puddles sloshing against the bottoms of his shoes. 

“Why are you out?” 

You didn’t answer to start with.  He didn’t know if it was because you were thinking over your words or if it was because you couldn’t hear him over the sound of water against the pavement. 

“Well, why are you out?” 

Answering a question with another question; typical. 

“I am troubled.” 

You hummed, moving your umbrella off your shoulder.  You held it between the two of you, equidistant so it’d stop the rain pouring all over the other man’s handsome features. 

“Troubled about what, Neuvillette?” 

The skin between his brows creased as he tried to come up with a good answer. 

He was a judge, someone that is meant to be completely unbiased in the face of the law.  He is to hear a case, come to the correct conclusion, and be able to live with himself at the end of the day. 

“A case.” 

You waited…

…and waited…

…and then waited some more. 

“...a case?” You tilted your head to the side. 

Neuvillette struggled to hold eye contact, letting his gaze drop to the rising flood.  “It was a case of theft, a single mother.” 

You gave a knowing hum.  “I see.  Have you come to the conundrum of justice versus fairness?” 

Again, you waited on a response. 

“...It isn’t so much that I haven’t seen cases like this before, it was something about the desperation on her face as she begged for leniency I was unable to grant her.” 

You nodded again.  “Still, am I correct to assume you have come to the moral dilemma of fairness versus justice?” 

His frown only deepened.  “I do not understand what you mean.” 

You poked a finger to your temple, “Well, logically, you are aware that theft is a crime.  You know that it is just and correct to dole out a sentence for a crime."

“...”

You poked him in the chest, “But you feel like the sentence is unfair because she had no other choice.”  

“...”

“You, as the Iudex, are unable to give her leniency because she committed a crime, but your heart wants to right the injustices she and her child are forced to endure,” You gestured towards the streets.  “The Court of Fontaine rarely sees those less fortunate unless they are begging.  Despite being the ones in charge, those in the Court are shielded from the problems of the common person.  You aren’t used to seeing someone in a situation where crimes become a necessity.” 

“...I suppose I am not.” 

You nodded again, “You see her, you hear her cries, you know her reasons, and yet, as a judge, you are unable to save her.  You must be wondering, why is that?” 

Like a lost puppy, Neuvillette’s head bobbed up and down. 

 "I’m afraid, I cannot answer,”  You reached into your breast pocket, blindly searching for your pocket watch.  “We can only have faith that the system will work in its due time.  Pray that the Fortress of Meropide treats her well, ask of Focalors to look over the poor child in the House of the Hearth.” 

“...”

“...”

“...”

The corner of your lips quirked up in a smile.  “What can be considered a misfortune can actually be a blessing in disguise.” 

Neuvillette tilted his head to the side. 

You gestured to the falling water,  “Rain may be commonplace in Fontaine, but in areas of Teyvat, rain is so rare it’s considered a sign or blessing.” 

“...That may be so.”

You adjusted your grasp on the umbrella.  “I am not originally from Fontaine.  Where I am from, rainfall this heavy would be considered a wonderful blessing.”

“...”

You waited for a response from him.  However, he didn’t seem to have one to give. 

“...”

You reached a hand out to him.  

He stared at it for a moment.  

You did your best to smile. 

“What is this for?” 

“Well,” you began, “You seem to be in low spirits.  I thought perhaps I would do my best to help shift your perspective.   There will be no convincing you unless there is some kind of change of pace.”

He frowned.  “Do you intend to lead me somewhere?” 

You shook your head.  

“...Well, what do you intend to do in any case?” 

You gestured to the water cascading down the sides of the plastic umbrella, “I want to celebrate a bountiful rain.”  

His sour expression only seemed to deepen as he looked around.  “I don’t understand what there is to celebrate.  We are in Fontaine.  Rain is an impediment to daily life.” 

You sighed, “Well, I want to help reframe your thoughts.”  You pointed to him, “Your perspective on the rain is inherently negative.  You believe it’s nothing but a nuisance.”  

“...”

You placed a hand over your heart, “It might have been a while since I’ve made a trip home, but still, everytime the rain is plentiful, it brings a smile to my face.” 

Once again, he didn’t respond.   Wordlessly, his gloved hand slipped into your own. 

Tentatively, you dropped the umbrella to the ground, facing the full wrath of the droplets soaking into your expensive suit.  

Immediately, Neuvillette’s face twisted in alarm. 

Still, you took his other hand in your own, beginning the steps to the traditional Fontainian Waltz.  

His mouth opened to speak, but it seemed without the shield of the umbrella, you couldn’t hear the sound of his protests.   Instead, you dropped one of his hands to bring him into a messy twirl. 

He flailed awkwardly for a moment, cheeks lighting up a red hue as he did his best not to slip on the wet bricks. It was more than obvious he was used to dancing the lead.   Even in his embarrassment, it seemed he didn’t have the heart to stop you. 

At the sound of a jovial laugh, even as the sky cried around the two of you, he felt his burning cheeks begin to light up in flames. 

Slowly, but surely, the clouds began to part. 

Another twirl, a few more shuffling paces, a misstep from him, more snickers at his expense.

Another handful of steps, and this time he would be the one to twirl you around.

It seemed time melded into a loop, nothing more than a concept that happened to slip your mind. The rain dissipated to nothing more than a fond memory.

As the dance came to a close, you coughed into the palm of your glove, trying to clear your throat.  “Are you feeling any better now, Monsieur Neuvillette?” 

“Just Neuvillette. Monsieur feels much too formal.”

Your polite smile stretched upwards just a little more as your shoes created little ripples in the surface of the unnaturally large puddles.  “I’ll take it that you are feeling better, then?” 

“Much.  Thank you.” 

You nodded again, “Well, I want to continue our discussion from earlier–about the mother and her upcoming sentence.” 

“...hm?” 

You chuckled, “Did you forget already?” 

He shook his head, “Of course not!” He tapped his cane against the ground, “It’s simply the fact I lack understanding for why you are bringing up the subject again.” 

You hummed, playfully incredulous.  “Yes, yes, anyways, let me make my point,” You cleared your throat once again, “Think of her sentence as a new beginning for both her and her child.  The Fortress of Meropide is by no means a kind place, but it is no crueler than the same streets that forced her to become a thief in the first place.” 

He tucked an arm behind his back. 

“Just as you viewed the rain as a nuisance, she views her sentence as a punishment.  In reality, I believe the situation is a blessing in disguise,”  You made a circular motion with your wrist, “Both her and her child will be cared for by their respective shelters.  She will have a job to occupy her time, a source of income, and her and her child will go to sleep in a warm bed, well fed.  Mother and son are only going to be separated for a short period of time, hopefully when they are reunited, the mother will have found steady employment in the Fortress.”

“Your health is beginning to get worse.”

Your eyes trailed behind you. “I'm surprised you noticed, my Lady. You've been busy as of late.”

Furina clicked her tongue, shaking her head dismissively. “What kind of archon would I be if I was not aware of my personal retainer’s health? You underestimate me.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking her nose affectionately. “I am your advisor, not your retainer nor your assistant. I am aware of your struggles, you don't need to pretend when it's just the two of us.”

Her cheeks puffed up angrily, rubbing the red blurb on her face. “Even if nobody is around, that doesn't mean you can embarrass me!”

You reached into your pocket to pull out a handkerchief, laughter turning into coughing behind a palm. You held the cloth over your mouth, feeling much too weak and pitiful for your own good. “Apologies, Lady Furina,” you sputtered out, “I will refrain from putting you in such a position in the future.”

She huffed, turning up her nose. “I expect nothing less from you.”

You took a deep breath, wiping your face with your kerchief. Stilling your breathing, you gave a cursory glance at the “Hydro Archon”. After so long of suffering, it pained you to know that she was indeed so far away from the finish line. “My Lady, I am afraid my time may come sooner rather than later.”

Her eyes widened. “You can't mean you're...”

You shook your head, doing your best to suppress another laugh for the sake of your throat, “No! Gods, no. I am anything but fragile, I will make it perfectly fine.”

She let out a groan, immediately taking to beating on your arm indignantly. “You infidel! You made me believe you were going to pass away! How cruel!”

You shielded yourself from her attacks playfully, backing up and raising your hands to stop her, “How terrible, Furina! You're attacking a sick man in broad daylight!”

She let another irritated groan slip, smacking your arm once more, “Only because you attacked me first!”

You cocked your head to the side, “I did not!”

“Did too!” She pointed an accusatory finger, “You attacked my emotional wellbeing! How was I supposed to be able to recover from the death of my most treasured advisor?”

You placed a hand over your heart, “You mean it, my lady?”

Her cheeks puffed up again, swelling a brilliant claret. She only grew more incensed as you continued to poke at her. Though, instead of using your words, your failure to quash a smile was more than enough to provoke her.

Still, as the merciful and benevolent archon she was, she pardoned your sins.

She crossed her arms, “When are you leaving?”

“Leaving?”

You felt a prick of anxiety inject its way into your nervous system. “Ah, Neuvillette, how lovely to see you again.”

Furina also paused in her tracks at the familiar voice. She remained silent.

“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance again, Lady Furina, [name],” he offered out a hand for you to shake. Hastily, you tucked your handkerchief in your breast pocket. “What is this about leaving?”

You took his hand in your own, “Nothing drastic, simply an appointment I must be on time for. Regrettably, I will be unable to spectate the proceedings of today’s trial.”

Neuvillette nodded, “I see. There will always be the archives in my office in case you'd like to catch up with the case material at any point.”

You nodded, humming with a courteous smile. “Perhaps I will take you up on that offer.”

Furina finally took the chance to speak up, “You have yet to answer my question, Monsieur. As your superior, I believe I am privy to such information.”

You diverted your attention from Neuvillette, pondering for a moment. “Around 15:00? I believe that should be ample time to make my appointment.”

Neuvillette perked up immediately, “Ah, is this in regards to your cough?”

Nodding, you turned your attention to the Grand Theatre, “Unfortunately it is. Usually, I would've recovered by this point, but because it's persisting I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Furina pulled her own small pocketwatch from where it was stashed. It popped open with a quiet, ‘click!’ “It seems we’ll have to cut this chance meeting short, Guests will be arriving soon for the trial.”

Neuvillette nodded, “I suppose we should be heading inside to take our seats,” He made a vague motion with a gloved hand, “Shall we?”

“Furina, would you be so kind as to allow us a moment alone?” She cocked her head to the side at your suggestion, but she relented.

“Alright, but before I leave, can I request just one thing?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Dutifully, you nodded.

She beckoned you closer with a finger.

It was your turn to raise a brow at her.

Still, you leaned in.

She tugged on your sleeve.

You leaned in even further.

“Come back in one piece,” she whispered, pinching the shell of your ear.

You gave a yelp as you tugged your head away from her assaulting fingers, rubbing the new crescent marks her nails left behind. “Now, was that really necessary, my Lady?”

She gave a triumphant smile, though you could tell by the way it wilted at the corners, she was less than thrilled. She placed a hand over her heart, giving her signature bow, “Perfectly necessary. Now, allow me to excuse myself.” Still, as she stood, she pointed an accusatory finger, “Keep this brief, after all Monsieur Neuvillette has a trial to preside over.”

“Of course,” you placed a hand over your own heart, mirroring her as you lowered your head, “I wouldn't dream of delaying any proceedings.”

She allowed herself one more parting glance before scampering off into the building to take her seat.

Watching her figure disappear, you finally returned your gaze back to Neuvillette. You coughed into your fist, trying to alleviate the pressure in your trachea. He only observed you silently.

“Neuvillette?”

“Yes?”

“Take a walk with me,” regretfully, you tacked on, “I'd enjoy your company one last time.”

It was unlike such a building to be so quiet. Still, given the hour, the Palais Mermonia lay dormant.

Only the Iudex and his retainer remained. Despite his more than spacious residential quarters, his chambers were too restrictive on this night in particular. They felt empty. They felt devoid of something, he just didn't know what.

So, instead of sleeping, he found himself running his hand along the cold marble walls. Trailing the corridor without a particular destination in mind, the candle in his other hand flickered and cast its shadow against the dark. It dawned on Neuvillette that he truly neglected the rest of his home the longer he walked. A vast dining hall, an equally large kitchen, a comically extensive library; all completely left to rot as he worked himself to death.

As he reached his hand to turn the knob of another door, he felt a sense of trepidation wash over him. One that wasn't present when he entered any of the other rooms.

Why?

…

He didn't know.

He let his grip lay slack on the handle for another moment while he wracked his brain for any ideas. What was this room? Had he been here before? Why could he feel his hand shaking?

Finally, he put those thoughts out of his mind when the lock clicked open and the wooden door swung open with a loud ‘creeeaaakkkk’.

‘Ah,’ he realized, ‘This was one of his rooms.’

A grand study, unchanged by time, greeted him. It was as if you'd never left. Sprawling bookshelves climbing up each wall, ladders haphazardly laid to lean on the dusty spines of forgotten books. An even larger than life desk at the far end, spotted with unsigned paperwork and long dried up ink pots. Even sadder, a single lamplight lily wilted in its pot at the corner of your desk.

He felt his heart crumble when he realized he had been the one to put it there.

The little makeshift lounge was equally well-preserved. A porcelain tea set he remembered so fondly collected dust at the center of the coffee table. Your favorite book lay across the arm of your favorite cushioned seat, a pressed flower bookmark denoting where you'd left off.

Neuvillette was almost tempted to pick up the novel himself, but he was afraid of two things. One, he didn't want to ruin this serenity, this moment frozen in time. Two, he didn't know if the book would actually hold itself together based on its age.

The armchair groaned as Neuvillette rested his weight on it. He felt a little bit like a loser, sitting alone in the middle of an empty room. Especially because the longer he sat, the more alone he felt. How long had it been since you invited him into your study like this? Could he even remember? It'd been around a century since you'd left…

…or had it been longer?

It only seemed to homogenize and blur the more he tried to remember. Years were starting to look more and more like the last the longer his monotonous life droned on.

It was so bad he couldn't remember how long ago it was he saw your face, but he remembered it. He definitely remembered what had been said.

'“Since you're needed elsewhere, I'm afraid much of what I want to say will go unsaid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I apologize for trying to deceive you, I truly am sorry,” you tapped your cane against the ground, “I was so close to getting away with it, too.”

“Deceiving me?” His expression shifted, “About what?”

“I’m leaving, yes,” You sighed, “But I'm afraid I won't be coming back.”

It felt like his heart stopped completely.

“I didn't want to drag you into matters that were already settled between myself and Focalors, but I know how you feel about me,” you awkwardly switched the hand gripping your cane, “When I thought about how devastated you'd be when you'd learned I'd lied to you, I decided I had to tell you.”

“But why?” Neuvillette asked, “Why would you only tell me now?”

A grimace overtook your features as the skies began to softly weep his sorrows, “You mustn't cry Neuvillette, Fontaine will need your strength now more than ever.”

“Do you really expect me to be strong in a moment like this? Am I not allowed to mourn?” He went to reach for your face, but his arm fell back to his side dejectedly. “You really won't be returning?”

“Knowing what I must do, I also know it will be the last of me.”

“Do you really need to leave today?” The Iudex grappled for some kind of opportunity, “Just one day, if I can have that, I can make peace with this.”

You shook your head, “I've put this off for too long already, I was afraid Fontaine wouldn't be ready for me to leave, I was even more afraid Furina wouldn't be able to continue on without me.”

“Not even a day?”

“I've made up my mind.” You finally let yourself rest a gloved hand on his cheek, watching his posture deflate while he leaned into your touch, “I'm eager to make this sacrifice for Fontaine, but I'm less than eager to leave you behind.”

“Why must you be the one to do it?” His voice came out like a whisper.

“I can't tell you,” you brushed your thumb across his cheek, wiping the rain away from his eyes, “But I want you to know before I am gone that you were loved, Neuvillette. I loved you, and I will die loving you.”

“Don't say that, please, don't say that.”

“Then, can I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything, anything I can offer.”

You smiled, “Take care of Furina, and take care of Fontaine.”’

How cruel, Neuvillette thought.

How cruel for Furina to leave him such a painful reminder this close to the very bed he slept in every night.

How awful for her to keep her hopes up when Neuvillette knew you wouldn’t return.

After all, what other reason would there be for her to keep your office so well maintained, so perfectly preserved and untouched.

It felt like Neuvillette was sitting in an empty tomb.

The wooden legs of the chair shrieked against the tile of the floor in the deafeningly silent study. He didn’t know where his feet were taking him, but he couldn’t decide on whether he wanted to leave or if he needed to stay longer.

Still, he paused in front of your former desk.

He didn't know why.

He also didn't know why he sat down in your nice leather office chair, rolling himself in so he could rest his head on the cool wooden desktop.

He didn't know why he was disappointed it didn't smell like you anymore. Of course it didn't smell like you, it'd been at least a hundred years since you were here. But maybe if he dug deep into his memories, he could pretend it did.

If he had gotten to have just one day, he could've made peace with your passing.

But how do you say goodbye to someone you considered to be your forever in just a few short moments?

Neuvillette couldn't come up with a good answer before he fell asleep again.

“Tall, lean, and emaciated. It was entirely unexpected for him to wake up at all.”

Furina clicked her tongue, dismissively. “I may not be the Hydro Archon any longer, but that doesn't mean you are allowed to freely criticize me. I asked to see him, I care not what state he's in.”

The attendant bowed stiffly, shoulders scrunched up. “I-I apologize, my lady,” He stammered, “I was unaware of what your intentions in meeting up with this man were, I believed his physical condition to be-”

She gave an irritated huff, puffing up her chest to express her discontent. Instantly, the man’s jaw snapped shut. She waved her hand. When the attendant didn't move, she waved her hand again.

Still, he didn't move.

“Helloooo? Do you have any idea what's going on?” Her expression shifted to be entirely displeased, “You are dismissed.”

“O-Oh!”

She watched the man scurry off like a sad puppy with its tail between its legs.

Finally, she turned her attention to the rather large door to the private room tucked away inside the infirmary of the Fortress of Meropide. She was left alone with her thoughts. Consequently, she could now focus on the nerves creeping up her spine.

It had been a month since the prophecy had been fulfilled, since she had saved the entirety of Fontaine.

She was free to be Furina now, free from her duties as the human half of Focalors.

It was exactly why she felt so confused about her anxiety of whatever lay beyond this door.

Her hands were clammy, her breathing accelerating. Her vision was starting to swim, and oh archons, was that a stress migraine brewing? For all the hard work she put into this, she didn't seem to be feeling the payoff.

But she couldn't be thinking like that now!

Instead of letting her doubts and worries consume her, she placed a shaky hand to the cold metal handle. Her movements were unsure as she wrapped her fingers around the bar. It felt like all the strength in her arm evaporated the longer she held onto the handle without doing anything.

So she used what little strength was left to sharply tug the door open.

"..."

“Furina?”

"..."

By the gods.

“Furina-” the voice was an exhausted rasp, “You have to tell me the seal didn't break, the prophecy didn't happen, I can't have failed-”

Her mouth opened to reassure you everything was fine, but the next moment her lips were curling as she tried to bite back a sniffle.

You took this to mean the worst, eyebrows curling upward in despair. A shaky hand reached towards your face, layering over your mouth.

Still, even when seeing you so worried and disappointed in yourself, she couldn't bring herself to cough up any words of affirmation.

'You didn't fail! Everyone was saved!’ she wanted to scream.

But instead she took a shaky first step over to the terribly thin cot you were situated on. Her arm absentmindedly raised to reach toward you.

“No, no, no, no, no-” Your hand raked through your already disheveled hair.

She took another step.

You pressed your hands together, hands clasped tight as you looked to the skies above, “I'm sorry, Egeria, Focalors, I promised I would- I swore-”

She began to walk.

“I promised Fontaine would be in good hands- I never meant to lie to you, Archons above if you may hear, forgive me-”

She could feel her own tears begin to slide down her cheeks as she watched you begin to openly weep, to pray and beg for some kind of mercy you did not need. She felt like a bag of bones as she took a seat next to you on the edge of the cot.

Your attention finally snapped to her, “Furina, my darling Furina, to you I am the most sorry-” You took a gasping breath, chest shaking as you heaved out another weak cry, “You have suffered in silence for centuries without me and I was unable to do the very least I promised to you-”

Her arm felt equally weightless when you picked up one of her limp hands to wrap up in your larger palms. Before you could continue to beg for forgiveness, her facial features twisted into just the smallest smile.

You almost didn't notice it until she started laughing.

With a renewed vigor, she wrapped her other hand around one of yours. Tears of relief streaming down her face, she all but shouted a victory cry in the middle of the quiet infirmary room, “We did it! We really did it! You don't need to be forgiven because we did it!”

As she celebrated, her happy tears flowed down her face, you didn't know how to respond at all.

“We… did it?”

She nodded quickly, all but shaking. “Yes, it's over, [name], we can finally rest.”

You blinked again, all but ceasing your tears.

“We can… rest? But- but what about-”

Your mind filtered between all the different things you could say.

What about your promise to Egeria? The deal you made with Focalors? You had sworn you would lay your life down to pave the pathway for a free Fontaine, a Fontaine without a curse lingering overhead. The seal you had sworn to protect until your last breath, it had broken… but it was still okay.

You were still here.

But what had happened? Were there any complications or bumps in the road? What about Furina? What would she do in her life as a cursed human? What would YOU do? And then there was…

“Neuvillette!” You suddenly snapped back to full alert, “What about Neuvillette?”

She smacked your arm, “You managed to survive and your first thought isn't even about yourself!” She sighed, wiping a tear from her cheek, “300 years has done nothing to change you.”

It was as though her words went in one ear and out the other, “What has become of him? Is he alright? He’s been well, hasn't he? Please tell me nothing too awful has happened to him.”

This time, she smacked your arm with an added aggression, “[name]! Neuvillette is fine! Would you please relax?” Still despite urging him to relax, she couldn't help the way her hands seemed to move on their own. Tiny claps, each ringing in the empty room with a joyous sound, “It's only seeming to sink in now that we are free.” She paused again, “Free, isn't that such a beautiful word?”

You nodded, but your thoughts wandered. “Indeed.”

Furina tutted, crossing her arms, “And what exactly has your mind wandering this time? Don't tell me it's still Neuvillette!”

You sheepishly averted your eye contact.

She pouted, “Well? Out with it!”

You sighed, “Does he know? That I am still…”

She hummed thoughtfully, “I didn't think to tell him. I was far too busy trying to find you, you rascal.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “However, I can assure you he will be nothing less than overjoyed to see you.”

You swallowed a lump of spit, “He will?”

She nodded, “Even all these years later, he hasn't moved on. You're lucky he is as loyal a man as can be, otherwise he might have moved on.”

“He waited… 300 years? Without any other relationships?”

“I would hardly believe it myself if I were you, but I've seen him make the trek to your old study with my own two eyes!” She folded her hands in her lap, “He really is as loyal at they come.”

You frowned, “That doesn't make me feel any better.”

She tilted her head to the side, “Why not? After all, you two were in love, weren't you?”

“I..." you began, "...don't know. Silly, irrational fears, I guess."

But you definitely knew.

How does one go about saying hello without a proper goodbye?

Especially when there wasn't supposed to be a "you" to say "hello" to in the first place.

“I came as soon as I heard-”

Furina stood from where she was seated just outside your room in the infirmary, “You’ll have to wait,  Siegewinne is with him right now.” 

His knuckles turned white around the handle of his cane, “Surely, she wouldn’t be bothered if I just stood in, if I could just–”

“Neuvillette,” Furina warned, “Whatever Siegewinne orders is in the best interests of her patient.  It isn’t our place to question her.” 

His hands were shaking as he tried to plead his case, moving closer to the door, “Lady Furina, you don’t understand.  I have to see him, I must see that it is truly him, that he is truly alive–” 

He was rambling at this point, so dizzyingly frenzied he could barely feel Furina’s smaller hands curl around his biceps, “Calm down!” 

“I-”

“No, no more arguments,” she shook him gently, “You need to pull yourself together before you become another patient.   You’re paler than I’ve ever seen you.” 

He went to open his mouth again, but one look from the former archon sent his jaw snapping shut.  The two stood in silence for a moment, just staring at each other.  

“...”

“...”

After a long moment, punctuated with labored breathing and more words exchanged through the eyes than could be described, the Iudex finally peeled his lips open to ask a final question. 

“Is it… really him?”

Furina let his words hang in the air for a moment before asking a question of her own, “Will knowing help you settle down while we wait?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, “but I feel so strongly that I must know.”

She chewed her lip contemplatively, weighing both options in her head.  Before she could decide, the lock on the door quietly clicked open in the tensely blanketed room outside of the infirmary.

The door opened with the knowing creak of old, heavy metal.  The pitter patter of little steps on the dark floor seemed to snap Neuvillette out of the little stance he was in with Furina.   He surged towards the door like a bullet, almost tripping over himself and almost knocking Siegewinne over in his haste.  

He couldn’t quite remember what all happened in the intermission.  Things like fumbling over questions, getting answers he couldn’t remember anymore were plucked out of his mind like the petals of a dying flower.  

Yes, your condition was stable.  

No, you could not consume solid food seeing as you’d just taken your medication.  (Much to Furina’s dismay, she had brought some of your favorite pastries. ) 

No, you would not be taken off of bedrest anytime soon. 

But yes, despite it all, you were in proper condition to accept visitors.  

He didn’t know what he was expecting to see beyond the closed metal door, but it wasn’t what he actually ended up seeing.  This wasn’t how he remembered you.  But it also was too close of a resemblance to assert that you were someone else or even an imposter wearing your skin. 

‘Such dull eyes, such pale skin…’

He toyed with the cuff of his sleeve.  Unconsciously, he found himself gritting his teeth, standing in the open doorway while he waited for you to acknowledge him.  He was reluctant to disturb the tranquil stillness that settled over your room.  He was afraid that if he moved or spoke, something would happen.  Something would crack and the illusion of your return would shatter and scatter into a million pieces on the floor.  

But the way your eyes lit up in recognition, the strained smile set on your face,  it was starting to sink in that you really weren’t gone forever.  You were right there, you were breathing, and you were alive against all odds.  “Neuvillette? Is that really you?”  Sweetly, the skin at the corners of your eyes crinkled, “You really made the trip to the Fortress just to visit me?” 

He could feel himself getting choked up at the sound of your voice, as rasped and painful as it sounded.  No matter how grating it would’ve been to anyone else, it was as soothing and melodic as a chorus of angels.  Even as he swallowed the spit clogging his airway, he still struggled to speak,  “Of course I did.”

“...”

“...Did you think I wouldn’t?” 

“...”

“...”

Carefully, he tugged the heavy door closed behind him.  He sat in the rather uncomfortable folding chair positioned at the side of your cot, nails digging little smiles into his palm even through his gloves.   What was once comfortable silence thickened and lay over your heads like a thick fog.  

Eventually, the sharp-edge of your voice cut through the mistlike tension like a blade, “Neuvillette, I have a question.” 

“What’s wrong?” Immediately, it felt like he was on the defensive.  The Iudex could not ascertain why, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood anxiously. 

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you reassured, weakly clearing your throat, “I’m just curious about something.” 

Your words did little to quell his worries, but still, he nodded his head as if they did.  “What is it?”

Your limp arms rose from the bed, fingers weakly and clumsily fidgeting with one another.  “...Did you wait for me?” 

“Hm, I suppose I did.” 

It seemed his answer only caused your thumbs to twiddle more aggressively where they lay, “Well… Why?”

He went to answer, but like they seemed to be doing more and more today, they caught in his throat on the way out.  

Why had he waited? 

Had he meant to wait? 

Or was that just a product of his incessant work schedule?

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, just barely nipping at the skin with elongated fangs.  Ultimately, he settled for answering as truthfully as he possibly could, “...I didn’t see any reason to seek anyone else.” 

Your thumbs stopped fidgeting, fingers interlocking, “What do you mean?  Did  you not fear being alone?” 

He tilted his head to the side, “Did you ever fear being alone?” 

“...”

His body posture seemed to relax, “I had enough when I was with you, there was never any longing for something I felt I could not have again.”  

“That is…” You trailed off.  It seemed the words were lost in translation as you went to finish your thought.  The same tense silence settled between the two of you once more. 

“...”

“...”

“You… aren’t upset with me?”

The Iudex looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.  “What in the world could I be upset over?”

You averted eye contact, “I lied to you.  I told you I would not survive and then I turn up again as sick as a dog without much to show for it.” 

Neuvillette frowned himself, “You aren’t giving yourself enough credit.  You and Lady Furina managed to fool the Heavenly Principles and save the entirety of Fontaine, is that not something to be proud of?  Do you value your sacrifice so little?” 

“Of course I value my sacrifice!”  You countered, indignant.  Still, your voice lowered to little more than a murmur as you managed to spit out, “I’m afraid I just seem to value you more than that entirely.” 

His eyes, always imperceptibly sharp, seemed to soften just a little bit. 

“You might not realize, but while time seemed to pass here and things changed, giving up my physical body to maintain the seal on the Primordial Sea meant I was stuck without any senses.  It was such an incredibly lonely existence,”  Your eyes trained on your lap, “I did not expect to survive, and I was sure that even if I did survive, it wouldn’t be for long.  To be able to sit here even a month later is more than I allowed myself to hope for.”

“...”

“...So why is it that I feel that was a lie?”  Why is it that I hoped you would wait for me and I would be able to see you again?” Your expression dropped even further, “Why is it that I am still hoping you hold some kind of affection for me, even if I know it would be entirely foolish to love a man you expected to never see again?” 

“...”

“...”

Tentatively, his hand reached out to rest on top of your interlocked hands.  

You looked up to meet his gaze. 

“...If I still did?” 

You laughed, as forced as it sounded, “I would call you a fool.  A fool who is in love with a man that will likely take eons to recover, and even if I did manage to recover, I would only manage to remain a hollow shell of who I was.” 

His lips pulled into a tight line,  “I think you are the fool for once.”

You frowned. 

“You provide me with a feeling of wholeness that I have the inability to find with anyone else.  Whether you are the same as you used to be or weaker, bedbound, whatever you wish to call yourself, I will never be able to find that feeling with another.”  He squeezed your hands in his,  “You are indispensable, so fret not.  No matter how long you take to recover, I shall stay by your side every step of the way.”

there's a note attached to the side of the phone booth, read it?

" writers block tried to get me but it didn't work 💯💯💯 "

This is the longest its ever taken me to update I start banging my head against the wall

Constantly conflicted about writing and then feeling sad about not writing and suddenly, oh shit college !

I will say that once I fall into a rhythm updates will definitely become regular again but probably not as quick as they used to be. I fear I am no longer the man that can black out and publish 7.5k words of smut and or gay hurt/comfort every other day.

Aside from that I am good and well!!! Expect some more content from me in less than a month from now

I was considering doing a 200 follower special, but I fear that has been pushed off the table in favor of focusing on the long-form book I've been brewing up and planning.

Of course, I'll still be writing the requests I have in the queue, but the updates will probably be staggered with updates for the long form book

thank you, god bless 💯💯

- love, operator t-19

[cheesecakethots]

Date Night

Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader

after being left alone by your date in a ballroom you weren’t even invited to, you make conversation with a strange man that has bindings over his forehead.

tw: murder, sexual tension, you make out with him which is a little bit cringe, romance is a little rushed but too bad, yan!chrollo, i wrote this a year ago and never posted it so excuse the shoddy writing

this is a soulmate au except chrollo is only one who can sense that you’re his soulmate so it isn’t really mentioned, maybe i’ll make his pov at some point.

“You appear to be as bored as I am.”

The lit cigarette in your hand almost topples into the darkness when you jump at hearing a voice behind you. You don’t turn, instead leaning back into your relaxed position against the balcony railing, facing out into the night sky.

You shrug, “Bored enough that I was considering throwing myself over.”

The stranger chuckles, and you swear the sound of it sends something straight to your belly.

“If you’re so bored, why not go home?”

Finally, you turn to look at him. You’re certain that if you were in a cartoon you’d have heart eyes at seeing the strangely handsome man with an odd bandage on his head.

“I mean, you can probably tell,” you say, gesturing towards your outfit, one that you put on tonight in preparation for a nightclub and not a ballroom, “that I’m someone’s plus one rather than an actual guest. That someone has gone off with another woman, leaving me here with a dead phone and no idea where I am. I have more pride than to go inside and ask those judgemental assholes to call me a taxi.” You look him up and down from the corner of your eye, taking note of his no doubt expensive suit. “No offence.”

“None taken. Does that mean that someone is looking for you?”

You sigh, frowning a little. “Probably not. My friends had basically left me alone at the club anyway. I don’t really enjoy going out to bars all that much, so when some guy in a nice suit offered me to be his date to some fancy ballroom party, I couldn’t pass it up. Now I wish I had just gotten a taxi home then and there.”

The man nods, seemingly in a bit of thought, before coming closer and planting himself next to you, also leaning against the railing. You can’t help but side eye how tight the suit is around the muscle of his arms.

“Your date and friends don’t sound like the best of company.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“May I ask for your name?”

You give him it, “And yours?”

He pauses for a moment, but not long enough for you to think too much on it.

“Chrollo… and, if you don’t mind, I have a proposal. It might help with your boredom.”

You nod, tilting your head a little in curiosity.

“Well, I came outside here to see if anyone wasn’t present in the ballroom. I have a plan set up so that I can thieve the antiques and artworks present in this building, as well as the jewellery being worn by the guests.” He hums, tilting his head a little at you. “You’re rather interesting. I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing some of the loot with you, provided you give some assistance.”

You stare at him with a blank expression for a little while. Then, your lip twitches and a loud laugh escapes you.

“Alright,” you breathe out, wiping away a stray tear, “deal. Make sure to leave that fancy pearl necklace the lady with the red hair has. I’m sure it’d suit me better.”

The man smiles, and for but a moment you take note of something other than amusement in the look, but it quickly goes.

“It’s a deal, then. When would you like to begin?”

“Hmm,” you hum, bottom lip jutting out and finger pressing to your chin jokingly. “Probably soon, it’ll be starting to get light in a few hours. Rich people melt in direct sunlight, y’know. Don’t want them taking the loot with them.”

Chrollo laughs, and it’s a gentle sound that has your heart beating faster.

“It’s a shame, though,” you murmur. “As a kid I always wanted to go to a big fancy ballroom in a big fancy dress and dance around with someone until my feet hurt. I doubt I’ll ever get the chance to be invited to one of these again.”

You sigh, eyes drifting from him back out to the scenery beyond the balcony. His own never stray from your face, a fact you don’t take notice of.

“I disagree.”

You raise an eyebrow, but say nothing more, and it prompts him to continue.

“You’re more interesting than all those inside put together. If I had been the one who had brought you here, I wouldn’t have left your side, and I would most definitely want to bring you with me again. Besides,” he says, voice shifting to a more teasing tone, “I’m sure once our little job is over, you would have enough money to come to these as you please.”

You giggle, blushing a little at the sweetness in his previous words, “Oh, with all the money I make after this job I’ll have my own ballroom to dance in. I’ll let you come visit it, if you’d like.”

The man grins, and god you almost swoon. “Oh? You’re sure you’d allow a man like me into your home, sweetheart?”

You’re considering letting him into your bed at this point.

“Hm, why would I not? I thought you were my partner in crime in all of this?”

“Well, I suppose you’re right in that,” he stands up straight, and a hand extends towards you. “How does a dance sound then, partner?”

“Sorry, partner. I’m not going back in there, at least not for a while.”

“I didn’t say anything about going back inside the ballroom.”

“Huh? Ou-Out here?”

“Why not?”

“As cliché as it sounds, I don’t really know how to dance all that well,” you admit rather awkwardly, and he laughs once more. You’re beginning to become addicted to the sound.

“You don’t have to worry, it’s only me out here. I can teach you the basics. I promise, it’s not hard, partner.”

You don’t say that you’d rather not embarrass yourself in front of the most attractive man you’ve ever met, instead hesitantly placing your hand in his own.

His skin is colder than you expect it to be, and when his other hand envelopes around you, gently holding onto your waist, you almost jolt. He leans in close to you, and the faint minty scent of his breath has your head feeling light.

“No need to be so rigid,” he murmurs quietly, “Just do as I do. I won’t laugh at you.”

How did you end up in this situation again?

He takes a slow step back, pulling you with him, and your foot accidentally treads on his own.

“Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” the man whispers, continuing to hold you as though you were made of the finest material.

A few moments pass of what you consider his graceful movements and your awkward shuffling.

“You are a natural at this, sweetheart.”

“No need to lie to me. Maybe next time we’ll bump into each other at the club and I’ll teach you how to move on the dance floor. Or, I would if I knew how. Maybe we can learn together… then again,” you eye him up and down, “you don’t seem the ‘club’ type, Chrollo.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Were you two always this close to each other? One wrong move and you might end up brushing lips. You’re not opposed to the idea.

“Oh, maybe not to others, but I’m good at reading people.” He pauses for a moment. “I would describe you as a book I just can’t seem to put down.”

“You can lay me down instead, if you’d like.”

He halts rather suddenly, and you register the words that just tumbled from your mouth with a gasp.

“S-Sorry! Shit, shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to say that-“

Chrollo’s hands are tightening around your flesh within a fraction of a second, and suddenly his lips are moulded against your own, your body being pushed back until it’s pressed against the brick wall behind you.

If you were more coherent, you would be wondering what happened to the sweet gentleman you had been conversing with only a few moments prior. Maybe you would wonder if he had been replaced by some wild animal, evident by the desperation in his kisses.

But you don’t care about all that, all you can think about is how hot the air has suddenly turned, how there’s a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach forming, and how good this feels.

Chrollo pulls back from you for a moment, and through half-lidded eyes you’re able to catch sight of your smudged lipstick around his face. You can’t help but giggle at that, prompting a slight smile from him. It doesn’t last very long, as soon he’s moving lower, face pressing into the crevice of your neck and hands combing over your waist.

“I can’t believe I’d meet you here,” You swear you hear him mumble, but you don’t really have time to think on it, not when his body presses even further against you, and his hands ghost over the backs of your thighs.

“Jump.”

“Hu-Huh?”

He doesn’t give you much time to think about it, as you’re swept of your feet, thighs encircled around his waist and allowing him to move impossibly closer.

Something hard presses to the spot between your legs, and he quickly drinks up the gasp of his name you give in response.

“Oh my!”

It takes you a few moments in your lustful haze to realise that it was not your own voice you heard. Chrollo doesn’t even glance to the side at the no doubt horrified guest who had stumbled upon the two of you, instead sighing tiredly into the skin of your throat.

The poor intruder doesn’t stick around long, retreating back into the ballroom to no doubt call someone to kick the two of you out. Chrollo slowly places your legs back on the floor so that you can stand, and you’re tempted to tear off your own skin you’re so embarrassed.

“… God.” An awkward laugh bubbles out of you, and soon you’re wheezing uncontrollably, doubling over and your head pressing to Chrollo’s chest.

“A shame,” he murmurs. “I was enjoying myself… and by the sounds you were making, so were you.”

You fear this moment will plague you forever and ever.

“Maybe I should throw myself off of the balcony, after all.”

“I wouldn’t allow you to. How am I supposed to get the job done without my partner in crime?”

You laugh, a hand moving to your face so you can cover the blush that’s only growing worse by the second. “… I like you, Chrollo. I know this is a little, um… forward and, well, fast… but I want to keep speaking to you past this night. I-If that’s not what you’re after, that’s alright too…”

You’re not sure you can bring yourself to meet his gaze, especially not after the lengthy pause that follows.

“I would like to speak to you past this night as well... and… I like you, too.”

Maybe this night wasn’t a total disaster, after all. Maybe this is the beginning of something new for you.

“Alright, well… I’m going to go inside, and get a drink before we’re kicked out, if you’d like to join me. Looks like our master plan has yet to come into fruition.”

His hand meets your hip again, “I wouldn’t be so sure on that, partner… Shall we?”

“Wait, let me…” you raise a hand and softly wipe at the lipstick staining his lips and jaw.

“Don’t make me kiss you again.”

“Nope. No more PDA. I’ve learnt my lesson.”

He opens the door for you, and you breathe in a big breath of air. This is going to suck, but at least this weirdly charming man is with you.

As the two of you step inside, your eyes immediately find the food and drinks table, missing the sight of two strange men, one short and one large, on the stage.

“Ah, it seems Feitan and Franklin are ready.”

“Hm?”

You’re not sure what comes first, the ear piercing scream on the other side of the ballroom or the sudden darkness that blankets the area.

Another scream, and you jolt backwards, reminding yourself of Chrollo, who is still holding onto you, his grip only tightening and his front pressing to your back.

“Stay close to me. This’ll be over soon.”

“Wh-What?! Chrollo, I don’t-“

You yelp when something falls down beside you, the thud managing to be heard over the chorus of screams.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Someone cries out near you, “Call the-“

Something wet sprays across your neck and face, and another thud follows.

Is this real? Are you dreaming?

A flurry of gunshots are accompanied by brief flashes of light that illuminate the people fighting to get to the doors in front of you, treading and falling over each other in a scramble to escape.

Red. Red. Red. Every flash has you shaking at the sight of more and more blood, and less and less movement. The silence you soon hear is more deafening than anything else before it.

Someone groans, and a popping sound ensues. It is silent once more.

Maybe this is some prank, some elaborate joke set up by a morally bankrupt TV show, you just happen to be the poor sucker who-

Something cold wraps around your neck, and you taste vomit in the base of your throat.

“You were right. It does suit you better.”

[afreakingdork]

Deep Dive: Rise of the TMNT Donatello's Bad Boy Persona, His Cute, But Mean Type, and Why He is None of These Things

I made this presentation to delve into my take on Rise Donnie!

It was a power point, but I'm going to break it down here. I do want to preserve the first slide though because...

Did you know Black dahlia's aren't actually black? They're very dark red and in flower language they represent dishonesty!

Apropos, let's get into it...

Donnie is a Bad Liar

We see this throughout the show

“No? No… Of course I did… n't.”

"Uh, nothing. Just having a typical normal mystic free day."

"We are just typical, normal humans who got lost in the middle of our normal, everyday human lives. Nailed it."

"Oh man. Uh. This hurts me. Uh. I'm very sad?"

He has all the characteristics of a terrible liar. He sweats, his pitch warbles, his eyes dart, ect, everything you would expect.

Sarcasm! The Perfect Cover?

When Donnie does go for the use of sarcasm, he almost always points it out.

"I feel better already," he said without a hint of sarcasm."

"Oh, sure. Let me just load my tap-into-every-security-camera-in-New-York app. I'm sorry if that sounded like sarcasm, it wasn't. I am in."

Point Out the Obvious Much

However, when he doesn't point out the sarcasm, he also can't help but make mention of the oxymoron. We see this a lot, especially in Donnie vs. Witch Town.

"Oh yes very cool says Donnie as he quietly lets something go."

"Ooh, fireworks. Science never would have thought of something it was originally inventor of."

So basically, if Donnie tries to lie; he gives himself away. If Donnie tries to fudge the truth; he's compelled to make note of it.

I bring this all up to specifically tackle this sentence:

“So unfair. Although it is a boost for my emotionally unavailable bad boy image. “Y’ello.””

Why do I do so? Let me remind you of my first slide...

But how can that be? We just established that he's a bad liar. In the 'bad boy' line, he's not falling for any of his tells. He's body language gives no indication of lying. He doesn't make any note of sarcasm. No one after this line makes a face or corrects Donnie and he doesn't point out any discrepancies.

How could this be a lie?

Because Donnie himself doesn't know it's a lie.

Let Me Take You Back

Things I Did Unironically as a Teenager

Added Japanese honorifics to the end of my friends nicknames (-san, -chan, -kun)

Had my friends help me wrap myself up in caution tape for my birthday, but told people they made me

Wore a dog collar with a dog tag that had my name in Romanji on it

Had screen names like RubyBlueSango62 and blahweeblah626

But That’s Just Personal Experience!

Things Donnie has Unironically as a Teenager

"Ah, yes, so in this case a game of bask-eh-ball."

"Prepare to eateth thy words."

"Oh, hey guys. What’s the haps? Huh? Oh, oh this? I didn’t realize I had it on. This is my sweet new purple satin jacket- Got it from being a bit of a tech wiz. Purple Dragons. Members only. No big deal. Mm-hm. Well, you better grab some toast, fellas, 'cause you are all jelly!"

“It's Bootyyyshakker9000. Capital B and three Ys in booty.”

I believe it's a universal experience for teenagers to push boundaries. For so long, most parents decide everything for you. With hormones and growth, you want to experiment, but since autonomy is new, you try to break from the mold and do it uniquely. Anything that is outside your norm, especially things that swing wildly from what you once new seems especially exciting. From embellishing speech, to wearing specific clothing items, and even your first screen name, you don't know boundaries! It may be 'cringe' in the future, but when you first do it, it seems like the coolest thing ever! It's something that wholly represents you. This online space you. This you that is ungoverned! I'm an only child so I can't imagine, but I bet you especially want to do this when you have siblings. Where the shame in that?

I mean... Kat Haynes agrees with me on this...

Low Empathy

Now to get a little more serious. Alexithymia is a term that describes those who have difficulty feeling emotions. While not always associated with autism, it is more common in individuals with it. About 1 in 5 people who have autism also have alexithymia.

As already stated, it is clear the Donnie suffers from alexithymia. Most Donatello-centric conflicts in Rise have nothing to do with Donnie being emotionless and instead often deal with him lashing out due to his confusion or insecurities. We see this a lot especially in Witch Town where he is grappling with himself the entire episode. He's insecure about how he doesn't understand mysticism and he doesn't know how to process it or his place on the team. He's not emotionless, he's insecure when he doesn't understand something.

"Yes, feelings. Hot, cold, sleepy, hungry…"

"I don't normally feel things, but that one got through!"

Emotions on his Metaphorical Sleeve

Nothing about alexithymia says that you don't feel emotions. Instead, it's characterized by not understanding them. Donnie feels his emotions big and large just like Mikey does and especially if something is important to him, you'll see those reactions dialed up to eleven.

All Talk

While many think of the classic "semi-lethal" line and the "Speak for yourself" when Mikey says they aren't savages in regard to Donnie, he's not really the bad boy he plays himself up to be. When the theatrics are set aside, most of Donnie’s snap judgements are the altruistic kind or he thoughtfully plans out ways to not only take care of his family, but actively ensure their safety (to varying degrees of success, but that's not what we're saying here):

created devices which both counteracted his brother's flaws because they were getting them hurt

Used himself as a shield for Mikey on multiple occasions 

Risks his own safety and bodily harm especially in Turtle-dega Nights: The Ballad of Rat Man and Breaking Purple

Builds Escape pods for everyone 

Enters a sensory nightmare for the sake of the world

Often asks, especially Raph, if he's okay and looks out for the oldest brother

Yet the Presentation Continues?

Why yes, because there is another line of Donnie's that I want to tackle that I believe falls exactly in line with the 'bad boy image' one...

"Oh, you’re so cute, but so mean. Why do I always go for your type?"

You know what I'm about to posit again...

Insecure

As touched on previously, Donnie is insecure. He's insecure about his emotions. He's insecure about his place on the team. He's insecure about anything he doesn't understand and his insecurities are exceedingly personal in nature because he ties them intrinsically to his personality.

"The real thing is much more personal and thoughtful, and I really hope you like it, ‘cause if you don’t I will just be crushed!"

"This’ll teach you to compliment my work and give me my first positive reinforcement from a parent aged adult, ever!"

Speaking of parent aged adults... i wonder where this could stem from...

Role Model

Who do all the turtles model themselves after, but their own father? Whether they knew it or not, Lou Jitsu was someone they all strived to be like. They commited to learning all the lines from his movies. They fought like him outside of the training course Splinter sets them on. Heck, Donnie takes his hero worship so far that his character defining brows are exactly Lou Jitsu's! Babies start learning how to establish social and emotional relationships around 18 months. We have Splinter, a despondent, but loving care giver who unfortunately did not give Donnie the validation he craved. This manifests in his insecurities where he bends over backwards to get the attention he craves. He wants to be seen, again compounded by having three rowdy mutant-powered brothers, and so he ends up tying his worth into his ability.

Now, while for a majority of the series, the turtles don't know about Splinter's past or that he dated Big Mama, but it wasn't as if Splinter hid that part of himself away so obviously. In fact, because he himself is still mourning his lost humanity, he ends up feeding his son's a hardy diet of his life's existence. The boys are secondarily raised by Lou Jitsu movies in place where Splinter is not always present. Obviously, Lou Jitsu seemingly disappears, but Splinter's feelings on the matter don't. He openly still cares about Big Mama in the present and this I don't think it's a stretch to say that he would let these feelings leak in a similar way to how he presents Lou Jitsu in the boys lives. Big Mama is a attractive, albeit manipulative woman. This is awfully close to a little line someone says, especially when we consider that he models himself after this man.

Also, if we're taking models into account. Something we know for a fact shapes teenagers. Something we know for a fact that Donnie does. Something that is equally canonized in the show, then we have to talk about.

Donnie’s True Canonical Idol

That's right. You know her. You love her. You believe that Donnie is a thigh man because of this Lass' existence. Donnie says flat out that Atomic Lass is his childhood idol. He goes to great lengths to dance with her, smashing Leo out of the way. He then even goes so far as to ask if her and Atomic Lad have split up because his intention to date her is so clear. Now she was obviously a mutant in a costume, but that didn't matter because he loves Atomic Lass that much and Atomic Lass?

She's a heroine.

Only cute and mean in the context of the episode, this is not the Lass he fell in love with. The Lass he loves is a comic book hero that travels the universe doing good.

Also....

Ron Corcillo Agrees With Me

A staff writer on Rise, I apologize I can't show the origin tweet because it was deleted, but it was a dual question that asked both about the Turtles meeting Spider-man and about Donnie's preference. Now you could say he's forgotten a line that may not be as important to him, but doesn't that in and of itself say something? It says that it could have been a one-off joke or that it wasn't something that was necessarily intrinsic to the character.

To Recap:

Donnie doesn’t always know himself

Donnie is a cringey teen

Donnie is insecure

Donnie has difficulty understanding emotions and himself

Donnie isn’t actually an 'emotionally unavailable bad boy'

Donnie doesn’t actually like the ‘mean’ type

Sources:

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles episodes:

Mystic Mayhem

Donnie's Gifts

Pizza Pit

Hot Soup: The Game

Shadow of Evil

Donnie vs. Witch Town

The Mutant Menace

Breaking Purple

Turtle-dega Nights: The Ballad of Rat Man

End Game

Repo Mantis

Mascot Melee

Donnie's Gifts

Bug Busters

War and Pizza

Goyles, Goyles, Goyles

Lair Games

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie

lactoseintolerentswag's post on Rise Characterizations Pt. 3!!!

skulltrot's Donnie (Rise of the TMNT) | Autism Representation in Media video

Ron Corcillo's tweet from Cartoon Brew's Feb 10, 2024 AMA

Alexithymia | Autistica

earthytzipi's post not understanding why people characterize Donnie has hiding his emotions

hyperfixatinator's post about ROTTMNT Theory: Donatello's Hidden Role

[boxturret]

2003, The Era of Sport, The Era of the Hockey Men

I'll be honest, I wanted to do a big multi part write up in a similar vein to the one I did on the Bohrok Pens, but after getting all the sets in hand I just...didn't have much to say about them. I took a ton of photos but when it came to actually putting a post together I just wasn't having any fun, felt like I'd end up reciting set numbers and other things that anyone can look up on other sites, so screw it. In no particular order, here's my rambling thoughts about the 2003 Bionicle Hockey sets:

They're okay.

Function

The spring part at their core is neat, it's bidirectional, so both ends of the spring are set up in such a way that when its rotated it will return to centre.

There are two configurations of hockey men, they all use the same basic functional parts:

The first kind mounts the spring vertically and by pushing on the head the stick rotates slightly

The second one mounts the spring horizontally and pressing the head swings the stick in a wide arc.

There's four different kinds of sticks, two for each configuration.

Each has a different shape to it to affect how the hockey puck is hit, but in practice the horizontal mount is by far the more powerful of the two.

This one fires pretty straight.

This one is curved so it kinda flicks the puck in the air.

This one destroys everything in its path.

And this one is pretty much the same, but with a slight bend in it.

And that's it really. Despite there being 8 different hockey men across all the sets, there's only those four configurations.

When looking at some of the parts, like the spring and the base, I saw how they were mirrored, and was hoping that maybe you could reverse the mechanisms at the very least, but nope.

Sadly the main wedge parts are chiral, so they can't be flipped around. Which seems rather a shame, having left and right handed hockey men would have added some variety.

Masks

On the topic of variety, one of the more interesting aspects of the hockey men is the masks. This was really the reason I got them. I'm really in to the pre-Bionicle idea of Voodoo Heads, and some of these masks seem like they would have fit in well with that theme.

The hockey men actually use a Tohunga head, the same as in the 01 Bionicle sets, but in light grey. So their masks are completely compatible with Bionicle.

The way they were released though was very odd.

There's 7 different masks, which works out perfectly for the number of sets, 4 canister sets, a two pack, a mess, and the omni man who can be anything you wish:

The masks were on sprues, three to a wheel. The first row of three was on one, the second on another. The seventh mask was released on its own.

What's so odd about the sprues is how...different they are.

The first one has a much thinner wall to the ring, there's no support spokes, and the masks are supposed to be held together with a little 3 pronged bit of plastic in the middle, though none of the ones I got had that part in place. In fact, one sealed set I got that was supposed to come with this ring just had the masks loose, with the bit of plastic along with them. Note how the masks all have horizontal parts jutting out from the mouth peg, that slots in to the mouth of the Tohunga skull, just like a Bionicle mask would.

The second wheel is much thicker, with additional supports along the edges, and three spokes holding everything in place. Now you'd think this would be a later revision, but look at the mouth pegs, they're lacking the parts that lock in to the mouth, meaning they're harder to align properly.

The seventh mask is lacking any sprue marks so I think it was done as a single part and has the side parts on the peg. Its also quite similar to one of the ones on the first sprue, so for a while I didn't know it was its own thing.

They're quite odd. Neat looking though.

Mess

Speaking of the seventh mask, here's the set it came with.

Its best described as a hot mess.

In theory its supposed to be a puck feeder, shooting pucks out for you to attempt to hit, but the motor is so weak, and the construction of the feeding mechanism is really prone to jamming.

It barely has enough power to get through the included pucks, which it just limply drops out of its ramp.

If that isn't good enough for you there's alternate instructions for a...thing instead.

Its super awkward to wind up, and you get seconds of a hockey stick shaped thing flailing around a bit, the bulk of the mechanism itself filling most of the goal on its own.

Its also even more susceptible to jamming than the first build!

Goals

Okay, back in to more positive things, the goal in that last set was a stripped down version of the goals that came in the two pack set, which I think are some of the better things to come from the theme.

Featuring lovely long red axles and a special net, they really look the part! shame about the blue friction split pins, this was right on the edge of when everything fell apart colour wise.

What's better is that if you got the big multi pack which came with the two pack and two of the omni-men, you also got the huge hockey rink base which had special tabs just for locking the goal in place.

The rink is a really cool thing, its made from this milky plastic and they printed everything on the back side, so the prints are viewed through the semi transparent plastic. This makes it look very authentic to how ice rinks really look (I'm Canadian I know these things).

Its huge though, it needs a lot of table or floor space. Its larger than toy hockey rinks, and is getting close to some smaller air hockey tables I've seen.

Couldn't even take a full photo of it easily.

You can fit all the major sets on it, but its pretty tight, but that doesn't really matter that much, as I don't think you'd be able to play the game like this at all.

Really I don't know how playable this game is, even with the rink, there's some sets that are purposefully designed to flip the puck in the air.

Combination Models

Speaking of flipping pucks in the air: the hockey Kaita. Okay I don't have a good link to this part.

I think these guys really highlight the weakness of this system. even when using parts from multiple sets the functions stay identical, the extra parts are just tossed on haphazardly.

Also, even though this one says its a combiner of those two sets, you can make it without touching any part of the second one.

It doesn't come though on this scan, but the face plates in these photos are clearly 3d printed.

Mini Guys

As is traditional, the theme also features several small sets. Its quite confusing as there's a lot of different versions, some come together, some separate, some in bags, some not, but at their core there's 6 figures, two pairs of each size class; large, medium, and small. The larger ones sometimes had goals, depending on the version.

The mini guys all have the same function, which honestly is pretty ingenious, using a Slizer foot to wedge the two feet beams apart on one side and snap them together on the other side to shoot the puck. Honestly its a bit more fun than some of the full sized sets.

The one issue is that hitting them too hard on the softer plastic of the armour piece does feel liable to bend it. Something to look out for, especially with the set exclusive yellow one.

That part came in a very wide array of colours in this one theme.

Female Bionicle M.O.C.s for decades after owe a lot to the hockey-men.

Bottle

And I guess to end things I'll briefly touch on the bottle. Much like the Roboriders and Bionicle sets, they came in canisters, in fact the threading is cross compatible between many of these various canisters.

The canisters always had a purpose, the Roborider's lids could be used in the combiners, the Toa's canisters were an important thing in the story, and the lids represented the suva and could store 7 masks, and the Bohrok canisters represented their hive and doubled as a way of displaying them.

The hockey canisters are functional water bottles.

The nub on top can be pulled out and drunk from. Its a fairly standard water bottle design, though I think more recently its fallen out of favour. the lid is lacking a gasket of any kind however, so the water tightness of this bottle is questionable.

Conclusion

And that's all I have to say about the hockey men of 2003. Turns out it was quite a lot, but it wasn't quite as comprehensive as I was intending. I took a lot of photos that I didn't end up using, so I'll put them all up on my drive HERE. In my attempts to get all the sets I just incidentally ended up with practically all the boxes and cans, which is pretty funny considering all the effort I went through to achieve the same for other themes.

Overall, they're kinda neat, interesting to mess around with a bit, but the system was really needlessly limited and some functions were quite lacklustre. If I had to give them a number ranking it would be an eight point three.

****

I'll leave this post on a bit of a mystery I'm not invested enough to get to the bottom of:

There's an odd amount of inconsistency between how the sets are depicted, whether its a straight image or doing this effect where its a single image projected across multiple screens. I got all the canister sets at once, and they all came with their instructions, so unless the person selling them was mix and matching them, which is possible but seems unlikely with the condition they were in, I have no clue what's going on here. Some match, some are one way, some are the other, its all very odd.

Well, have a nice day.

Ah yes! One last thing:

Like the Slizer boxes, the Hockey Men all come with a nice blank tile to write your name on.

Which is, I believe, a crime in oleg fan circles severe enough to warrant execution.

[suuuupernovaaa]

tsngawpay

tsngawpay [ˈt͡sŋaw.paj] n. tears

Anonymous Request: Can I request an Aonung fic where the reader is a Sully and Aonung teases her like he does the rest of them (despite finding her cute) but she's really sweet and innocent and has the biggest puppy dog eyes so when he says anything mean she immediately looks like a kicked puppy and he ends up backtracking until finally he just gives up being mean because he may be a jerk but he's not a monster. (He even apologizes to kiri because he saw how hurt reader looked at his behavior) And somewhere in there he realizes he has feelings for her and has to man up and confess before a better man than him swoops in and steals her away?

+

Request from @jakesully-sbabygirl: Can we have Aonung with the trope "she fell first but he fell harder"?

"He asked," says the small, annoying man with the tight curls on his head, "if you are a freak?"

Kiri's face falls, and so does my heart. I am far enough away that the men picking on my sister haven't noticed me, but close enough to hear their conversation.

Kiri shakes her head and indignantly replies, "No."

I see Lo'ak approaching, so I jump up before things can escalate.

"Hey!" I holler, and all eyes snap to me. "Leave her alone. You're being mean."

One of the boys reaches out for Kiri's tail, and she pulls it away with a yelp.

"Look, it's the other freak," the first boy says, and I try to stop my lip from quivering, but I'm not entirely successful.

It's hard enough to be away from home, adjusting to an entirely new way of life, without being bullied. It's disappointing to see Aonung here, among these bullies, almost leading them. The first day we arrived on the beach, I'd found him to be so visually striking, with such a lovely smile... to find out he's a jerk has been a real disappointment.

Something about him still draws my eye, though. And now, he's staring back at me, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

"Leave my sisters alone!" Lo'ak says, finally arriving, and Aonung raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"You're right," Aonung says after a long, tense pause. "We're going."

He turns on his heel, and his lackies follow him with deeply confused looks on their faces.

I reach out for Kiri's hand, and she takes it, staring at me with concern. Kiri's strength is her connection with Eywa, Lo'ak's is his boldness, Neteyam's is his fierceness in battle, and mine is crying.

Everything makes me cry. My mother says when I was born, I cried for a month straight, and have basically been crying once a day since.

I wish I was bold like Lo'ak, or strong like Neteyam, or even carefree like Tuk, but I am none of those things. I am 'sensitive', and it makes every day harder than it needs to be.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Lo'ak asks, grabbing my arm. "That was weird, wasn't it?"

"What?" I ask.

"That they just left. Aonung looked so weird."

I shrug. "I don't care how that jerk looked," I reply, but of course, I do care. I care about everything, deeply, and I'm on the verge of tears now.

"Come, sister, lets swim," Kiri says, smiling at me, and I nod and follow along, saved from tears for now.

--

What is it about the oldest Sully sister? Something about the look on her face made Aonung feel... something.

Shame? Guilt? Lust?

Maybe all three.

All he knows is, it wasn't funny anymore, when it looked like she was going to cry. It caused some kind of strange, visceral reaction in him, the thought of her crying. He would have done anything to stop it.

What is this feeling?

--

"He called you a freak?" my father says in that cold, calm tone that means he is really, really angry. It's later that same evening, and all seven of us sit in our mauri pod, eating dinner after a long day of learning.

"Don't, Lo'ak!" I hiss. "They stopped when I asked them to. They're just dumb boys."

Dad sits back, chewing his food and scowling. "You tell me if they pull that again, Y/N, you got it?"

Mom elbows him for using a harsh tone with me, and I roll my eyes.

"It was weird, the way they just... walked away," Kiri adds, passing me some fruit. "Why do you think they did that?"

"Aonung thinks Y/N is cute," Neteyam says with his mouth full, and I gasp.

"Of course he doesn't. He just didn't want you to come and kick his ass."

"Hey," Dad warns, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. He and mom share a glance and a grin, and I look back to Neteyam.

"Aonung is a jerk. I don't know how he and Tsireya could be related."

Neteyam shrugs, but he's smiling too, and I'd like to slap the smile off his face, but I know better than to start a fight with my older brother. He'd win every time.

Later that night, though, the idea of Aonung thinking I'm cute crosses my mind again. As much as I'd like to, I just can't hate the idea.

--

Kiri, Lo'ak and I spend most of the next day with Tsireya and Aonung, practicing the finger talk and learning all we can from them about how to be active members of the clan, and pull our weight.

Tsireya is a quiet, confident teacher, and we've learned so much from her. Especially Lo'ak, who is hopelessly in love with her.

Eventually, Tsireya and Lo'ak swim away to be in a world all their own and as usual, Kiri is nowhere to be found. This leaves Aonung and I perched on a rock alone together, and the tension is palpable.

I can't decide if I want to leave and never speak to him again, or stay with him all day.

There's no denying, I still find him very handsome, but I'm so turned off by his behavior, the way he's treated my family.

"I'm sorry," he says, interrupting my thoughts, "about yesterday."

I raise an eyebrow at him, surprised by what seems to be a very genuine apology. "You are?"

"Yeah. You looked... really hurt. I'm sorry."

"Why would it bother you if you hurt a freak?"

He reaches out, taking my hand into his, and the differences are obvious. Not just the coloring, or the wideness of his hand, or how his large hand engulfs mine, but the biggest difference of all: he has four fingers, and I have five.

"We have grown up hearing about the evil of the sky people, and what they could do to us."

I flex my fingers, but he doesn't let my hand go. "I am Na'vi, as is my mother and my father. I can't help how many fingers I have."

With his free hand, he reaches up, touching the hair above my eyes, which Na'vi don't have. Something about his hand on my face sends chills up my spine.

"I know. I am sorry, truly." He removes his hand from my face, and places it over his heart.

Though everything is screaming at me not to, I believe him, and we smile at each other.

--

Things are different, from that day forward. Though Aonung is still a little arrogant and teases at times, he's never mean. There is no more name calling, or fighting, and things almost feel harmonious.

This is another side of Aonung, and it's hard to reconcile with the jerk he showed himself to be before. He's patient and kind, and he laughs and smiles. I see the man I thought he was that first day on the beach.

The crush I had on him at first, that faded away, has blossomed again.

The day the Tulkun return, we all rush to the water to find them, and as I call for an Ilu outside our pod, Aonung charges up on his ilu, and extends a hand to me.

Without hesitation, swept up in the excitement all around us, I jump on and wrap my arms around his waist. We make a quick turn and dive under water, and I hold on tight. Aonung reaches back as we charge forward, gripping my thigh to keep me from falling off.

The tulkun are the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. Giant, beautiful creatures decorated in the same tattoos that the Metkayina wear. They're diving, turning, and everyone is absolutely overwhelmed with joy.

We surface, and Aonung pats my thigh and points forward, to a specific beast.

"My brother," he says. "I want you to meet him."

I feel such joy and honor in my heart, to be introduced to Aonung's tulkun brother, and I try not to burst into tears on the spot. Instead, I just nod, and we weave forward through the Metkayina reuniting with their brothers and sisters, until we reach Aonung's tulkun.

He tells me his name, how they met, what they like to do together. He shows me his tattoos, and we sit on his giant fin together. It's absolutely astonishing, to be in the presence of a Tulkun. I understand why they are so important to these people.

"This is Y/N," Aonung tells his brother. "She is special to me."

I whip my head around to stare at Aonung. "I am?"

There is a grin on his face, ear to ear. "Very special. I care about you a lot, Y/N."

I furrow my brow and shake my head. "No, Aonung. I'm just... I'm just ridiculous."

He throws his head back laughing, as if he wants to prove my point. "How are you ridiculous?"

"I'm not special! I'm not brave like Lo'ak, or fierce like Neteyam, or smart like Kiri. I'm just..."

"Sensitive," Aonung replies with a shrug. "You're sensitive. You cry a lot. You feel things more deeply than anyone I've ever met. Do you think this is a bad thing?"

I feel the tears in my eyes now, and turn away from Aonung, staring his brother tulkun in the eye as we float gently on his fin.

"Yes," I whisper.

Aonung's arm is around my shoulders, and he reaches out, using two fingers on my chin, turning my face towards him.

"It is not a weakness, to feel deeply. It makes you kind and caring, two areas that I am told I'm severely lacking in. It makes you fine match for me. I've never met anyone like you. I didn't realize it at first, but every day that I spend with you, I care more deeply for you. I See you, Y/N."

There is no holding the tears back now, and I bury my face into the crook of Aonung's neck, crying freely. His tulkun rocks us gently up and down, almost as if to soothe me.

When I'm finally calmed down enough to look up, I meet Aonung's eyes. "I See you, Aonung."

And I do. He's not mean, or unfeeling, or a jerk; he's as soft as I am, under as much pressure as I am, and not sure how to express it.

As beautiful as he is outside, he's even more so inside. I feel elated, joyful, to be given the chance to be with Aonung.

"You know," I say, "we have to tell my dad. If we're going to..."

"I'm going to court you," Aonung says, matter of factly. "I'll tell him. Should we go now?" He makes to hop off the tulkun and I laugh, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back to me.

"No, lets leave that to another day."

Unexpectedly, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a tight hug, and pressing his lips to the top of my head.

Over Aonung's shoulder, I spot my parents, riding an Ilu together through the happy crowd. My mother lifts her arm, pointing to me, and father turns his head.

His jaw drops.

Another day seems to be today.

[devildom-moss]

The demon brothers reacting to an MC who hides their burn marks headcanon

The demon brothers version of a previous request for the dateables + Luke reacting to an MC who has burn marks all over their arms/legs and avoids wearing revealing clothes because they're self conscious about it. I hope this one is okay. Please ignore how much my tenses shift - hopefully it reads fine. Also why is it that usually when I do another version of a previous post, it gets longer. Why am I like this?

requested by: @justalurkerheretolurk

(slightly suggestive for some of the brothers)

Word Count: +2,400

Lucifer

For once, his approach is that it’s none of his business. He doesn’t wear revealing clothes himself, so it takes him forever to notice that you have self-esteem reasons for hiding your body.

He might sense some of your discomfort when someone suggests that you should wear more revealing clothing (Asmo), but he doesn’t make much of it. If you don’t want to talk to him about it, he won’t question you (unless you seem really upset).

Lucifer doesn’t find out unless your sleeve accidentally slips too far up your arms or until one of those shared outdoor bath/hot spring trips. He’ll get suspicious if you aren’t willing to join him in the baths despite his efforts to tempt you. Basically, he’s not going to question you trying to keep covered until he’s trying to get in your pants.

The second he finds out, he’ll be speechless for a moment – to the point that it worries you. Is it really so bad that he can’t say anything?  

Side headcanon: I think he gets it. He’s probably scarred up from the Celestial War. There are parts of his body that scratch away at his pride sometimes. He wants to ask about it, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

It’s not disgust or shock that shuts him up, it’s shame – and under that, affection. He’s ashamed that you didn’t feel you could show him until now, ashamed that he never questioned you before or didn’t notice, and ashamed that he let someone he cherishes so dearly feel self-conscious without him knowing. He wants to choose his words carefully – lace together something that would make you feel better – but all he can do is take hold of your arm and ask you if you had been hiding those marks the entire time.

He’ll almost sound scary, but his eyes will look so desperate. Lucifer will beg you not to hide your body – not from him. (He’ll even say please.) You don’t have to show anyone else (in fact, he’d prefer if he was the only one), but you have nothing to be embarrassed about around him. He wants to see everything.

He’ll pull out the bedroom eyes and tell you, “I mean it. Let me prove it.”

Mammon

He probably sees your marks because he walks in on you changing. Man does not believe in knocking. You should be grateful to get a visit from the Great Mammon.

He’s almost too embarrassed to notice the burns at first. His brain lags, and then it hits him like – well, like Lucifer when Mammon’s racked up a huge debt on his card again. His eyes widen, and he shuts the door behind him.

“What happened to ya?” he asks frantically, running up to you. However, his tone doesn’t match the gentle touch he has when his hand slides over your marks. Even if you’ve already covered up, he’ll caress you over your clothes. The location of your scars is burned into his mind. The next words leave him in a softer, somber tone, like some wounded child, “when’d ya get hurt?”

In Mammon’s mind, if he can figure out why, how, and when, maybe he can do something to help you. Whether you feel comfortable enough to tell him or not, he won’t press you too much.

He’s hurt that you didn’t let him know sooner – that he only found out now. He’s always clinging to you, so how is that even possible?

“Hey. Is that why yer always covered up?” He noticed that you avoided revealing clothes, but he thought maybe you were like Lucifer. Mammon didn’t want to make you self-conscious about it, so he never brought it up before. When you agree, he feels as if his chest has been stabbed by dozens of long upholstery needles.

With the softest, saddest smile, he tells you, “ya don’t have to hide nothin’ from me, y’know?”

He’d pull you into a hug, and even though he was too shy to manage more than a whisper, he’d say, “listen close. The Great Mammon ain’t a fan of repeatin’ himself, but I think ya look fine. I mean, ya shine more beautifully than any precious metal, my treasure.”

Mammon will probably ask you to show him more of your body when you’re alone. Of course he wants to see more, he’s the avatar of greed, after all.

Leviathan

You can’t convince me that this man won’t try to get you to wear revealing cosplay at some point. Levi’s too embarrassed to ask you to wear something skimpy himself, but if it’s for cosplay, maybe you’d go along with it.

He doesn’t even warn you that it’s revealing as he hands it to you, practically begging you to try it on for him. If you refuse, he won’t hesitate to drop to his knees and grovel. “Please? It’ll be so moe. Please? Pleeeaassse?”

There’s instant regret when he finds out why you were so reluctant – whether you decide to just tell him or change into the clothes and show him. His stomach will drop, and his eyes will widen. He feels terrible for making you reveal that information, possibly far sooner than you wanted to.

His mind will flood with self-criticism, but he knows that this moment isn’t about him, so he pushes his own shame back down. Levi knows what it’s like to feel self-conscious, and he wants to help, but he doesn’t know where to start.

“I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I like how you look. You’re my IRL fav.”

If you let him, he’ll pull you into his tub while in his demon form, wrap his tail around you, and hold you. You can game or watch anime – anything to help you feel better.

Levi doesn’t know how to go about comforting you, and it’s embarrassing for him to tell you how gorgeous he thinks you are, but he’ll try, and he’ll keep asking you to cosplay for him (especially the revealing stuff). If you just want to hang out in his room while wearing revealing clothing, he’s happy with that – even if he gets so horny shy that he feels like he’s going to die.

He’s another one who would prefer it if you only wore revealing clothes around him. If anyone else got to see that much of you, he’d be jealous. A more selfish part of him would also prefer it if he was the only one who knew about your marks. You’re his Henry. You’re his best friend. You don’t need to be that vulnerable with anyone else as long as you have him.

Satan

Satan is likely to find out on accident: a sleeve falling down too far or something kind of ridiculous like getting caught in a downpour while wearing a white shirt.

The rage boils up in the pit of his stomach when he sees your marks, but he isn’t sure who to be mad at because he doesn’t have any of the information. Maybe he’s just mad at the world for having hurt you.

When Satan notices your embarrassment at being caught, he calms himself. He’ll ask if it ever hurts you, and then he’ll ask to touch you. If you agree, his touch will be delicate – as if he expects you to break.

Without much warning, though, he’ll wrap his arms around you. He’ll tell you that it’s okay to be self-conscious. If you’re comfortable, you can show as much or as little skin as you want. He’ll love you all the same. You could swear that you felt a teardrop hit your shoulder as he hugged you, but when he finally pulled away, his eyes were clear.

Satan brings up that he’s heard that cats’ purring could be healing. Maybe you could get a cat to sit on you and purr? In part, he’s using this as an excuse to invite you on a cat café date.

He encourages you to try more revealing clothes around him. When you’re alone, he’ll get clingier. He strikes me as a kiss-the-scars kind of guy.

Asmodeus

Asmo loves to treat you like his little dress-up doll. He’s not blind, and he’s noticed how often you’re covering yourself up. Usually, when he dresses you up, he tries to keep your comfort levels in mind, giving you clothes that would flatter you while still covering parts of your body that you may be trying to hide – whether or not he understands why.

But eventually, Asmo is going to want to push you out of that comfort zone. While you’re out shopping one day, he’ll grab something a bit more revealing (probably a sheer-sleeve shirt) and put it into the pile. You might not even notice until you’re in the changing room.

You’d put off trying it on, modeling every other shirt in the bunch for Asmo. Maybe he would forget the revealing one, but he didn’t. After an approving nod from him on the second-to-last option, Asmo would knowingly add, “one more, gorgeous.”

“Asmo, I can’t wear this,” you’d tell him as you buttoned the shirt up. It was just as you feared: your scars were visible. Asmo sighed; he figured you might be hesitant. “Can I at least come in and see? Pretty please?”

It’s hard to say no to Asmo; you could imagine the pout on his lips. When you unlocked the door, he quickly snuck in. He noticed immediately as he appraised you. A soft, solemn “oh” left his lips. It all made sense now.

The insecurity started to build, but Asmo was quick to squash it. He took your face in his hands and reassured you. “Darling, you look absolutely beautiful.”

Asmo will constantly tell you how lovely, pretty, and cute you are. Yes, that absolutely includes the marks. They don’t take a single bit of beauty away from you. He’s the most gorgeous creature in the Devildom, after all, so he would know.

Asmo is delicate with his approach to encouraging you to wear more revealing clothes, suggesting outfits that show just a bit more and staying aware of your comfort levels. He’ll never push you to wear anything revealing in front of anyone except him if you aren’t comfortable, but he can be a bit pushy about letting him see more of you. He won’t judge, so just trust yourself with him.

He doesn’t really think about how it happened; all he knows is that it makes you feel self-conscious now, and that’s something he can try to do something about.

Will probably try to flirt and tell you that if you ever want to show him everything, he’ll make sure you don’t regret it.

Beelzebub

Beel notices something is off when you show up in sweats to work out with him and never take them off. It’s hot. He’s five seconds away from taking off his shirt. How are you even alive?

“Seriously, you need to change. You’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” you insist. Worried, Beel will insist that you call it a day. He’ll offer to take you out for food once you’re both washed up and changed.

The next time he gets you alone in his room or yours, he brings it up again. He’s nervous and worried, with his hands clasped awkwardly in front of his heart, as he asks why you don’t wear shorts or tank tops – even when you’d probably be more comfortable.

When you tell him (or even show him), Beel’s shoulders slump. It makes sense now. He feels bad – because you were hurt, because he feels like he pressured you to tell him, because you’ve been hiding it the whole time, because you feel bad about your marks.

He doesn’t know what to say. Instead, Beel engulfs you in his arms. His grip is gentle, barely touching you as he asks you if the burn scars hurt. If you’re not in pain, he’ll hold you tighter. He wants to comfort you, but nothing feels like it’ll be enough, so he just holds you quietly for a long time.

Eventually, the only words that hold any weight in his mind escape him in a low tone.

“I love you. I think you’re beautiful.”

After he finds out, Beel goes out of his way to tell you how handsome and beautiful you are more often. He assumed you knew how he felt before, but he doesn’t want to leave any room for doubt now.

Belphegor

I feel like Belphie is the one person who is more likely to discover your marks through touch. He’s very clingy and touchy and a bit of a perv, so I could see him just noticing something about the texture of your skin through your clothes. He’s so used to pressing himself firmly against you, and if you are prone to pain or irritation from that, he’ll notice your reactions, too.

He also strikes me as someone who slips his cold hands into your clothes. Especially if your shirt is tucked in, he has no problem just slipping his hands up your sleeves.

Unfortunately, he won’t consider that he may be bringing up a sensitive topic for you when he almost immediately questions you. (If he’s exhausted, he may wait until after a nap to ask you.) On the bright side, because the others usually bug him about cuddling you, your chances of it happening when you’re alone are pretty high.

Belphie feels bad when you tell him that he touched your scars/burn marks and that you had been trying to keep them covered up because it’s embarrassing – especially if you tell him that you’re worried about how other people look at you. Your shame ignites a fire in him, and he launches into an irritated rant.

“Who gives a fuck about what other people think about how you look? There’s nothing inherently wrong with it, really. Maybe it’s fucked up how it happened. I don’t know, and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but they’re just marks now. It’s just a part of your body. And I like your body. I liked it before I knew they were there, and my feelings haven’t changed now that I know. You’re still my favorite cuddle buddy.”

He’ll pull you against him and stroke your hair with an indignant blush staining his cheeks.

“If anyone ever makes you feel bad, tell me. You’ll never hear another cruel word from them after that. No one hurts my precious human pillow.” Except for him that one time.

(the dateables + Luke version)

A/N: Hopefully these came out alright. I'm such a sucker for comfort stuff, which is why I took this request even though my requests aren't technically open right now. Can y'all tell who I loved writing for on this prompt the most?

Also, I'm over here wishing September had another day so I could finish the September poll story without rushing it. If it's a day late, I'm sorry! I'll be preoccupied for most of tomorrow, and I have to drive a lot so I can't skip out on sleep tonight. Putting the pro in procrastination. I don't even know what to put on the poll for October, either. My brain is just soup right now. screaming Anyway, I do have something planned for October that hopefully you'll all find enjoyable. Okay, I'm going to shut up now.

[arielstruggles]

The Dawn of Regret

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem reader

Summary: You have a crush on Joel Miller and he becomes your patrol partner.

W.C: 3.4k

Warnings: Smut (mdni), P in V sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), Katoptronophilia, praise kink, slight dirty talk, breeding kink, big fat age gap (reader is 26 Joel is 56), angst.

A/N: Happy kinktober folks!. I love angst so i incorporate it in everything :| sorry. I honestly don't know if this will be a one shot or not, we will see. I'm sorry i'm not the best for descriptions. And if i have any grammar mistakes, sorry in advance i am not a native English speaker. Anyway, if anyone reads it, let me know your opinions, love you bye!

ch2 ch3

You and Joel have known each other for quite some time now. It has been roughly four months that him and Ellie decided to stay in Jackson, instead of trying to find the Fireflies. Since then, they were joining you at different tasks. Ellie was too young to join the patrols without a training but Joel, as a 56 years old, fearless man; he was the perfect fit. Well, obviously he was a mass murderer too but it was helpful in this situation. But other than that you were nothing to each other. Just a couple of “Hello”s and “How is it going”s  here and there. But you couldn’t help to feel attracted to him. Normally, you were teaming up with Maria and Joel was teaming up with Tommy but Tommy and Joel decided that they were "sick of each other" so Maria came up with the solution that you were supposed to team up with Joel. It caught you off guard. You were so used to went on patrols with Maria that you didn't know what to do exactly. Not that you were unable to protect yourself or anything. You were living in Jackson for more than two years now and before that you basically learned how to survive on your own. No, it was not a doubt that came from your skills, it was because of Joel.

You were a little bit, just a little bit intimidated by his presence. He was not a chatty, lively man. His brows were mostly furrowed, well he was grumpy to say the least. Not that he was rude or mean towards you. On the contrary he knew where to stand. So, he sort of knew when to be nice which was obviously not around you. But you were not sure if you were okay where he was standing, you wanted more. He was a handsome man, grumpy old man to be fair but it didn't take anything from his charm. His broad shoulders, warm brown eyes, the dimple on his cheek which is a shame that you could barely see since he was not laughing around you that much. He was big and strong. His hands, his fingers... The thought of it showed itself as dampness on your panties. You were feeling guilty for dreaming about him from time to time but in your defense, who would not? Gosh those Fingers. “What would happen if he wrapped them around my throat?" you thought, on the couch where you were lying at the moment. "What would happen if he kissed me, or better bite me?" you get so worked up that dipped your fingers inside your panties.

After you came imagining it was his fingers inside you instead of yours, a wave of warmth washes your whole body. You are feeling so guilty. You are about to go on a patrol with this man and you masturbated, in your couch, thinking of him. And you had no idea how he felt about you, you saw him flirting with women before in the Tipsy Bison however none of them were as young as you. They were mostly older than forty. You are in your mid-twenties. Also, you know the fact that he had a daughter which if she was alive would be older than you so this was both unethical and impossible. You shake your head due to your own stupid thoughts and realize that it' almost three a.m. that means Joel and you are about the meet in an hour. You fix your clothes and decide to make yourself a coffee, you have limited supply of coffees so even though you really love it you can't drink as much as you want to but tonight, or this morning to be precise, you need to.

While you sip your coffee with the shame on your shoulders you hear a knock on your door, you leave your mug on the table and walk towards the door. “Who is that?” you ask, even though the low and husky tone makes it clear that it is Joel, you are just trying to be careful. “It’s Joel. I was just checking you if you were awake.” To hide the reflection of that stupid grin on your voice, you clear your throat “Yes, I am.” You can’t help the heat that rises from your core. “Okay, be outside of your door in 30.” He says and you hear footsteps fading away. You realize you didn’t even open the door, let alone kindly inviting him but it was probably for the best. You still feel warm and fuzzy because of your Joel fantasies. You grab your coffee and sip the rest while thinking of him. 

Once you’re done with your coffee, you step outside of your door with you backpack on your back and gun in its holster, waiting for Joel. After a while his big figures approaches which makes you feel giddy. You curse under your breath for feeling like a high schooler who sees their crush. “Mornin’” he rasps, “morning” you say in return. “We’re heading towards east this time. Tommy claims. There are riders.” It is obvious by his tone that he mocks with his brother. You nod as a response to his explanation and you both start walking. You know, silence is better to search the area but it makes you so uneasy. You want to talk to him desperately. “So, why you and Tommy decided to not to be partners anymore?” you ask, your tone is louder than you expected. “You wanna get attention of clickers or sumthin?” he is not mad, it’s his usual grumpiness but still you feel ashamed. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “sorry.” You murmur, this time your tone is quiet. “He was being a pain in the ass, I’m sick of his bullshit.” He answers your question without looking at your face, you are grateful for that. You hum in return while you keep on walking. It’s still dark outside and cold. You wish you were in your warm bed. But the man who is walking right beside you seems so unbothered. He doesn’t care about the cold or how dark it is. It is as if he is living for the sake of living. You study his demeanor, trying to be sneaky. “Is there sumthin on my face?” “no, i- I’m sorry.” “well, you should focus on the road not me.” his tone is amused this time, not annoyed, not grumpy. You see a smile dancing around his lips, it is not a smile but it’s the best you got which sort of encourages you. “I can do both” “Aren’t you sumthin?” he chuckles, you made him smile.

That little conversation is all you need for you to have a crush on Joel. Not that you had not anything towards him but it was not a strong feeling whatsoever. But the moment you were able to make him smile. Well, it worsens the situation. For the rest of the road, you are mostly quiet. The sun is about to rise, the sky is turning into a lighter shade of blue. The birds chirping. It almost sounds peaceful. In the middle of an apocalypse. You can’t help but laugh audibly. Joel turns towards you with a questioning look on his face. “I was thinking how peaceful it felt. The sky seems so pretty, birds are chirp-“Joel covers your mouth with one of his hands and yanks you to a tree trunk which sends a shock to your body. While you try to grasp what is the reason behind this, he gestures with his other hand to be quiet. You nod in return and both of you listen carefully. You hear the clickers around. High pitched screams of a bunch of them fill the woods. It’s disturbing. You are grateful for it though, it distracts you from thinking how close your bodies are, how one of his hands is on your mouth. After he gives you the que you wait in silence, you kill them one by one. “Morning exercise I guess.” You say. “Yeah, right.” He replies grumpily and rolls his eyes. Here he is again, the Joel you are familiar with. It is saddening honestly. Witnessing a side of him which he only shows people whom he really cares and trusts, which you crave to be one.

You look at your pocket watch it reads 8.45. Morning sun shines through the sky, it is warmer than a couple of hours earlier. You still have more than three hours and frankly, after your last unsuccessful attempt to make him talk, you give up. Morning sun hits his face in a way that invigorates his handsome features. You want to reach his face and caress his cheeks, kiss tip of his nose. Of course, you can’t do any of that, how could you? You don’t even know him, he doesn’t even know you. It’s just your hormones talking, you assure yourself. “Cat got your tongue?” he questions your silence. “Huh?” “You seem lost in your thoughts. You were chatty earlier.” “I thought you would be annoyed if I talk too much.” “Yeah, you thought that right.” Well, he is honest at least. You don’t say anything back. He breaks the silence when you find an old shed. “I know this is safe, I’ve been there before you wanna rest a bit? Before heading back to Jackson?” even though staying in a small space with Joel for a couple of hours seems like not a good idea your feet hurt from all that walking and fighting with clickers was draining so you decide it’s for the best “Yeah, sure.” He opens the door and checks out the shed just in case then nudges his head for you to get inside. There is a mirror at the corner. It has cracks here and there and sort of rusty but you can see your reflection.

You sit on a moldy couch, it’s not the best thing to sit but at least better it is than floor. He sits right next to you, you are pretty close to each other. This surprises you but considering it is the only somewhat comfortable thing in this place it should not. The silence is too loud. You want to speak, to say something but you don’t know what to say. It’s as if you forgot how to talk, as if all the words in you have lost their meanings. The hand on your thigh jerks you awake from your thoughts. You look at his hand on your thigh then his eyes. He looks at you as if he is about to devour you. Even if you dreamt about this before, it feels different when he really touches you. You feel shy all of a sudden. “Darlin’ you thought I didn’t realize how you look at me?” his raspy tone sends shivers down on your spine. You want to give in and let him fuck you senseless but a part of you still wants to resist. You clearly have no idea how this thing is going to work or what he really wants. “What? You must be dreaming Joel.” You chuckle nervously. “I most certainly am not.” His hand moves up and up till your crotch but he doesn’t touch there yet. “Tell me darlin’” he leans on your ear, his breath tickles your neck, you’re sitting side by side but you want him on top of you. “Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll stop.” “Fine, okay. I want you.” you try not to sound so desperate but the last part of your sentence comes out as whining. “Atta girl, was that so hard?” he murmurs and cups your crotch through your jeans. He doesn’t dip his fingers, not yet. He leaves wet kisses all over your neck. You do something bold and climb on his thigh. His large hands find their places on your waist. You kiss him deeply. Your tongues dance with harmony. You get wetter with each passing second and press yourself on his thigh a little more. He moans into your mouth. “Naughty, naughty” a smirk spreads across his mouth. You grind on his thigh more and more; the tension is unbearable at this point. “Joel, do something!” you burrow your face in the crook of his neck “Do what darlin?” “Fuck me Joel.” Your voice comes muffled. You bite down on his neck. he cradles you and take you in front of the mirror which you saw earlier. You are confused. “What are you doing?” you ask him. “Just want you to see everything.”

You are standing before the mirror; Joel is pressed behind you. His cock is nestled between your ass cheeks. His movements are slow, you still have a couple of hours left and everywhere seemed clear so you can take your time. But you are so restless. He takes off your coat, then your shirt, then your bra. You’re half naked. Your reflection in the mirror startles you. You are as much eager as Joel. He cups your right tit. His calloused fingers brush your hardened nipple while he licks your neck. You gasp with the overwhelming feeling. You’re dripping cunt flutters against nothing. You want him inside. “Joel” you moan. He bites your shoulder in return. You both watch your reflections in the mirror. You take one of his hands that are on your waist and slide it into your panties, he takes the hint, an amused laugh leaves his lips but he does not want to tease you so he starts toying with your clit while leaving wet kisses all over your shoulders and neck. While his thumb circles around your clit and he dips his middle finger to your hole. “Aren’t you a slut, hm? Waiting for me to fuck this hole of yours?” You moan to the vulgarity of his words. He adds a second finger, hitting just the right spots. The overwhelming sensation takes over your whole body, you feel weak in the knees and rest your back against his chest more and more. At this point you look like a body with two heads. You feel your first orgasm is about to hit. “Joel ‘m close, I’m so close.” You coo, “let it go baby girl. You’re such a good girl for me, let it go darlin’” he whispers to your ear. You don’t even hesitate to ruin his fingers with your cum. He takes his fingers off of you and licks them. You see the reflection in the mirror. It feels so unholy. You feel as if a sinner, for letting a man who’s the same age as your father, if he was alive, to finger fuck you. “Now darling, I want more. I want to my cock in that sweet pussy of yours. I want to eat you out.” “Yes Joel, please.” Your voice sounds so needy that you cringe. “I want you to watch baby girl. Every second of it.”

He lays down his coat to the floor and then lays you down on it. Unbuttons your jeans and strips down the rest of your clothes. He starts kissing your neck and makes his way down while leaving kisses on your torso. His tongue finds his way on your clit, it moves with ease. You grip a fist full of his hair and press him against your pussy more. The warmth of his tongue mixed with the warmth of your pussy sends shock waves to your body. He eats you out with such ease and pleasantly. Your moans fill the old shed. Then Joel stops, “time to take my cock darling’” he coos and unbuttons his jeans. Cold air hits your glistening folds, makes you shiver. He takes off his jeans and boxers. His fat cock is up against his belly. Your mouth waters, you want to take it to your mouth. He catches your hungry eyes. “Next time darling’”. His tip shines with pre cum. He is hard as a rock. He checks on the mirror, to see your reflections, you do the same. You can’t name the feels in you at the moment because it feels nice. He leans on your body and aligns his cock with your entrance. “You ready?” you nod eagerly. It has been a while-3 years to be precise- since you last got laid and you don’t have that much experience but you want to hide this fact from Joel. Once he pushes himself inside you, you scream. Then you adjust to his size and he picks up his once slower pace. “So wet and tight for me. So pretty.” He mutters in your ear. “good girl, aren’t you a sweet girl for me, darlin’?” you nod, he grabs you by the throat, “Answer me!” his tone is demanding, his gaze is dark. “Yes, yes Joel” you answer but frankly, you don’t even know what was he saying. Your hips move in sync. He is close “Where do you want me to come, darling?” “Inside” you say. You come together.  He fills you up. After you’re both done, he lays on you. You wrap your arms around his torso. It feels so intimate. You have so many questions you want to ask. But you don’t know how he will respond. You clearly have a crush on him but you are not sure if he feels something towards you or if it was just a bodily pleasure. You decide to wait for him to take the first step.

You lay there for almost half an hour. Then he speaks “It’s almost 11 a.m., we better get going.” You can’t tell if he sounds distant or not. He helps you to get up and you wear your clothes and he does the same. You leave the shed and head towards Jackson. He does not talk; you don’t want to talk as well. But you have more than two hours of walking distance so after a while you are so bored of silence and curiosity eats you alive. “what’s gonna happen now?” you ask expecting for him to say something positive. “Nothing.” he almost barks. You are stunned by the tone of his. “Oh?” is all you can say. “Look, it was a mistake, I shouldn’t be so reckless. You forget what happened, I’ll do the same.” It hurts you. He is so blunt and there is no emotion behind his words. You feel so stupid for even thinking this could have led to something. You feel tears sting to your eyes but try to hold them back. You have no intention to feel smaller in front of this monster of a man. You are unsuccessful though. He hears you sniffing, does not look at you. He does not want to feel more guiltier than this. “Now, don’t cry on me.” he wants to sound harsh; he wants you to hate him so that you will never like him. It does not help. He wants you to be safe and being closer to him is not the safest option.

You can see Jackson, you’re close. That means you can go to your home and cry for hours. Your sadness leaves its place to anger. “You know, you are a disgusting man. You gave me hope and now you’re leaving me like this.” You know that is not the truth but you want to hurt him. “You are right about that. But I didn’t think you could be this naïve to fall for me.” “You deserve to die alone! If your daughter knew all this, she would’ve hated you.” You can see the burning flame in his eyes. For a second you think he will smack you across your face but he does not instead he grabs your arm tightly. “Just because we fucked does not mean you are something to me. You are clearly desperate for attention. You want someone to love you. But that ain’t me. You’re nobody.” He leaves your arm and walks towards his home. You stand there like a fool you tried to hurt him but he did it. You start to walk as well, Maria approaches you. “So, how was your patrol? You seem pale.” “It was okay, a couple of clickers, nothing unusual.” Your voice cracks, she looks at you worriedly. “please, I don’t want to talk.” You explain and she nods. You open your door and enter your house. The moment the door shut closed you start crying.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Cozened Indigo - Part One

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of murder, dark themes. Word count: ~4k

Summary: Unhappy with the assignment she has been given to work on for the Duskendale Gazette, she opts to pursue her own story, not quite realising what she's getting herself into.

Author's note: I have put my journalism degree to use here, to ensure as much accuracy as possible. However, as Westeros is a fictional place, I have warped certain laws and regulations regarding court reporting for the purpose of the story. Please suspend your disbelief for the sake of a fictional tale. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Chewing the end of her pen, she leans closer to the computer monitor as her eyes scan the Reuters website almost frantically.

Aemond Targaryen, son of late billionaire, Viserys Targaryen, charged for the murder of his nephew, Lucerys Velaryon. Case pending trial.

Nervous excitement swirls in her gut, as she leans back in her uncomfortable, creaky office chair. This is the first mention she has seen of such a scandal, unsurprising considering how high profile the Targaryen family are in Westeros. They’ll have worked hard to cover this up, however, with a court case imminent, the news is now public knowledge.

She knows that every media outlet from Dorne to Eastwatch will be all over this, but it will be nothing beyond surface level detail, the most basic of coverage. None of them will be able to get the family to talk, but she can, that is her specialty – was her specialty.

Essos Fraudster Glorified by White Cloak Magazine.

The headline passes through her mind like a stormcloud, a dirty mark upon her career that she can never scrub out. She had been duped, it was an honest mistake, but it had cost her dearly.

When whisperings began regarding an oligarch from Essos having shady business dealings in King’s Landing, she had set out to investigate, feeling it was a story worth telling. To her surprise, he had agreed to an interview, and she had been spun a tale of a man born into tremendous wealth, who was now looking to give back by setting up charitable foundations across Westeros.

She had done her due diligence, followed up on all of the sources at her disposal. Every phone call she made checked out, verifying his claims, and so the glossy double page spread had run in White Cloak Magazine, painting a picture of a misunderstood, altruistic individual who just wanted to share his wealth.

It had been the crowning achievement of her journalistic career, until two days later when the Blackwater Post had run their own story, utterly destroying hers. The oligarch was in fact guilty of tax evasion and money laundering, the charities he had founded mere fronts, empty shell corporations and hedge funds used to hide large sums of money that were never intended to be donated. The sources he had provided to back his claims had all been disreputable business associates of his, posing as bankers, accountants and employees.

He was jailed for his crimes and White Cloak was made a laughing stock for the piece they had run. As the person who had written it, it was her head that was placed upon the chopping block, a blunder of such enormity could not be overlooked.

Her humiliation had felt as though it would swallow her whole. She ought to have been more thorough in her research, but hindsight always possesses more clarity than what is right in front of you. She had considered just giving up and pursuing a different career path entirely, yet despite the shame that shrouded her, she had known that the urge to write would never leave her, an insatiable itch that must be scratched.

For a year she had looked for another job, had applied to just about every magazine and newspaper that existed in Westeros. If she had to relocate to Dorne, The Reach, or even The North then she’d do it for the sake of her career. Unfortunately, the blemish on her record was well known, and nowhere reputable would touch her.

That was until the Duskendale Gazette had taken a chance on her. The pet project of Royce Baratheon, it is a small, localised publication, a far cry from the nationwide reach of the high end White Cloak, but they were willing to hire her, the salary covers her rent, and it means not having to move away from King’s Landing.

For the last eighteen months she has occupied a desk in a darkened corner of the Duskendale Gazette’s offices, lovingly nicknamed “The Wall” by those that sit there - a place where writers at the end of their careers or close to retirement are sent to die.

It has been a slow, painful death, covering everything from disputes over fishing permits in Blackwater Bay to the implementation of a one way traffic system in Rosby. Discovering the news regarding Aemond Targaryen feels like the shot of adrenaline that her career needs to bring it back to life, provided he’s willing to speak to her – provided she can get sign off to write the story in the first place.

She sets down the biro she has been gnawing on and looks at the time on her computer. 9.02am. Glancing over her shoulder towards the big, glass walled meeting room that sits at the centre of the newsroom, she can see that Royce, along with the other editors and department heads are settling around the table, preparing to plan the next round of commissions.

Anxiously biting her lip, she considers her options. It would look bad to just walk in uninvited, however, if she doesn’t ask now then she’ll never get to do it. This is a story worth writing, surely they’d see that? Abruptly, she stands up, drawing in a steadying breath.

Fuck it, I’m going in.

She knocks at the door, not awaiting an answer before pushing it open. The men around the table furrow their brows, falling silent as they turn to look at her.

Royce shuffles the papers in front of him, sighing in irritation. “We’re in the middle of a meeting.”

Undeterred, in spite of the way her heart thunders in her chest, she steps further into the room towards the head of the table where he sits. “I know and that’s why I’m here. I saw on Reuters this morning that Aemond Targaryen has been charged with the murder of his nephew. I–”

“You won’t be covering that,” Royce interrupts, standing from his seat and lifting a sheet of paper from the pile. “I’m putting you on the upcoming curfew that’s to be implemented in Flea Bottom.”

“Royce, please, there’s something here, I know there is,” she presses, attempting to push down the anger that simmers hotly under her skin at his dismissal. “This could be huge for us.”

“You’ll write the story you’re assigned,” he insists, thrusting the paper towards her, “the last thing we need is a profile of some spoiled aristocrat, especially from someone with your track record.”

There it is. Someone with your track record.

“Just give me a chance–”

“You will write what I’ve commissioned, and be grateful you’re getting anything at all.”

“So you’re just going to ignore this?”

“We’ll place a court reporter on it once it goes to trial, but that is not your concern. Focus on your own assignment.”

She turns on her heel, storming back to her desk. Her skin burns with humiliation, tears blurring her vision as she sits down, slapping the commission sheet down next to her keyboard. Drawing in a steadying breath, she scrubs her hands over her face in an attempt to calm herself.

Scanning the assignment she’s been given, she scoffs. A curfew enforced by King’s Landing Constabulary as a means to curb the violent and drunken behaviour that’s rife in Flea Bottom. It's a soulless story, she knows she’ll be expected to simply present the facts, alongside a media ready quote from the police force, instead of addressing the rampant poverty in the area that is the catalyst for such problems. The final product will be better used as ad space.

It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission, and wanting to prove Royce wrong, she decides to press ahead with the story that she wants to write anyway. Opening her internet browser, she searches the Targaryen name, presented with hundreds of links and articles regarding the family.

There is nothing she doesn’t already know; they’re from old money, own most of the banking and legal services from here to Oldtown and there is a rift that divides Viserys’ second wife, Alicent, and her children from his first daughter, Rhaenyra, and her family.

The remaining patriarch of the family, Otto Hightower, owns a law firm called Red Keep Solicitors which is based in the centre of King’s Landing. A good enough place to start for her background research. Scanning the office to ensure no one’s looking, she stuffs her assignment sheet into her bag and slips out unnoticed.

As she steps out of the taxi that has pulled up outside of the high rise office block, she is surprised by the lack of media presence. She had assumed that with the information that leaked this morning, there would be a line of news station vans parked along the pavement, with journalists all clamouring to get a vox pop from someone from either the Hightower or Targaryen family. Besides a steady flow of traffic down the street, it’s dead. Whoever is working to keep the media away is doing an exceptional job. For once, she is thankful she works for a small, local newspaper; no notoriety means being able to fly under the radar.

The polished black marble of the foyer floor causes each of her footsteps to echo around the lofty reception. The space is modern and minimalist; the reception desk placed at the far wall, the motif of a castle with the company name emblazoned across the wall behind it. A forest green, crushed velvet sofa sits off to the side, serving as the waiting area.

“Good morning,” the young woman seated behind the desk greets her. “How may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Otto Hightower,” she says, smiling politely. The less she gives away, the less likely she is to be turned away.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m afraid not. I was hoping he might be able to squeeze me in for a quick consultation?” She asks hopefully.

“Hmm,” the receptionist’s eyes narrow, regarding her with suspicion, before she taps delicately at the keyboard of her computer. “I’m afraid Mr. Hightower is fully booked for today. Can I take a message?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll wait,” she replies, keeping her tone light, attempting to appear casual. She moves to the sofa, taking a seat and crossing one leg over the other. She ignores the receptionist, who is now eyeing her intently.

Plucking her mobile out of her bag, she pretends to look busy as the woman behind the desk picks up the phone and speaks in a hushed tone into the receiver, clearly alerting whoever is on the other end to her presence.

Thirty minutes tick by in uncomfortable silence, during which she has checked just about every app on her smartphone and read through most of her emails. Her head snaps up upon hearing the elevator ding. As the doors slide open she sees a tall, much older, bearded man step out. There is no mistaking that this is Otto Hightower.

Jumping to her feet, she follows him as he walks quickly past her, out of the building.

“Mr. Hightower, might I have a moment of your time?”

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t even turn to look back at her, his tone clipped as he tells her “I have no interest in speaking to the press.”

Undeterred, she lengthens her strides to keep up with him. “I understand your concern, but I’m not here to drag anyone’s name through the mud. I’d just like to understand more about what happened with your grandson.”

“No comment,” he says flatly, pulling open the rear door of a sleek, black Mercedes that pulls up to the curb and climbing in.

Before she has the opportunity to say anything else, he’s slamming the door closed and the car is pulling away.

She groans in frustration, walking back towards the entrance of Red Keep solicitors and leaning against the wall. She isn’t ready to give up, not when she’s had a small taste of what it’s like to work on something she actually cares about again. This is just a minor setback, she’ll find someone willing to speak to her. For now, she just needs to get back to the office and plan what the next step of her strategy will be. Pulling out her phone, she opens the taxi app, preparing to head back.

“You’re as subtle as a sledgehammer.”

The quiet voice pulls her attention away from her screen and she glances over her shoulder to be met by a dark, curly haired man, leaning heavily on a cane, an orthopedic shoe on his left foot.

“Excuse me?”

“You couldn’t really have believed that showing up here unannounced would get you an interview, surely?”

She scowls. “And who might you be?”

“Larys Strong,” he replies, eyes never leaving hers.

She turns fully to face him. “And how do you know what will or won’t get me an interview?”

His lips quirk into the faintest of smiles, eyes moving slowly from her head to her feet and back up again. It unnerves her and she can feel herself involuntarily shrinking away from him. 

“It’s my job to know. The Hightowers are keen to prevent any unwanted…whispers from occurring, as I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“So, no one from the family would be willing to speak with me?”

“Absolutely not. But I might be.”

“You? How would you be able to help me?”

His eyes seem to glitter, almost malevolently, as he stares at her. It sends a shiver up her spine.

“Oh, I provide all kinds of help to all kinds of people.”

He produces a business card from his inside pocket, handing it to her.

Larys Strong, Harrenhal Associates.

She gives a quiet thanks, fishing around in her bag and handing him one of her own. He glances at it quickly, before slipping it into the pocket from which he’d taken his own.

“Come by my office around seven this evening,” he tells her. “I’m sure we have much to talk about.”

Watching in stunned silence as he turns and shuffles back inside the entrance of Red Keep Solicitors, she knows she should feel excited – she finally has her in, dubious as it may be – however, she cannot shake the feeling that she has just unwittingly stepped into the midst of something sinister.

She whiles away the remainder of the day back at the Duskendale Gazette, ensuring she knows everything there is to know about the Targaryen and Hightower families – at least everything that’s publicly available anyway. She also looks into Larys Strong; there’s little to be found about him, but what she is able to dig up is impressive. He’s a solicitor, and has seemingly never lost a case for any of the clients he’s defended. She has an eerie feeling that the means through which he achieves this are far from ethical.

By the time seven o’ clock rolls around, she’s stood outside of a dingy brick building, located off of the Street of Silk. It does not even come close to the grandiosity of Red Keep Solicitors, without even so much as a sign to indicate it’s a place of business.

Ignoring the voice at the back of her mind that screams at her to turn and run, she presses the buzzer, pulling the door open as it’s released and making her way up the rickety wooden staircase to the top floor.

The room is dimly lit, small and stuffy, worn out carpet lines the floor, complete with furnishings that are likely older than she is. What strikes her as most odd is the abundance of flowers, there’s a vase on every flat surface and they look strangely out of place, a lurid splash of brightness against their darkened surroundings. She wrinkles her nose, the cloying scent of patchouli is overpowering. It’s either being used to cover up the odour of something else or is a misguided attempt to suggest opulence, but instead comes across as tacky.

Larys hovers in the doorway to his own personal office, watching her as she takes in her surroundings.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he eventually says. “I appreciate that an out of hours visit is less than ideal, but I’m sure you understand the need for discretion.”

She nods, nerves swirling in her gut at the sudden realisation that no one knows that she’s here.

“My secretary has left for the day, so please leave your phone and any recording devices on her desk. I trust you realise that anything discussed this evening is strictly off of the record?”

“Understood,” she replies, deciding to just leave her entire bag on the desk as she follows Larys into his office.

It’s even smaller and more cramped than the tiny space that serves as the reception area. Overstuffed shelves of books line the walls, and the room’s only illumination is a lamp which sits upon the desk.

Larys settles into a leather armchair behind it, gesturing for her to take the seat on the other side.

“Can I ask what your involvement with the Targaryen family is?” She finally asks, once settled across from him.

He sits back, fingers moving absentmindedly over the grip of his cane. “I provide counsel to them. I will be acting as Aemond’s legal defense in the upcoming trial.”

She raises her eyebrows in shock. It’s surprising to know a family as wealthy as the Targaryens would be willing to trust such a delicate matter with someone who operates their business out of a seedy back alley. “You? Why?”

He huffs a humourless laugh, upturning the palm of his free hand. “Who else would? No one from Red Keep Solicitors could represent him, it would be a conflict of interest. And besides, I get results, as I’m sure you know.”

“Yes, I do, as I’m sure you know all about me. Which leads me to my next question, if the Targaryens don’t want the media involved in this then why have you agreed to speak with me?”

Larys is silent for a moment, fingers stroking delicately over the petals of a red flower that sits within a vase upon his desk. “My reasons are twofold,” he says, finally looking up at her. “First, both sides of the family have come to a mutual agreement that neither one will talk to the press. I feel that is a mistake. Aemond needs all the help he can get. I don’t necessarily mean starting a media circus to report upon his every move and dig into his past, just one reputable source to give him a leg up while he’s at a disadvantage. Second, I have chosen you because I’m aware of your past…indiscretions. The future of your career rests upon this, so I know you will treat it with the due diligence it deserves.”

She scoffs in disbelief, running a hand through her hair. “The guy’s been charged with murder, how much care could he possibly need?”

“The prosecution will be pushing for a sentence for murder, yes. I’ll be arguing for a lesser sentence of manslaughter.”

“So, he didn’t mean to do it?”

“I think it’s better said in his own words.”

“You can arrange an interview with him?”

“I can arrange a visit for you to speak with him where he’s currently being remanded in custody, at Dragonstone Prison, yes.”

She attempts to remain neutral as her excitement bubbles unrestrained internally. “When is the trial?”

“In three weeks, so we have to act swiftly. I believe this concludes our discussion. I shall be in touch regarding your visitation.”

She is taken aback by the abrupt ending to their conversation, rising slowly from her seat as she leaves his office and collects her bag. It’s unnerving that even as she descends the staircase she can still feel his presence, the sweet, heady aroma clinging to her clothes like an invisible fog.

True to his word, Larys gets her her visit, and two days later she sits in the ferry terminal for Dragonstone Prison. Having had her identification checked, and her details input onto the system, she is issued a number and has to wait for it to be called before she can board.

The wait is agonising, and a full hour passes before she is called forward, scrambling to her feet towards the boarding area. The grey waters are choppy, causing the ferry to rock slightly on its short journey across the Gullet, until the craggy isle that houses the criminals of Westeros comes into view. The high, cement walls of Dragonston Prison are imposing and bleak against the skyline.

Disembarking the ferry, she is guided through the visitors’ entrance and searched, her personal effects rifled through as she walks through a metal detector, and her electronic devices taken away, to be returned to her upon her departure. Her identification is checked once more, and her details input onto the system again. She is told to take a seat, her name will be called when it’s time for her visitation to begin.

The hard seat is uncomfortable, and without the distraction of her phone she is left to stare at the clock on the wall. Its relentless ticking is maddening, the minutes feeling as though they crawl past. So absorbed in watching it, she jumps when her name is finally called, struggling to compose herself as she’s ushered through into the visitation area.

A series of tables and plastic chairs make up the startling white windowless room, and she is led to one in the far corner. Unsure of what to do, she simply stands beside her seat, awaiting the man she is to meet.

From the photos she has seen, Aemond cuts an imposing figure, dressed all in black. She hopes that the softness of the grey prison uniform will render him less intimidating. However, those thoughts are dashed the moment she sees him walk slowly through the door on the opposite side of the room.

He is in no rush, his steps are methodical, unhurried, a predator stalking its prey as he moves towards her. The photographs do not do justice to his height, long and lithe, he towers over her, and she feels herself holding her breath as she takes in the sharpness of his features. His long, platinum hair is pulled back into an immaculately styled ponytail, giving her an unhindered view of his chiseled jaw, aquiline nose and prominent cheekbones, though spoiled slightly by the ragged, angry looking scar that runs the length of the left side of his face. The eye within the socket sits milky and lifeless, but it does little to lessen the intensity of the brilliant blue of his right.

She notices the slightest dilation of his pupil as he stares unblinkingly at her, making her heart race as the cold sweat of fear prickles the back of her neck. So preoccupied with simply getting her story, it has not occurred to her until now that she would be face to face with a killer.

Certain he senses her fright, she sees his lips twitch with the faintest of smirks. The fact that it does not reach his eye makes her blood run cold.

Part two || Series masterlist

[eternal-love]

Public Relations

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female!Reader

warning?: (talk about motherhood, slight cheating)

Summary: You and Austin had a baby recently, but things haven’t been peachy, not at all. Fans are starting to speculate. And PR is chasing your asses.

The last time Austin and you were together was right after the birth of your baby girl in June, he had been bugging you for a year of how much he wanted to be a daddy.

At first you were not going to give it to him. You knew his career, how busy he got and it was true, his career was his priority and nothing would ever change that. You understood, he had worked SO hard for it and he wouldn’t leave it to be a stay-at-home daddy or a husband. There was a reason why there wasn’t a ring on your finger.

But you reluctantly agreed to have a baby, just to see him happy. Although you yourself weren’t so sure about it. The pregnancy, damn, was it hard.

You found yourself feeling worn down by the baby inside of you, you went to many midwives and they told you that it was normal. But you couldn’t really do much anyways. You stayed at home, laying down in the bed or bathtub, he was there with you.

And now, months later, your baby girl was three months old and you were in LA. His house in LA, because you lived with him. He was staying in NYC.

You woke up one morning, the baby laying besides you sound asleep. Getting up from the bed, putting on your slippers as opening the windows. Today, you were going to New York because of his PR manager.

You bathed your baby girl, Lux. She totally had Austin’s face. So when you missed him, you looked at her, but whenever he screwed up, you couldn’t look at her. You knew you were being immature but— how can you look at your daughter when she has the face of a man that has hurt you multiple times?

Getting to NYC wasn’t a really long trip, but you never liked it.

You never quite liked New York after getting in a relationship with Austin. Granted, before getting with him, you and your friends spent many morning doing ‘shame-walks’ back to apartments or hotels after wild nights out.

That’s literally how you met Austin, half drunk and with cigarette in your hand, waiting for a taxi to pass by, you didn’t even notice the ash from your cigarette had burnt a hole into Austin’s shirt.

Back then, 2019, he had broken up with Vanessa a month ago and when you got with him, you knew the kind of scrutiny you were getting yourself into. The rumors of you being his side-girl, the reason he broke up with her. And you know, at first you were just a stupid rebound, a one night thing. But when you didn’t leave the next morning after having sex— you both knew you were up for a ride.

Arriving at his apartment in New York, you entered and turned on all the lights, it looked like no one really lived there, not because it was ugly but because everything was so neat. It’s like he only woke up, did his morning routine, went out, and came back to sleep. That was mostly because he basically had been living here on his own for months.

You two didn’t even act like a couple anymore, like anyone would think you’re divorced and you have custody of the kid.

Didn’t take long before he arrived, you heard the keys and the doorknob turning. You heard his boots and he finally entered the living room. You were breastfeeding Lux.

“Oh, fuck, you scared me.” He jumped a little, all the lights were turned off except a small lamp.

“I thought you knew we were here already.” You rolled your eyes. Lux had finished eating, so you pulled her from your breast, covered up and started burping her.

She was so small still, none of this was her fault. Austin leaned down and only kissed your cheek. Not your lips, no nothing. Biting the inside of your check, you glanced down.

“I went to eat but— there’s plenty of food on the fridge.” Austin said, pushing his now long blond hair back. “If you want anything.”

“I had some fruit I saw in the fridge. I’m not very hungry lately.” You said, maybe it was just the whole postpartum thing. It was something weird and new to you. Losing hair, gaining weight, feeling depressed. It all took a toll on you. As it did on other women.

“Well, you should eat. You have been losing too much hair, baby. You have nothin’ on your head!” Austin tried to joke. The joke didn’t quite land, at all.

You got yourself onto his apartment, he had hanged pictures of you, he had added a few of the three of you. Recent one, from when Lori was but a few weeks old. Hanged there on the top of his bed.

You dropped one of your earrings and you knelt to grab it. Reaching to grab it, what did you grab? A g-string.

It wasn’t yours. You are a mother now. A g-string couldn’t hold your entire vagina even if you wanted to.

He had been seeing her again. That fucking nepo-baby. Kaia Gerber. He had been seeing her since the end of 2021. You had told him: it’s going to come back to bite you in the ass. But he didn’t listen.

When you told him to do something, he did the opposite.

But you wanted karma to get him. It still hurt, of course. You had just had his baby, it would hurt anyone. You just threw it down there again.

You two were selfish, bringing a little kid to this horrible life, where his parents weren’t that much in love anymore.

You were young when you and Austin started to date, pretty much freshly out of school. You were naive back then, thinking that love could beat everything. What a stupid little girl, who makes stupid decisions and never learns.

“You’ve been seeing her again.” You said to him.

“We’ve been through this before, y/n…” he groaned, as if what you said was an inconvenience.

“Exactly. And every time I try to tell you that she’s not good for you—“

“It’s my goddamn business, alright?” He snapped at you after interrupting.

“It’s not just your business, you son of a bitch. There’s a baby involved. Your baby. Yours.” You finally snapped too.

“Listen. I don’t want to argue today, alright?” He laid back on the couch.

He was a pretty fucker, you wouldn’t deny it. He had gained a shit ton of muscle for the movie he had started filming. He looked three times bigger than when you had first met him.

“PR wants you to be on set tomorrow, with Lux.” Austin said. Looking at his phone.

“Why?” You asked, confused. You barely visited him on any set. Not because you didn’t want to but because he didn’t want you distracting him.

“What else for? Photos. They want to see us be a pretty little fucking family. Isn’t that good?” He said, a little smirk on his face.

“Like, putting on a show?” You asked, confused. You weren’t new to PR moved but this one seemed a little… icky.

“It’ll benefit us both! And it’s a chance for you to finally see me get into action.” He smiled, as if this was a normal Tuesday. Nothing like a good ol’ PR stunt.

“Right, to make you seem like the family guy, got it.” You said sarcastically.

“Don’t be so sarcastic, alright? It’ll make wonders.”

You sat by his side, he turned to face you and his hand reached for your cheek, caressing it with his thumb.

“You have to help me out, baby. Alright, doll?” He basically purred out.

He had a way of making you want to do anything he said.

“Just this one time.” You agreed, reluctantly, you wanted to smack him but you wanted to help him.

“God, I love you.” He leaned in and kissed your cheek, his beard itchy.

You didn’t understand him, did he love you? Did her love Kaia? Did he love just the idea of you being there for him? What did he love?

You got ready to visit him in set while Lux was asleep, once she woke up from her sleep, you bathed her in a little plastic tub.

“Look at you, you smell delicious.” You said as you basically breaded her with baby powder. You liked baby smell, just the smell of them. They smelled clean, pink, you couldn’t even describe it. “Wanna go and see daddy?”

You sprayed on perfume before leaving his apartment. You looked pretty enough for the photos. The whole ride there was filled with traffic, but that’s New York City for all.

Once you got there, you were welcomed by his publicist, Kate.

“Y/n! Over here. Listen, it’ll be easy. You just wait here until Darren yell ‘cut’, then Austin will come up and you’ll be holding Lux. He’ll play with her. Smile at you, kiss you.”

Like acting. Quite literally scripted like a movie scene.

“Okay, yes. Sure.��� You nodded, pushing Lux’s stroller.

You walked to the sidelines of filming, standing besides makeup artists, the hair girls, costume, producers, etc. They leaned down and cooed Lux whenever they could.

“She looks just like him!” They said, each and every single one of them.”

Even Darren himself said so. You voicing help but roll your eyes. You hated that she looked so much like him. She had her face, yet she was innocent. She hadn’t done anything to you. Nothing. Just be born with that idiot’s face.

Then it came acting time, Darren yelled ‘cut’ and you reached for Austin with little Lux in your arms. She had a pink onesie and a little pink headband.

Austin went into daddy mode, walking towards you as he cooed baby Lux. He got closer and player with her tiny hands.

“They’re right behind you.” He said as she kept smiling. He was referring to fans there, whose pictures would fly on the internet as soon as they were posted.

They were a complete hit as his PR had predicted. So they went with it, they planned another PR date. The fucking concert. A Gracie Abram’s one at that. Neither did you or Austin listened to her music.

“This is ridiculous.” You muttered as you looked outside the car window. You wore basic clothes, you took your time with the hair and maybe the makeup. But you didn’t leave the apartment very relaxed, there was a nanny taking care of Lux but you didn’t trust her. The fuck you did, you didn’t trust anyone to be around her.

“Just for the photos, alright? I don’t want to do this either but you know— PR.” He said.

The concert was lame, not that the girl wasn’t talented but you weren’t even focused on the whole ordeal. Instead, you focused on texting the nanny about Lux while Austin drank a Corona. Nothing, maybe it it had been a concert of an artist you both enjoyed, you two would have been wrapped on each other’s arms, but who knows? With how things had been, you doubt it.

Getting out of the concert, he put on a fucking face mask. You sighed, but you grabbed his arm as you walked towards the car, the paparazzi there already picturing you two. You weren’t used to paparazzi, you would never be, so you clung onto him, at least a bit tighter. Almost like a deadly grip. Then he took his face mask off, and her rubbed his hand a few times. He looked annoyed already.

The photos went out that very night, various tabloids, and fan accounts of him posted them. So, it didn’t go as planned.

Austin Butler and girlfriend, Y/n, make another public appearance after attending Gracie Abrams’ concert. They’re still going strong!

“He’s the creator of #ihatemygf lol🤣”

“Can she be any less clingy? He looks uncomfortable.”

“She’s gripping him like he’s going to run away if she lets go! ���”

“They have zero chemistry. I smell a break up.”

“I’m tired of the media forcing them down my throat!”

“She has ZERO MEDIA TRAINING. She’s been with him for six years and she still acts like a frigid little girl.”

“Are these two supposed to be couple goals? I don’t even wish this relationship on my worst enemy.”

“These two can’t even make a PR stunt look buyable! If I were a paparazzi, I wouldn’t even sell these photos!”

Looks like there’s trouble in paradise! Austin Butler and baby mama, y/n. Make yet a second public appearance but people are quick to point out the switch in their body language. As in other photos, it seems like Austin tried to get her off him subtly. As a quote from himself:

‘My love language is physical touch. Tell how great I am and touch me.’

Are we smelling a break up or was it just a common couple disagreement?

“They need to get off each other’s back. He needs a woman his age and she needs a guy her age.”

“They’re stupid for having a baby, they look like they hate each other.”

“Why is she not taking care of his baby?!”

“Do they hate each other? They’re a mess!😂”

“I can’t even look at the second photo without cracking up. Austin’s face says: finally this clingy bitch got off me. 😆”

Yeah, it didn’t go as planned. Austin wasn’t pissed but he was definitely annoyed.

“This is the last fucking time I’m listening to Kate.” Austin threw his phone on the bed. Irritated, he had done all that circus last night for nothing. “Listen, let’s talk.”

You sat there, Lux laid in bed, this could have been a very wholesome family moment. But you three weren’t a wholesome family.

“Alright, let’s talk.” You nodded.

“This thing between us,” he pointed at you and then at the baby and then at him. “It’s not working, it stopped working a long time ago.”

You nod, you knew that. Hell, you knew that since the last trimester of your pregnancy. When you spent them mostly in bed or taking baths. You knew you had become boring but it wasn’t your intention. Nobody ever told you that the life you were creating took so much from you. Lux leeched from you for nine months straight.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” You said, almost as in a tone that said ‘isn’t it obvious?’

“I don’t know why we don’t work anymore. I don’t know what the hell happened between us.” Austin pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“And what am I supposed to do, huh? I hadn’t seen you in two months, you left me in LA, alone with—“

Austin clenched his jaw, tight. “Don’t out this all on me. It was your choice to have the baby. Maybe if you hadn’t got pregnant, we wouldn’t have this mess!”

After he said that, something inside of you snapped. What the fuck were you doing still with him? With a guy who never woke up by your side. With a guy whose career was his main priority. With a guy that sweet-talked you to have a baby and when he couldn’t handle the changes, flew to NYC. You changed, yes. But it was for him and because of him. You couldn’t keep living with the uncertainty.

“That’s it. I’m going back to LA.” You stood up from the bed, cuddling baby Lux in your arms. You grabbed your purse and Lux’s baby bag. Austin’s eyes widened.

“Are you seriously making another scene, again Austin asked with an irritated expression, but when you grabbed Lux’s baby bottler, he knew you were serious. “No, wait. Hear me out.” He tried to stand in front of you.

“I’m tired of hearing you out!” You said as she circled around him, getting out of the bedroom.

“I’m sorry! I don’t mean to be such an asshole. Or take it out on you. I guess I’m not handling all of this well.” He said softly.

“That’s not my fault.” You snapped again. Tired of always being understanding. Of always trying to be calm and respectful of whatever he said.

“I know. I was just being a dick, alright? I’m sorry,” He looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes, but you wouldn’t fall, not again.

“I’m tired of being understanding and kind. I’m tired of having to listen to every single one of your excuses. I’m done with this. I’m done with being shredded to pieces by the media because you can’t seem to like me. I’m done with you playing with me and that fucking nepobaby. I’m tired of having to be there for you in everything and you can’t even do it for me.”

You snapped, looking at him right in the eye.

“This is where we end.” You said, you didn’t even give him an ultimatum. It just wouldn’t be fixed. It wouldn’t.

“No, wait! You can’t just break up with me. We have a kid, y/n, have common sense…” He said, reaching for your hand.

Were you about to cry because he was holding back tears? Of course. You rarely saw him cry, but you had to be strong. At least for yourself.

“We can be co-parents. It’s the best thing for her. I don’t want her growing up in a place where her parents hate each other’s guts.” You said, you had made up your mind. “I’m sorry.”

You said before storming out of his apartment.

He couldn’t even move. Seriously. Everything had come down on him. Maybe if they hadn’t done that stupid PR stunt, they would have gotten a week or more together.

Author’s note: This is so fucking long, wtf????

Anyways. Thank you for reading 🫶💕

[cxrdycxps]

Caught In A Trap • Joel Miller

☢️ sexual assault (past but there’s flashbacks and discussions) • victim shaming • description of injuries • blood • panic attacks • swearing • ☢️

Main Masterlist • Joel Miller Masterlist

This is part 2 of Cat and Mouse. You should really read that first unless you enjoy not understanding the narrative. Unfortunately this fic has a mind of its own and is gonna have a final third part. I know, I know. I hate myself too. It should be out by tomorrow night, yes I said that last time. No, I’m not lying this time. Thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged and commented so far. I love you all.

“It’s stupid. Isn’t it?” You asked Lou, pacing her living room. She had listened to you explain the whole date to her and now she was weighing up her opinion of what happened and you couldn’t take the silence. “I’m stupid. He’s fucked half the town. Why am I surprised he played me?”

“Like you played him?” Lou asked and you stopped your pacing to stare at her. She didn’t hide from your stare like most people tended to, meeting you dead on. You clenched your jaw before taking a seat and nodding. “Look, I love you. When two people have been through what we’ve been through, there are repercussions. We were items of use. We weren’t people. We didn’t get to have names or belongings or even autonomy. That way of living is going to leave a scar.”

“I don’t want them to have me any more. I don’t want to hide and just do as I’m told. I don’t want to have sex with a man just because he wanted it.” You told her with a sniffle, wiping your face. “But they all do it. They all do something and then they make it my fault, like I’m the crazy bitch.”

“Hear me out?” Lou asked and you nodded. “You keep picking men that make you crazy. Like Nolan right? He used you for sex. He wasn’t open about it but once you figured it out, you let it continue to happen. Abdul, had a reputation for having more than one woman on the go. Aidan was a misogynist from the word go. Luca wanted a housewife, not a partner. Every man you’ve tried to date has been really fucking shit.”

“They have to be. They need to be awful. There aren’t any good men.” Lou held her hand out to you and you took it, letting her draw you into a hug. You hadn’t realized that it was you that was sobbing. “There was so many and none of them tried to help. If there was good men they would’ve helped.”

“Those men weren’t banded together because they were good. They banded together because they were like minded individuals.” Lou told you, rocking you both from side to side. “You knew Joel Miller was a slut. You’ve heard more stories about him having sex than there are single, age appropriate women in the compound.”

“He was nice. He was nice and I slept with him and we, he made me laugh. No one ever bothered to do that. He offered to go home. He would’ve left if I didn’t want it.” You whispered and Lou shushed you again. “For the first time since Nolan I had sex on the first date. I wanted it this time.”

“While I’m sure Joel Miller is a great guy, that’s the bare minimum. I know you’ve never received it but respecting your right to withdraw consent is basic human decency.” Lou told you and you wondered what it meant that having your basic human rights respected felt like winning the jackpot.

“He didn’t mean it though. He got what he wanted by filling my head with false promises. Then he sent his kid, who wasn’t even suppose to know about us, to bail him out. He had expected me to give in.” You cried against Lou’s neck and she shushed you gently. “It felt good. For the first time. When I told him I had an ache the next morning he didn’t insist I just push past it. He was gentle with me.”

“Those are some more of those basic human rights. Absolutely no one should be trying to push you to agree to sex that will hurt.” Lou sighed and you blinked at her.

“It’s bad that I don’t know that, right?” You asked and she only shook her head, kissing your forehead.

“You were in that room for a long time. There was so much you missed, so much to learn. I’ll help you.”

///

Joel stayed to the rear of the group out on patrol. He was fixing to give Tommy a peace of his mind but heading out to kill a bunch of runners wasn’t the time. Tommy and Joel never argued on a patrol because they needed to have each other’s back.

So Joel didn’t give in to the temptation, keeping his distance from his brother who clearly didn’t see anything wrong in his actions. That just made Joel even more mad.

Ellie was on his shit list too because she knew better than to listen to Tommy. She knew better than to come looking for him on a night he said he wasn’t available to her. Boundaries were important between him and Ellie and he was pissed that she ignored him.

“I know that face.” Joel inhaled deeply because right now Nolan was the last guy he needed to see. He had been pissed enough to find him on the patrol but so far he had stayed well away. “Black Widow sunk her fangs into you, huh?”

“Do I look like I’m in the mood?” Joel asked, barely tilting his head in Nolan’s direction. Tommy looked back at Joel when he heard him speak and winced but turned and kept his face forward.

That pissed Joel off even more. Tommy had probably had something to do with Nolan being on the patrol. Joel clenched his jaw.

“She ended things?” Nolan asked and Joel stared resolutely ahead. “You said something bad, didn’t you? It was a joke or a throw away comment but little miss took it to heart.”

“Nolan, fuck off.” Joel warned, eyes facing forward. He couldn’t help but be relieved when Abdul heard the tension in his voice and dropped back. Abdul was a good guy and it might deter Nolan.

“Always ends it once she gets what she wants. Bet every conversation left you wrong footed. Had to feel like you’d make it up to her?” Joel inhaled deeply and stared at Tommy. He was willing to bet Ellie’s life there was no pack of runners.

“You can go and fuck yourself too.” Joel warned. He took measured deep breaths and remembered that he was liable to get in trouble if he hurt any of them unprompted. It wasn’t the same lawless land in Jackson. He couldn’t just punch people that pissed him off.

“Man, we’re trying to help you here. We’ve all been through it. This is what she does as some sick fucking revenge.” Abdul told Joel and he swallowed roughly. “She had some bad times outside the wall, got a little roughed up once or twice before Jackson.”

“When she got here she decided it was our fault. Let’s it look like our decision, you know? To pursue her. Happened to be in our line of view at the bar, we chose to talk to her. We didn’t choose anything.” Nolan piped up and Joel furrowed his brow. “Let’s you feel like you’re playing her then leaves you high and dry. Like you need to go looking for her.”

“She’ll bump into you a couple of times. Each time she’ll cause an argument or make you out to be an asshole. The next time she sees you she’s already forgotten about it.” Abdul spoke again and Joel felt his chest tighten. “Tells you all about her three date rule.”

“She doesn’t do one night stands.” Nolan scoffed and Joel looked over at him sharply. “She never does it, makes her feel dirty. Until she’s crawling into your lap like a damn bitch in heat.”

“That’s enough now.” Joel warned Nolan when his tone changed from conversational to direct anger.

“Safe, you made her feel safe.” Abdul finished and Joel realized that without a shadow of a doubt, he’s been played.

///

“Joel isn’t a dick.” You jumped, the rocking chair jolting with your movements. You raised your sunglasses off your eyes and found Ellie Williams standing at the top of your porch step. Unlike the times you had pretended with Joel, you genuinely hadn’t heard her coming and it sort of unnerved you. “It seems like he is but he ain’t.”

“Ellie, I’m sure he ain’t.” You sighed and set your sunglasses back down over your eyes and tilted your head back to continue absorbing the last of the Summer sun. “Don’t you worry about what I think about your daddy.”

“Okay firstly, that’s weird. Don’t say that. Joel isn’t my dad.” You lifted your head up again to look at her. “He and I went through a lot together but I only met him like two years ago.”

“Okay. My point still stands. I’m sure he’s a great guy. Don’t worry about me. I was just in a bad mood the other day, ‘s all.” You assured her. You didn’t want her to think bad of Joel, father or not.

“Cause I made you think that. I shoulda known better than listen to Tommy. Joel was having an off-duty night. We’ve got boundaries. Boundaries are important.” You sighed and sat forward in your chair. You knew that your relaxing had come to an end.

“Honey, I was mad at him before you knocked on that door. People like me, well, we got issues. I’m tryna work on them but I don’t always do that good.” You told her and she nodded, listening earnestly. “I had some rough things happen and now I play games with people. I can’t help it. I’m trying to find someone that can put up with me, pass my tests.”

“Joel can put up with anyone. He crossed the country with only me for company. I’m annoying as fuck.” Ellie told you with a grin and you huffed a laugh. “You should give him another chance.”

“I don’t think it’s in the card but you’re real sweet for tryin’ to fix things between us. It isn’t his fault really. I shoulda known better.” You explained and she frowned, crossing her arms.

“Is this cause Tommy says you dump men to punish them?” You clenched your jaw and wondered if you were going to have to have a word with Tommy. Tell him to mind his own business before you minded it for him. “I was taken by a man who wanted to hurt me before. I killed him.”

“Not all of us are that fortunate, kid. But if I ever see him again I’ll have a go. See if it fixes me.” You assured her. You ignored her comment about Tommy and leaned back in your seat again.

“I think that you’re making a mistake. Punishing Joel. He’s the only person I know who doesn’t deserve punishment.” Ellie spoke quietly.

“Me keeping my distance is the opposite of a punishment. I can assure you that.”

///

The key got caught in the lock. The hinges of the door squeaked. Every floorboard creaked and groaned. You were able to map the steps taken right up to the edge of the bed. The rattle of a belt buckle. Your arms ached from being tied above your head. “You just been waiting for me, huh?”

You gasped, springing up in the bed with a hand over your racing heart. The room was black with darkness and you fumbled for your lamp, knocking it over in your haste. You ignored the shatter of glass in an effort to get to the main light switch.

You fell against the wall, your panic urging you on. When your fingers closed around the switch and the light came on you could finally breathe.

You were in Jackson. You weren’t there anymore. You were safe and you were home. When your breathing was under control you looked down, unsurprised to find footprints of blood. You had walked on the broken glass.

You let yourself slump against the wall, slipping down to sit and take the weight off your damaged foot. There was no pain to feel yet, your nervous system still on high alert. You sighed heavily, head tilted back. As the adrenaline wore off and the pain kicked in there was no point in fighting the tears.

There you sat against the wall, sniffling and blinking while attempting to get all the glass out of your foot. Swiping at your eyes angrily when you couldn’t see and breathing deep through the sobs trying to fight out of you.

It was exhausting, feeling this way. There were tricks you had learned to make it better. When you had arrived to Jackson every night was spent like this, sobbing in your room cause you were scared of the dark.

Then you had met Nolan. And sure he was a little forceful in his come on but you found the nights easier with him by your side. You had felt safe from the nightmares that plagued your mind. Putting up with sex you didn’t really want was a small price to pay. He never took it forcefully, just spent his time convincing you and wasn’t that easier than what had already happened?

It wasn’t until you found out he had been enjoying your deep sleep a little too much that you had to call it all off with him.

You hadn’t ever told anyone that. Nolan was a valued member of Jackson. He was big and strong. He worked the patrol routes and fixed up houses. You just helped around wherever you were needed.

Nolan hammered home two harsh truths. The first was that there were no good men. The second was that you unfortunately couldn’t keep away from them.

So you played them at their own game. You got a warm body to sleep next to and they got their dicks wet. You made them work for it. You didn’t hand yourself over in a way that made you feel that skin crawling filthy, the way Nolan and all the men before him made you feel.

There was the introduction of your three date rule. You teased them. Made them want you with a desperation that made sure that they’d tell you all their dirty little secrets. The men of Jackson didn’t want to kick you out because you had dumped them. They wanted you out because you held their worst secrets close to your heart.

They feared the monster of their own creation. You wanted them to fear you. Every cheating, lying scumbag among them.

Joel had been different. He had risen to every single challenge you had offered. He had gone the extra mile for you. Sure he had said stupid things but never out of cruelty. Never to hurt you.

Ellie had told you that Tommy had orchestrated the bail out so maybe he hadn’t expected you to do whatever he wanted. Maybe he had been as much a victim of outside sources as you were.

You had wanted him in a way you had never actually wanted a man before. You hadn’t broken your three date rule in years, never since Nolan. But you couldn’t help yourself, crawling into his lap in a way that made you feel like the games were over.

You wanted them to be over. You wanted to be wrapped in Joel’s embrace, wanted him to fend off the nightmares and hold you when they broke through anyway.

You wanted him on top of you, gasping against your neck, pushing into you slowly. He had been so gentle with you, taking his time with you. He had been bashful about his size, almost apologizing until you had been begging him to fuck your harder and deeper.

You sniffled again and probed the skin of your foot, checking for any pain that could be caused by glass still being inside. When you found none you pushed yourself up, limping out of your room and hitting each light switch on the way, bathing your house in the golden glow.

You found your first aid kit in the bathroom and patched your foot up. The tears had stopped for the most part and you took advantage of that to clean up the broken lamp and the blood.

You’d have to visit the clinic tomorrow and get it checked out but for now the bandages would do. When you looked at the clock you found it to be a little after four. Acceptable enough to get up and start your day.

You wouldn’t be getting any more sleep with those images in your mind and the phantom ache in your arms.

///

“Joel it isn’t that big of a deal.” Ellie sighed, trying to shake the grip he had on her shoulder. He didn’t answer and she rolled her eyes at him, wiping the blood out of her face. “Shimmer is gentle usually, she just spooked.”

“She ain’t broken yet. I told you not to ride her.” Joel huffed, pushing her towards the clinic. She had slapped a piece of gauze over her injury and called it a day. He had half a thought to kill her when he had peeled back the gauze and found the deep wound. “Could’ve died.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Ellie sighed, shaking him at last when they pushed through the door. She let him talk to the receptionist, looking around. She blinked when she spotted you dozing in a chair, bandaged foot elevated on a table. Ellie looked over to Joel who hadn’t spotted you yet and grinned, moving to drop into the seat next to you. “Hey.”

“Fucking- Jesus Ellie. What the fuck?” Your eyes flew open and you almost bolted out of the chair. It was then Ellie took in how exhausted you looked. “Gonna put a fucking bell on you.”

“You just reuse all your lines like that?” Joel asked with a scoff and your eyes widened, turning to look at him and back to Ellie. “Got nothing original, huh?”

“What are you talking about?” Ellie asked him, wondering why Joel had his ‘I shoot people for fun’ look on his face.

You were saved from the conversation by your name being called. You pushed yourself up, ignoring Joel’s comments and barely took one step, limping heavily, before Ellie slotted herself in under your arm.

“I’m fine.” You assured her and she shook her head, resolute in helping you.

“She said she’s fine, Ellie.” Joel grunted. Ellie ignored him and supported you walking toward the treatment room.

“Thank you.” You lifted your arm from around her shoulders and supported yourself on the door handle.

She was in the treatment room by the time you had gotten your stitches. You were hoping not to see them again but just as you were receiving a pack of gauze and bandages Ellie stepped out, prodding her own stitches against Joel’s advice.

“What’s the verdict?” Ellie asked, slotting in beside you at the counter. You had been given a pair of crutches and you propped them under your arms.

“Four stitches, no pain meds and the threat of brute force if I’m caught working or walking on my foot.” You told her with a sigh, ignoring Joel’s glare. You felt sort of off balance having him this mad at you. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to but you weren’t blackmailing Joel. You had gotten mad at him for a proper reason.

“I got four stitches too!” Ellie cheered and bumped her shoulder into your arms. “And I’m not allowed nap today. Just in case it’s a concussion. Joel probably won’t let me on a horse ever again.”

“Sucks to be you, I guess. I’m gonna nap all day.” You told her with a shrug, smiling when she laughed at you and shook her head.

“Yeah yeah, you’re a dick. You gonna be okay to get around? I can call by and help?” You frowned at Ellie, eyebrows furrowing at the effort she was suddenly putting in. “What?”

“Thanks for the offer, Honey. But it’s just a little cut. I’ll be fine.” You ruffled her hair before grabbing the gauze and bandages off the counter. “Stay away from them horses, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed and you rolled your eyes before shuffling towards the door, your crutches clicking loudly in the silence that followed. Just before the doors closed behind you you heard it.

“She ain’t your friend. Stop acting like it. She’ll just let you down too.”

If there was one thing you wouldn’t let happen ever again, it was letting a man be right about you.

///

You spent a lot of time out on the rocking chair on your porch over the next few days. The summer was winding down and you were enjoying the last of the warmth before Jackson turned into the frost bitten, snow covered town it was in Winter.

Your foot hurt something awful but it showed no sign of infection which you were grateful for. Without pain meds the best you could do was stay off it.

Reading on the porch seemed to be the best way for it. And so you spent all of your time out there, watching the comings and goings of Jackson. The days were peaceful, allowing you to nap in the chair to avoid the fact you weren’t sleeping at night.

It wasn’t until the creak of your garden gate sounded on the fourth day that your peace was interrupted. Ellie had a large plaster slapped haphazardly on her forehead and a larger grin on her face.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” You asked her with an eyebrow raised. She only shrugged, tossing her book bag down at your front door and taking a seat on the bench on your porch.

“Told them I had a headache. They sent me home. Except Joel is out all day on a patrol and I’m bored.” Ellie explained and you nodded, rocking yourself with your good foot.

“And you can’t call over here while Joel is around cause he told you not to.” You offered. She shrugged instead of denying it and you had to laugh a little.

“Like I said. Joel isn’t my dad. I don’t have to do what he says.” Ellie explained and you rolled your eyes at the pure teenage attitude that poured off her. “He’s afraid I’ll get attached to you. I once got attached to a book full of puns so he’s probably right.”

“Well I mean, you’re only talking to me cause I spent a night with your father figure and you feel bad for interrupting.” You teased and Ellie laughed.

“Nah. I heard about you way before Joel. I take note of women that men hate. It’s important to be feared by men.” Ellie told you honestly and you laughed, shaking your head. “I read a book about feminism. It was in my room in Jackson when we moved in. It’s important to have good female role models.”

“I’m not a good female role model. I’m the opposite of a role model. I sleep with men to get their secrets. That’s not exactly inspiring.” You reminded her and she shrugged.

“Well I ain’t gonna go copying you if that’s what you’re afraid of. Not like I’ll be sleeping around with the men of Jackson.” Ellie scoffed and you tilted your head at her.

“Is that right?” You asked with raised eyebrows. “I’m sure the women of Jackson will have as many secrets.”

Ellie flushed a deep red and sat up on the bench, her jaw hanging open. “I never said that.”

“Didn’t have to. I’m very observant.” You told her, letting your head fall back again. “I ain’t gonna tell anyone.”

“Ellie!” You winced and Ellie groaned loudly. It seemed Joel had gotten home early. You continued to rock your chair and took a deep breath. He was just as in the wrong as you were. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“More importantly, what are you doing here?” Ellie asked, laying back down on the bench. “It’s way out of your way.”

“Looking for you. I get back early and hear you’re suffering headaches and can’t find you anywhere.” Joel snapped, pushing in your garden gate. “I told you I didn’t want you hanging around here.”

“She ain’t doing no harm.” You sighed, you hated to get involved but she was shrinking in on herself, away from his anger. “Every kid played hooky once.”

“I didn’t ask you. Last thing she needs is to be hanging around you. She’s a kid, no games to be played with her.” Joel snapped and you huffed a laugh.

“That’s right. I’m the only one who plays games.” You told him, pushing yourself to your feet. You winced, reaching for a crutch. “You know what you did. All the games I played was to prevent you doing that.”

“Oh yeah, the same games you played with damn near every man in this town, huh? I heard it all, Nolan and Abdul had a lot to say.” Joel scoffed, grabbing Ellie’s backpack and waving her forward. She looked between you both before shuffling towards him. “We all had it tough outside Jackson. You don’t gotta punish everyone for it.”

“Is that right? They told you all about me, huh? That’s a silly game for them to have played.” You leaned against your porch railing and grinned at Joel, wide. “Get off my property, Joel.”