#that you have no life and no home and nobody

[mrsknowitallll]

Nobody Else But You

Elias Moore (Stack) x Black Plus Size Reader

Summary - You’re done with Stack, for good this time… or so you thought.

Warnings - Fighting, cursing, i think that’s it?

A/N - Had to write something for Stack’s fine ass too. May or may not do a part two.

You stormed toward the club, fist clenched at your sides.

“Move cornbread.” You huffed staring up at the larger man.

“You know i can’t do that girl, last time you came up in here stirring up a whole bunch of trouble and we can’t have none of that tonight.” He stood his ground, crossing his arms.

“It’s gone be a whole lot more if you don’t get yo big ass out my way, move!” You shoved past him causing him to stumble.

“Where Stack at?” You questioned narrowing your eyes at Slim.

“He in the back with Smoke.” The older man held his hands up in surrender not wanting any issues with you.

You burst through the door causing Smoke to grip his pistol, easing up when he realizes it’s just you.

“Hey baby what you doing he-“ Stack’s words get caught in his throat as you slap him, his head whipping to the side dramatically.

“That bitch can have you!” You snatched off the necklace with his initials on it he had given you, throwing it in his face.

“What the hell you talking bout? What bitch?” He looked puzzled as he chased after you, following you down the road.

“The bitch that you fucked last week in the joint, right on top of the bar after hours? Yeah she told me all about it, how you told her you loved her, how you told her you was gone leave me and run away with her.” Tears began to spill down your fat cheeks, your lip quivering as you spoke.

“I don’t know what lying ass huzzy done got into yo head, made you believe all that bullshit but i ain’t fuck nobody last week in the joint, i ain’t been fucking nobody else but you!” He raised his voice slightly getting frustrated.

“Don’t lie to me Stack, I can put up with a whole lot but cheating THEN lying bout it? Oh yeah i’m done, like I said that BITCH can have you.” You spat marching down the road.

“Y/N! Y/N! GET YA ASS BACK HERE!” He screamed stomping his foot like a child.

You bit your lip, sobs wracking through your body, this was the last time he’d play with your heart.

You got up early the next morning, despite your heartache life goes on and you had shit to do.

You stopped by Bo Chow’s shop grabbing some supplies that you needed to patch up a hole in your roof.

Usually you’d have Stack do that but you no longer needed him, you’d do just fine on your own.

“On the house.” Bo waved a hand dismissively as you attempted to hand him cash.

“Nu uh Bo, take my money, i don’t want no handout.” You shook your head shoving the cash into his hand.

“You family, take that and get on up outta here girl.” He shoved the cash back into your hand closing it into a tight fist.

“Alright just this once, but next time don’t pull that shit again.” You grinned playfully.

His face broke out into a smile and he shooed you away, handling the next customer.

As you walked down the desolate road back towards your home a car pulled up beside you, a familiar voice calling out to you.

“Get in the car girl.” Stack commanded.

“I ain’t getting in a motherfucking thang, take yo ass on somewhere man.” You snarled.

“Y/n stop playing round and get yo ass in this car!” He growled slamming the door, marching over to you.

“Or what nigga?” You challenged.

You knew he’d never hit you, despite all the bullshit he loved you and he wouldn’t dream of laying a hand on you. You just liked to push his buttons, it was easy when he had such a short fuse.

“Or imma put yo ass in there.” His voice softened, tone teasing as he pulled you against him.

“I’ll slice ya ass with my blade before you even get the chance, try me.” You leaned into his face, eyes daring.

“You’d cut me?” He chuckled biting his lip.

“With no hesitation.” You smiled faintly.

“Get yo ass in this car and let me talk to you.” He sent a harsh slap to your ass causing heat to pool in your gut.

You finally obliged placing your things in the back seat.

“You know i ain’t been with nobody else since i’ve been back right?” He questioned as you passed him the hammer.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore Stack, i mean you’ve done it before.” You looked away from him, tears welling up in your eyes.

He paused looking down at you.

Hurt flashed across his face at your expression, he never ever wanted to make you feel that way again.

He stepped down from the ladder grabbing your forearms and pulling you flush against him.

“I was younger then, stupid as hell, wreck-less, foolish. I’m a man now and i realize that while i was finding temporary bliss in the little gemstones around me I was too blind to see that i had a diamond right in front of me.” He held your face gently, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss.

“And i didn’t fuck no bitch in the joint last week. Whoever told you that shit is a damn lie, they just tryna get me caught up, tryna come between us.” He placed his forehead against yours pecking you on the nose.

“I believe you baby, i’m sorry i let other people get in my head.” You sighed softly, eyes fluttering closed.

“It’s all good oh and one more thing.” He reached into his pocket pulling out the necklace that you threw at him the day before.

He placed it around your neck again, securing the clasp.

“I don’t wanna see it off of you no mo’, gotta let these niggas know who you belong to.” He spoke gruffly.

[cameronsbabydoll]

Scc! Rafe ever notice how depressed and lonely his wife is? Does he ever think how she is still a young woman who didn’t get enjoy her life bc he trapped her? She doesn’t have any friends, anywhere to go, nobody she can talk to etc does he ever try to do anything to make her happy and not feel so lonely? If he truly loves her, he wouldn’t want to her to regret marrying him, right?

yes — rafe notices.

he’s not oblivious to how sad and isolated his wife is.

he sees it in the way she moves around the house — quieter, smaller, less like the bright, soft girl he first locked down.

he notices how she hesitates when he asks for a kiss. how she never picks up the phone anymore because there’s no one to call. how she looks out the window too long, like she’s somewhere else in her head.

and it bothers him. deeply.

but he doesn't respond to it in a healthy or self-aware way.

instead of thinking:

"i hurt her. i took away too much. i need to let her breathe."

his brain twists it into:

"she’s unhappy because she doesn’t understand how good she has it."

"she's lonely because other people would hurt her, not like me."

"she just needs me to love her harder, keep her closer."

so even though he truly loves her, it’s a selfish, possessive kind of love — not a freeing love.

he doesn’t want her to regret being with him, no — but instead of fixing the real problem (her isolation), he tries to paper over it by spoiling her:

buying her expensive things

insisting they have more babies to "fill the house"

pulling her closer when she looks sad, like he is the cure

he doesn’t understand that he is the problem.

to answer the heart of your question:

does rafe ever try to make her happy?

yes — but only in ways that keep her tied to him.

he might plan a date night.

he might randomly take her on a trip — somewhere remote, somewhere only with him.

he might bring home a new car, or jewelry, or fancy clothes.

he might kiss her forehead and murmur:

"i'm gonna take care of you forever, baby. you don’t need anybody but me."

but he never really gives her back the things he stole — her freedom, her friendships, her right to a real life.

because if he gave her real freedom?

he's terrified she might realize she’s better off without him.

in short:

yes, he notices she’s lonely and sad.

yes, he cares — in his way.

no, he doesn't truly fix it — he tries to own her happiness, not heal her loneliness.

deep down, he’s scared that if she ever got a real taste of freedom again, she’d leave.

[janeyseymour]

Like Other Girls

summary: melissa schemmenti has always been told to be like the other girls. she isn't.

WC: ~4.15k

also, me, craving validation, so pls lmk what u think bc my brain is NOT chillin rn 🥺

Melissa Schemmenti has always been tough. She’s always had a fire in her eyes that yearned for more than what life was giving her. From the time she was young, the girl knew that she had to be tough to survive. That’s how it works when you grow up with more siblings than you can count. And to be a Schemmenti, you had to be tough. 

But then as she began to blossom from a little girl to a young woman, things changed. Nobody wanted her to be tough anymore. No, now, she was expected to change her entire personality to fit what society wanted her to be: a soft, mild, meek little lady. Time and time again, she would be berated for being loud and rambunctious or for not giving half a damn what she looked like at the time. 

“Can you be quiet for two minutes?”

“Why can’t you be like other girls- sweet, quiet, polite?”

“If you spent time putting effort into your looks the way you spend your time yapping, maybe you’d actually have a boyfriend.”

“Just… stop caring so much. It isn’t that big of a deal.”

Most of those words were spoken by people the redhead truly cared about- namely, her mother. 

Theresa Schemmenti was a hard woman to get into good graces with, and it was far harder to stay on her good side. And as a woman with so many children, if Melissa was in her mother’s top five at the end of the day, she would call it a win.

And growing up with someone so opinionated about her being, those words began to ring true for the girl turning into a young woman.

And then came along Joe- the man who she would ultimately end up marrying and divorcing. But between him, their marriage, and the then blonde’s mother, Melissa made herself far smaller than she had to be- smaller than she truly was. Gone was the boisterous and hardheaded little girl, and in came a quiet, never one to speak her mind, woman.

As his girlfriend and wife, Melissa’s life consisted of teaching second grade, coming home to cook (a chore she’s never minded), cleaning, and acting as the perfect trophy wife for Joe. Melissa lost sight of herself. She didn’t even just lose sight of herself, she became the one person she never thought she would be nor wanted to be. 

But once she broke her marriage off, Melissa Schemmenti vowed to herself that she would change. She would never make herself small for a man or anybody else again. Gone was the blonde hair that her mother and Joe nearly insisted on her having, and in came the red hair that she would become famous for. Melissa Schemmenti found that her brain still operated in the way that it always had- thoughts coming a mile a minute, smart comments popping into her head at any given moment. But now, instead of having to bite her tongue, she was free to say what was on her mind. And she absolutely adored it.

Those who worked with Melissa at the time were used to the blonde, shy, quiet woman. When she came in louder than they had ever seen or heard her with the red hair and larger than life personality that she had once buried, it was safe to say that they were shocked. It was an adjustment period for those who knew her, but they loved her all the same. Barbara Howard found that she thought she liked the more outgoing and stubborn version of Melissa Schemmenti more- another strong independent woman in a sea of women who rarely spoke their minds.

Years and years pass by, and eventually, it’s just the dynamic work wives who are still left from all those years ago- although Mr. Johnson is still employed with the school as well. Teachers have come and gone, and for the first time in years, the second grade and kindergarten teachers think that they may have a core group who might stick around for longer than a year. 

So when you finally come around and begin to work at Abbott, it’s safe to say that Melissa Schemmenti is back to where she was when she was younger- loud, brash, outspoken and tough. Or at least that’s what you think.

On the outside, the woman that you’ve fallen for is a hard ass. But as you peel away at her layers, you find that she’s as soft and as fluffy as a marshmallow. And then you start to date her. And you find that for as hard as she plays, she’s… a lot more insecure than you thought she might be.

—

The two of you are walking through historical Philadelphia as a date, and you’ve come to find out that your now girlfriend is quite the history buff- at least when it comes to her city. In actuality, it’s both of your city. You continue to let her ramble on with all of her little fun facts and tidbits about the place that has your heart despite the fact that you already know most of the things. You nod along with a smile as your intertwined hands swing in between the two of you. But then something strange happens. She’s in the middle of a sentence about the Liberty Bell when she suddenly goes quiet. You turn to her with furrowed brows.

“Babe?”

Your girlfriend’s cheeks tint red. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” you ask as you kiss her temple.

The nervous bite of the lip and shy shrug of the shoulders only have you more confused. “Just… I’m sorry I’m rambling. I know you already know most of this.”

“And?” you ask the redhead. “I love that you love our city so much. And I love hearing you talk about what you’re so passionate about.”

You see the look of confusion cross her face before she smiles at you in a way you’ve never seen- almost as if she’s nervous to be around you and speak like this.

“Keep going,” you encourage her. “I love hearing new facts about this city.” You refuse to tell her you already know everything she’s said.

With a bit of hesitation, she continues. You just continue to listen as intently as you can with a broad smile on your face.

It’s only later that you can tell something is still bothering her.

“Lis,” you sigh softly as you hold her that night in bed. “I can practically hear the gears turning in your head. What’s going on?”

Melissa turns to face you with a look that tells you you’re absolutely correct in that she’s thinking intently about something. “Nothin.”

You gently take her by the chin. “Babe, c’mon. I’m not dumb. I know something’s up.”

“Didn’t… didn’t you get annoyed when I wouldn’t stop talking today?”

You shake your head immediately. “No. I thought it was quite endearing, why?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs with a shrug of the shoulders. “I guess it’s just… I was always told to stay quiet as a teen and as a young adult… to be like other girls.”

“Well that’s not what I want,” you promise her quietly. “I want you- no one else.”

You can tell your girlfriend isn’t quite convinced, as she worries her lip between her teeth.

“Mel,” you force her to look you directly in the eye. “I don’t know what you were told growing up, but I don’t want the quiet woman. I want the woman who is who she is and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. The one who cares so much about what she loves and isn’t afraid to information dump on me. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. I don’t know who told you to make yourself smaller than you are, but that is not what I want. I want you, Melissa.”

Something in her mind clicks, and a relieved smile washes over her face. No longer are her brows furrowed in worry and confusion.

“You’re… amazing, you know that?” the redhead hums.

—

For the most part now, Melissa isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She freely spits out her thoughts on the things that she loves most. And it’s wonderful to see her comfortable around you.

But then budgeting issues come up, and she is far from soft spoken about it. The issues of women’s health care come to the light politically. Your girlfriend goes on tangent after tangent about it in the privacy of her house and your apartment. And then when you’re scrolling through social media one day, you see that there’s a march being organized on Broad Street. 

“Did you see this?” you turn your phone to face her.

Melissa hums as she reads. “That… that’s cool.”

You find it a bit odd that she doesn’t have more to say about it considering how passionate she is about women’s rights. But you let it slide.

The second grade teacher doesn’t bring it up again, although you do see her laptop the one day when she steps away to use the bathroom- a tab about the march.

Instead of confronting her about it, you simply smile and take a seat back on the couch. When she returns, you pull up an Instagram post about the march and approach the topic that way.

“Hun?”

“What’s up, mi amore?”

“How would you feel about going to the march with me?”

Melissa perks up immediately. “The women’s rights one?”

You nod with a smile on your face. “I think it would be good. And I know how passionate you are about it.”

When you expect your girlfriend to perk up even more and agree, she shrinks just slightly. You frown. “What?”

“I- I don’t wanna do it if you only are going to do it for me,” the redhead admits quietly as she plays with one of the rings on her finger.

You let out a soft sigh. “Baby, I want to go because I also believe in women’s rights. And I love that you are so passionate about this issue. If you weren’t, I might be a little concerned.”

You watch as those green eyes go from nervous to something you’ve only ever seen one other time- when Melissa was rambling about the history of Philadelphia. You know immediately that someone’s words, probably Theresa’s, are replaying in her head.

“Who said what?” you ask her softly as you wrap an arm around her.

Her head drops to your shoulder as she mutters out, “My ma always told me to stop caring so much… that it’s not that big of a deal about whatever I had big feelings about.”

You nearly feel your blood boil at that soft admission. You’ve yet to meet the opinionated woman, but there are some things that your girlfriend has told you about her mother that almost make you want to detest her.

“You’re allowed to care very strongly about things, especially issues as important as this one,” you promise her. “We’re going to this march, and we’re going to make our voices as loud as possible.”

Melissa only nods.

The two of you do end up going, with a few of your friends from work, adorned with big signs. Being in that crowd of women and those who also believe in women’s rights like that makes the two of you feel more empowered than you’ve ever felt. There’s something special in the air that day as the two of you make your voices heard loud and clear.

—

You knew the day would come that you would have to meet Theresa Schemmenti, but what you weren’t expecting was for your girlfriend to be far more nervous for you to meet her than yourself.

Melissa is up and out of bed far earlier than you expected. Actually, when you wake up, she’s already showered and standing in her towel in front of the closet trying to figure out an outfit to wear.

This is a far cry from what usually occurs on a lazy Sunday morning. Usually, you wake up in her arms and spend a much longer amount of time lounging in bed than you probably should.

“Honey?” you yawn out. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Getting ready for dinner with Ma,” she tells you.

“Lis, it’s… eight in the morning. We don’t have to be at her house until three.”

The redhead turns to face you, and she has that look again that tells you she’s about to tell you something her mom said that stuck with her.

“What did she tell you?” you ask knowingly.

“If I spent time putting effort into my looks the way I spend my time yapping, maybe I’d actually have a boyfriend,” Melissa relays quietly.

With a heavy sigh, you push the warm blankets off of you and go to wrap your arms around your girlfriend. You kiss her softly. “You are stunning no matter what. And… you don’t need a boyfriend when you have a girlfriend who loves you exactly the way that you are.”

She just looks into your eyes, searching for any hints of ingenuity.

“Melissa,” you mumble as you kiss her temple. “I love you for you. Every single bit of you.” You kiss her cheek, then her jawline, and you slowly make your way down until you reach the hem of the towel still wrapped around her.

It’s safe to say that your girlfriend doesn’t get dressed any time soon after your affirming words. But then you know that the two of you really do have to start getting ready… Melissa needs another shower after the morning that the two of you had.

Because of the time that you spent this morning back in bed… and then in the shower, your girlfriend doesn’t have the time to curl her hair the way that she was hoping to. It’s not that you care- her hair is stunning no matter how she wears it. And the shirt that she was hoping to wear over is dirty and has a stain on it from the other day in the classroom- she’s pissed.

“Baby,” you sigh as you kiss the slope of her neck softly. “You look beautiful no matter what. And besides, it’s just your mother.”

“That’s the problem,” Melissa huffs as she tries to find another shirt to wear. “It’s my mother, and she’s already going to have something to say about my hair and the few new wrinkles I have around my eyes… the less ammunition I can give her the better.”

You nod against her shoulder. “Okay, honey. But just… know that I love you for who you are- not for the way your hair is or the things you wear.”

“I know,” the redhead sighs quietly, and she does reach one hand back to affectionately pat the top of your head. “Thank you.”

“I’ll go downstairs and give you some time to get yourself ready, okay?” Melissa nods, you peck her cheek, and then you head downstairs and pray to God that Theresa doesn’t say anything to your girlfriend that will have you fighting like a Schemmenti. 

The drive there is quiet. You can tell that it’s taking everything in the woman next to you to not turn the car back around and opt for a nice night on the couch with you. You hold her hand and squeeze it gently every so often so that she knows you’re here for her. You aren’t going anywhere. 

Still when you pull into the driveway, you can practically feel the nerves radiating off of your girlfriend. With a few deep breaths, Melissa gets out of the car and leads you to the front door.

“It’s about time you got here,” Theresa greets the two of you brusquely. 

“I had to finish getting ready, Ma,” your girlfriend rolls her eyes as she hugs her mother and plants a quick kiss to her cheek.

“And you still couldn’t make your hair look presentable,” the matriarch of the family sighs heavily at the straight hair the second grade teacher is sporting. Then her eyes turn to you. “You must be the girlfriend.”

“Ma,” Melissa says in a warning tone.

“I thought you were fake when Melly didn’t bring you around until now,” Theresa states as she looks you up and down. “You clean up well, dear.”

“Thank you,” you blush slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” It’s… not necessarily a pleasure though. Based on how she greeted your girlfriend, you can’t say that she’s making a great first impression. 

The two of you are ushered in and greeted with a few bottles of wine already set out. Your girlfriend pours you a glass of white before pouring herself a glass of red.

“Still with the red wine, Melissa?” Theresa raises a brow.

You see the redhead fight the urge to roll her eyes. “You know white gives me a headache almost instantly, Ma.”

Dinner is set out on the table and as the three of you eat, topics are kept generally light. And then Theresa asks what the two of you have been up to.

“Still just teaching, Ma,” your girlfriend sighs. “Both of us are.”

“I still can’t believe you became a teacher.”

“Why don’t you give Kristen Marie shit for becoming a teacher?” Melissa asks, and you can tell this is an argument they’ve had before.

“Because when you took the job at Abbott, a poorly funded school, I figured it was a way to gain experience. But you’re still there while Kristen Marie is at that fabulous new charter school.”

“I- I also work at Abbott,” you cut in softly. “And Melissa is one of the best teachers we have there. She’s a vital part of the school and making sure that it stays afloat.”

“And how did you end up there, dear?” Theresa asks you with a lifted brow.

You smile. “I’ve always done better with the kids who need some extra love. Abbott is like home to me.”

The matriarch of the family gives you an impressed look. “That’s wonderful dear. Abbott is lucky to have you.”

You essentially had just given Melissa’s mother the same reasoning to work at Abbott as her daughter, and yet she approves of your choice? What the hell?

“Don’t you think Melly could’ve done better for herself though?”

“I think she’s done perfectly well for herself,” you state in a tone that is soft yet still leaves no room for argument.

Theresa hums in thought but doesn’t press any further on that issue. “And what else have the two of you been up to?”

Knowing that you may just stir the pot with this topic, you smile broadly. “We’ve been going to women’s rights movement marches when we can find them. I find that it’s extremely important for women like us to be using our voices to show that we care about such vital issues in our country at this point in time. And I love that my girlfriend is just as passionate about these issues that I am.”

“You would be right,” Theresa tells you through almost gritted teeth. “Although I do remember telling Melissa that those issues would be taken care of without the protests… that it wouldn’t much matter.”

“And they still haven’t been ‘taken care of’, Ma,” the redhead grumbles. “And they very do much matter. They won’t just affect me an’ Y/N, but our students as they grow. It’s important to show them that they have a voice and that it matters.”

The mother hums slowly. “I suppose you were just ahead of your time.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Melissa counters.

Theresa just shrugs.

Conversation comes to a bit of a lull after that, and you turn the topic back around to Theresa and her interests.

Somehow, it turns into fashion. And she’s offering Melissa to take a look at some of the jewelry that she owns but doesn’t wear much anymore.

“I figured I’d offer since you don’t seem to have much to wear other than those same three necklaces and the two rings.”

“I quite like how she looks everyday,” you defend your girlfriend. “She always looks gorgeous.”

“Still,” Theresa sighs heavily as she pushes herself away from the table. “Come take a look with me, Melly.”

Your girlfriend glances to you, and you nod with a smile, already standing to begin clearing off the table.

You’re in the middle of drying the dishes when the two of them make their way back down. Melissa has quite a few different accessories that she’s brought down, although she doesn’t look thrilled in the slightest. 

“Well,” Theresa prompts. “Show your girlfriend the different jewelry.”

The redhead just holds them up, looking less than enthused.

“Put them on, dear!” the matriarch grins. “Show her how pretty you can look when you’re quiet and dressed nicely.”

You can feel your own blood boil at the incessant need for Theresa to quiet Melissa. You look to her with nearly murderous eyes. 

“You know, I actually love Melissa just the way she is,” you cut in with fire. “I like the way that she’s smart and loud and outspoken and cares about things that are important. I love the way that she dresses and how she wants and styles herself the way that she wants. I think she’s perfect, just the way she is.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re just saying that.”

“I can assure you, Theresa,” you practically spit out. “I am not just saying that. I wish you would accept your daughter for who she is, because who she is is nothing short of a dream to me.”

With that, you drop the dish towel that you had previously been holding and make your way to your bag. You sling your bag over your shoulder before grabbing your girlfriend’s and taking her hand in your own. “I think perhaps it’s time that we head out for the night.”

Melissa begins to lead you out of the house before she drops your hand and whips around to face her mother once more. She sets the jewelry on the table and stares at her mother, a look of heartbreak and fury present. 

“Is it so horrific to you that someone might love me for who I really am?” Melissa asks her mother in a desperate tone. “Is it so awful that someone might like me for me, instead of this person that you so desperately wish I would be?” You hear her voice crack on the last word. 

Theresa flounders for words, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she tries to get her words out. When she finally does speak, Melissa simply holds up a hand.

“If you can’t find the words immediately to apologize, I don’t want to hear what you have to say,” your girlfriend sighs softly. She picks your hand back up and attempts to lead you out of the house once again, but you have to say something- anything to let Theresa know that you girlfriend is just what you want her to be.

“You know,” you say quietly. “When I was growing up, I never imagined myself getting together with someone that you so desperately want Melissa to be. I saw myself dating a strong woman- someone who could hold their own. Someone who wasn’t afraid to be themself and could own that. Your daughter… she’s everything I could have ever wanted. She cares so much, and so freely. She stands for all of the things that I do, and is somehow even more passionate than I am on those issues. She’s drop dead gorgeous no matter if she’s dressed to the nines to go to an event for the district or if we’re simply lounging on the couch in our sweatpants. I- I wouldn’t change her for anything.”

With that, you exit the house. And when the two of you do, the walk to the car is silent. The silence is only broken once you’ve pulled out of the driveway and have driven down the street. She sniffles, and your heart breaks. In one swift motion, you pull the car over and put it in park before looking over to her. Her green eyes somehow both shine and dull simultaneously, at it absolutely shatters you. You simply gather her in your arms the best you can given the arm rest is in your way. She just pushes you away gently, but she keeps her fingers intertwined with your own. Melissa gestures for you to continue driving, and so you pull away and in the direction of her house.

The only words she says to you as she unbuckles her seatbelt are, “Come in. Stay.”

And you can only oblige that simple request after what she’s been through tonight.

tags: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits 

[heechwe]

Congrats on 3k!!! I was wondering if u could do jake + #17 (maybe after coachella 👀) ty!!!

tysm babe! i can't believe it myself haha 🩵

𐔌 𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐨𝐧 𝑱𝑨𝑲𝑬 + 𝑹𝑬𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑺𝑬𝑿 𐦯 — truly i don't think jake expects you to be waiting backstage for him after the set for weekend one. he knew you would watch wherever you were, whether at home or with your mutual friends to share in the excitement, happy to cheer him on from a world away as jake was enjoying probably one of the best nights of his life. but, when he sees you waiting just off of the stage with a VIP pass and tons of merch to show your support, he loses it. you're here, you're real, and he's been missing you so much since he's been gone, he can't contain himself. you remind jake as he rushes you to a secluded room that it's only been two weeks, but it could've been two hours for all he knew. jake's missed you so much, and he's going to prove just how much.

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝟑𝐊 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓

𐔌 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𐦯 જ⁀➴ 𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒊-𝒑𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒄 𝒔𝒆𝒙, 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒙, 𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌, 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚, 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒙, 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒆

"You drive me crazy. I can't believe you're really here," Jake whispers as he tugs your denim shorts down. He has to remind himself he checked the lock twice before he walked back over to you. Nobody knows you're in this room together except for the other guys. They could tell the green room would be occupied as soon as Jake yanked you toward the talent's building a way's away from the Sahara stage.

He can hear the guys now, ready to admonish him the second the two of you are done and greeting them with post-sex glows. It's Coachella, J, we get it but we need to be celebrating out there!

Fuck them, honestly. Texts, calls, and videos couldn't and wouldn't compare to the real thing, and Jake could only hold his composure for so long. And Jake having you, his girlfriend, in his arms is worth a dozen shows in his mind.

You drink him in as he kisses down the length of your jaw and neck, the denim attire incredibly attractive on him both during his performing and as he's standing in front of you. "My cowboy," you comment under your breath as he shucks his denim jacket off and throws it to the side.

"Wanna take a ride, miss?" Jake asks with a glint of mischief as he pulls you down to the floor. He slots you on top of him so you're straddling him, and he looks so peaceful against the carpet as he tugs your underwear to the side. Your naked core rubs against his denim jeans with just the right amount of friction that makes you moan.

You tug at the zipper and lower his jeans just enough for his dick to spring free, and he groans when you take his cock into your palm and spit directly onto the head. You stroke in small increments, just enough to get the two of you prepared for the real thing.

"Don't tease me, babe, fuck," he tries to buck up into your touch, but he's completely at your mercy with your weight on top of him. You pout sarcastically before running his dick along your slit.

You sick down onto him completely, a tattered whimper on your tongue. You ride him slowly, the carpet underneath the two of you already causing friction burns to your knees. But who cares? It's too good to stop now. "Fuck, babe," you curse as you increase your pace.

He lifts your shirt and bra so he can take your breasts in his hands, rolling your nipples between his fingers as you continue moving against him. "I missed you so much."

You grin, eyes rolling back from pleasure. "Missed you too, baby. So fucking much."

"Such a dirty mouth," he comments as he runs a hand up to your throat, cinching his thumbs against your pulse point to make you see stars. "Maybe you shouldn't be talking at all, my love. Just keep riding me like a good girl, yeah?"

The thread of your dignity snaps completely when Jake presses his hand tighter against your throat and his other set of fingers flick at your clit. His own is no better once he feels your cunt flutter around him as you come. His body is completely at your mercy when he spills inside of you, and even more so when he watches semblances of his seed drip out of you and onto his jeans. You're both normally so composed, even with high sex drives, but distance really did seem to make the heart grow fonder.

And when he nuzzles you into the carpet and wraps his entire body around you, it's easy to ignore the battering of Jay's fist against the door a few moments later, begging the two of you to put your clothes back on and join them in watching the next set of performers.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @yvnempire @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @dawngyu

[sangunary]

Yandere BatFam x other dimension Reader.

SYPNOSIS: In another world they did love you.

IMP: Reader did get neglected in her dimension.

You've never been a figure or anything important, not something worth the light. Even in picture everybody looked so good and you're just there, even just from a glance it's hard to notice you.

You've tried to shine to take that light everybody else have in their grip but the light was purposefully avoiding you.

No amount of grade, beauty or perfection would make you their baby. Someone they cared for.

You weren't some star like them just the black sheep, everybody else have a life they can call theirs but your life was already written out for you, every possible things already carved out by everyone else but yourself.

Unlike Dick you weren't charming or good looking everything about him was amazing and admirable... The first Robin and the first to become their own person. Not even Bruce get to curve his story...

He treat his siblings equally, that was what he preached... It was true. You weren't a family to him, you didn't matter enough to be apart of his family.

Even when Jason decided to started killing you stayed by his side, brought him food and even tried to build an actual relationship but it was no use.

Everybody called you desperate for crawling to him when he needed somebody and the moment he healed(kind of) he throw you away. Ignoring how you were the only one who stood up for him, took all the insult and humiliation for his sake yet he took you for granted.

You took the word, hit and almost got disowned, for somebody who doesn't even care. You almost died for somebody you thought was your brother yet he didn't do shit when the family almost disowned you for staying by his side... Didn't offer home or solace. Just ignored your suffering for his sake.

Tim was smart everything you adore in a brother, stayed by his side spent sleepless nights just to watch over him when he was in the hospital, trying your best to support your brother who you fear might die.

Yes, everyone didn't get enough sleep but you didn't even sleep stayed by his side to make sure no harm could happened to him. Took your time to read book's knowing he can't even hear you, doing everything.

Yet when he opened his eyes he hugged the family and not you, even have the audacity to ask you to go out while they had some 'family' catch up...

Damian was one hell of a monster, yet you never gave up on him. He was just a kid and you wanted to be the admirable older siblings you never had.

It wasn't easy it never was, the constant lie about you to everyone and yes nobody in this world pity you enough to hear your side... Yout life was already hell and it wad just unfair how everybody else got what they wished for and you never get anything... Not even a family.

To the eyes of the media you were the black sheep often left out even in family portraits or any major Wayne gala, just some avarage citizen that was living the life...

Bruce couldn't remember your name's at times blaming it on old age, Alfred only saw you as an extra mouth nothing more nothing less.

Even when The joker kidnapped you and made Bruce choose between you and Catwoman he almost hesitate, you were never the first or second, you weren't an option to everybody... Just some extras living with them to make them look better.

Being you was painful itself, when your family who were supposed to be the hero rejected your presence.

So, when you accidentally step into another dimension you became attached.

Your false family loved you to no ends, you were dead in that universe... Dying a gruesome death.

Yet when they saw you alive even tho you weren't their family they cherished you and most importantly treat you like a family.

There was no more I no more threats just a loving family.

Who will do whatever to make you stay.

"I like this" You told them, you couldn't help but smile.

You've never played games with your actual family before, to them you were an actual bot with nothing interesting.

"Oh, you won't like it for long... I'll beat you"

Tim said as he aggressively nudge at you to make you lose control.

"Hey! That's cheating, someone take him out!"

Barbara stood up for you.

"Everything is fair in games... As long as you're the winner"

Damian speak up as he instinctively grab Tim hoodie and cover his eyes with it. To let you win.

"That's cheating! I should have won"

"Everything is fair in games... Just gotta have the right support"

You couldn't help it, everybody were together. You were finally in the picture, you didn't have to fit in they just have to accept you and they absolutely did.

You couldn't help but tear up, your heart aching slightly.

"Little wing are you okay? Should w-"

Dick spoke before he was cut off by Damian.

"Let's beat up Tim, he made them cry"

"Huh?! Im the one that lost... Your violence towards me make them scared!"

Before anyone else could argue on who made you cry Jason who was just there because of you spoke up.

"Don't be so obnoxious and loud... They're obviously emotional for a good reason. Bunch of wannabe adult in this room"

With that said he would gave you this handkerchief which was very unusual of him.

Taking a seat next to you on the ground as he pick up the extra controller, not even weirded out by your suddenly burst of tears just pure understanding.

Your Jason was the one who kick you aside the moment he felt healed but this one... He was trying his best to comfort you, he didn't like to be so upfront yet he was doing this to save you from embarassment and a little comfort.

Looking at the Handkerchief you couldn't help but smile, the same one you gave to your Jason when he came back but the one you made was burned into crispy by the very person you made for. He took it and throw it inside the crumbling building that was ignited into flames by him.

Called it a waste of fabric and time, not worth his precious time or life even tho you spend weeks stitching everything by hand... You just wanted to encourage him to be better you didn't knew he would take offence to your kindness.

There was some holes on the handkerchief yet it was extremely clean and ironed... He seems to cherish it alot.

"Took it everywhere and I ruined it, it was my lucky charm but you're here now so you'll be a good replacement"

"I don't think being compared to a literal fabric is fulfilling"

Duke commented.

"It's not just a fabric it's made by our beloved sibling here, shame on you Duke, shame on you"

Stephanie tease him with a fake offended look.

"They only made it for Jaybird... Im abit upse- Very upset"

Dick decided to bring another reason to start a full on war again.

"Hey! I want one but with our special logo!"

"This is childish, but I need one for a good purpose"

"Im the oldest so I should be first"

"Want one"

"Enough!"

Bruce spoke up, seems like all the arguing had finally went into his brain.

"As your Father... I am first priority"

"Master Bruce, as your somewhat father I must be the first I insist"

This was what family should be, united and happy. One that are willing to be by yourside even at your worst, willing to take the hit with you and just be ourselves to eachother without shame.

While you were finally getting the life you deserved your actual family were crumbling. Trying to find you, turning every nook and crook up side down.

Gotham was turning into literal hell, they were acting like dog hound pounding onto anyone who they assume have information on your whereabouts.

It seems like they have finally realised your worth. But you've already replaced them.

You were slowly healing but too bad they won't tolerate being replaced.

Watch me flop.

[harringtonfeels]

touch

18+ • 2.8k • Friends to ???? to Lovers with inexperienced Reader

Notes: This is about half fluff, half smut, with a liiiiittle bit of angst. There is some discussion of the right to revoke consent regarding a past boyfriend of Reader's toward the beginning. Nothing bad happens to Reader, aside from confusion about expectations for female sexuality. If this would be triggering for you, please don't read.

"Wait, hold on a second." Steve sounds so perplexed that you have to look up from the book in your hands and glance around the room, as though someone else may have walked in and changed the tenor of the conversation. All you'd said was— "You've never had sex?"

You blink back at him, surprised by his surprise. Cheeks burning, you say, "Well, I mean…" Closing the book with a dense thump, you force yourself to make eye contact. "You don't have to say it like that. And it's not like nobody's ever, like, offered."

When he cocks his head slightly to the side, his hair falls slightly in that very Steve sort of way. "What about Mark?" You can't help the way a shiver runs down your spine at the mention. The intrigue is practically spilling out of him at this point, as he turns over onto his side and props himself up on his elbow, settling into the conversation. "I thought you said you were going to sleep with him. That night with the big, fancy date and the—"

"You mean right before I avoided him for three days and then broke up with him?" How had Steve not gotten the memo on that one?

You watch him connect the dots in real time, but he still seems a little confused. "Okay, then Rick. You dated Rick for a long time."

That forces a laugh out of you. "Yeah, when we were like thirteen, Steve. Come on."

"Jeff?"

"I couldn't even get Jeff to answer my phone calls, let alone have sex with me. Can we stop the rundown of my abysmal love life?" you say, trying to remain lighthearted but feeling your own mood sour with each passing moment. What started as incredulousness at Steve's reaction is beginning to turn into something like shame.

A beat later, Steve asks, "Did something happen with Mark?"

You know what he's asking, and your cheeks burn even hotter with embarrassment. "No, nothing like that."

"I thought you liked him."

"I did. And then I didn't. It was just… He just…" You drop your forgotten book onto Steve's bed and bury your face in your hands. "He was just very pushy, I guess. Like, as soon as he realized I was willing to have sex with him, he just wanted to get right to it. I didn't really feel like he was listening to me."

Steve's hand curls itself gently around your wrist, prying your hand from your face, and his voice takes on a slight edge. "What do you mean, 'he wasn't listening to you'?"

"Not like that." It's so hard to find a way to put it into words. You aren't entirely sure Mark even did anything wrong. It's more that he didn't do anything right. You steel yourself and look up at Steve, your longtime best friend who recently became something more, and you know he'll wait as long as you need him to, until you find the words to say. Steve has always had such patience with you, your whole lives. Somehow, that makes it feel even more urgent.

Finally, you inhale deeply and summon the courage to continue. "It wasn't like he tried to make me do anything, really. He was just kind of… inconsiderate. It felt more like he was excited to be having sex than that he was excited to be having sex with me."

Steve rubs soothing circles into your wrist and presses a soft kiss to the palm of your hand. "So you told him to fuck off?"

That draws a laugh out of you. "Yes, basically. I was really confused about how I was feeling, so I told him I didn't think I was ready, and then he acted like he was mad at me the whole way home. So I broke up with him."

He looks a bit lost in thought, and you wonder what he's thinking about. If he's rethinking your relationship, if this makes him see you differently.

He props himself up against the headboard and pulls you close, tucking you into his side. "Baby, you know that's not how it's supposed to be, don't you?"

You want to say yes, but deep down, you're not really sure. What if you're just high maintenance? What if that's the way it always is, and it's true that sex isn't really supposed to be enjoyable for women, and maybe Mark was right to be upset with you for putting an end to things? What if once you'd already said yes, you weren't really allowed to say no? What if what you want isn't supposed to matter at all?

Realistically, you feel like this can't be the case. Why should sex only be good for one person? Why should you not be able to decide when and where and how you have sex, for the first time or for any time? Why should anyone else's feelings matter more than your own? But it's hard to reconcile your feelings of self-preservation with the things you've been told your whole life, or the look on Mark's face when you told him you wanted to go home.

Knowing something is true doesn't make it feel that way.

You bury your face in Steve's shoulder and nod anyway. Of all the ups and downs in the years you've spent with Steve, one thing he's always made you feel was safe.

His fingertips brush against your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and you smile into his shirt at the way it tickles. Reflexively, you lift your leg a little higher, running away from the feeling. "I'd never want to make you feel that way, honey. You know you could tell me if I did, right?"

You flush at the insinuation. Steve wants to have sex with you. And he wants you to enjoy it. It's still hard to wrap your mind around it, this newfound whatever-this-is, the boundariless relationship status that started with a kiss and ends with… you're not sure what, exactly.

But you know Steve. Whatever this is between you, you can't imagine Steve Harrington would ever treat you like an object, or a means to an end. "I know," you say softly, breath hitching in your throat as his palm slides beneath your dress.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs into your hair.

Your stomach flutters with anticipation, and you nod.

His touch is so gentle, it's almost maddening. It's already so different from how Mark touched you, slow and thoughtful instead of rough and hurried. For the first time, you think you might really understand the meaning of the word sensual.

When his palm leaves your skin, you sigh with disappointment, but just as quickly, he's tipping your chin upward, looking into your eyes with his honey brown ones. "Can I kiss you?"

Suddenly, there's a lot you want to tell him. Words that threaten to spill out of you without cohesion or any defined purpose. But this moment is so perfect you don't dare tarnish it. You lean into it instead. Breath stuttering, you nod again, and you sit up just enough to see him better, to reach him better.

His lips are soft against yours, hand gently cupping your cheek, and it's excruciatingly slow at first, until you clench the front of his tee shirt in your fist and urgently draw him closer. He shifts, slotting one knee between your thighs and deepening the kiss as he does.

Steve has kissed you a few times now, and each time, it's like learning a different version of him. Drunk, confident Steve the first time. Sticky-sweet, adoring Steve the second. Soft, horny Steve today. You can feel the hard outline of him pressed against your thigh. A few minutes ago, this might have been jarring or even somewhat alarming, but not now. With your skirt rucked up almost to your waist, you can't help but sigh into his mouth and roll your hips against his.

He pulls away just enough to murmur, "Oh, honey."

You whimper in response, feeling your way under the hem of his shirt. You've never touched him like this. You don't know when the lines blurred so much that your best friend Steve has become someone whose sides you can caress, whose mouth you can feel on your neck— "Oh my god."

His lips brush against your skin. "Can I tell you how I'd touch you?"

Your brain struggles to piece together what he's asking, which is a testament more to how focused you are on how you feel than the complexity of his question. Swallowing thickly, you nod again.

"Come on, baby, use your words. I need to know you mean it."

You dig your nails lightly into his back at that, pouting. "Steve, please."

He's got you flat on your back now, grinding his hips absentmindedly against yours. You can feel him smile against your collarbone, fingers splayed across your ribs as his thumb ghosts across the underwire of your bra. "If you let me touch you, I'd start real slow," he whispers. "Get you nice and comfortable for me, start somewhere safe, like here." His hand cups the outside of your thigh, making leisurely circles with his thumb.

It's a clear retreat from before, less suggestive, and yet you feel your pulse pick up with anticipation. Mouth falling open just slightly, you watch his face as he continues. You've never seen him like this before, focused but glassy-eyed, lips swollen.

When you focus on his hands like this, it's hard to think that it was ever outside the bounds of your relationship for him to touch you like this. All those times watching him shift gears, watching the way his big hands wrap around his baseball bat at practices. Eyes lingering on his long fingers just a little longer than strictly necessary. It feels natural, now that you see his hands on you in real time.

You're sucked back into the present when Steve opens his mouth. "And when you're feeling really comfortable, I'd make my way a little higher." He punctuates this statement by bending your leg at the knee, hand slowly lowering beneath your dress once more.

You let out a whimper as his fingertips graze the edge of your light pink panties, drunk on the suggestion alone, and you weave your fingers through his hair to steady yourself.

It's not like you've never made out with anyone before. You've had boyfriends, you've been on successful dates with passionate kisses that left you winded on your doorstep. But it's never been anything like this, not that you can remember. Every time you made it even to second base with someone before, they were just… demanding or selfish or, once, even actually insulted your body. Some guys didn't work out because they moved away for college, or got back together with their ex, or because you didn't like them that much, or they just weren't a very good kisser. You told yourself when you were dating Mark that, if a lackluster makeout session was the worst of it, you could handle that. You hadn't known at the time that it was possible you wouldn't have to make any concessions.

Steve swipes his thumb across your lower lip, eyes darkening with desire. Teasing the wasitband of your panties with more intention, he leans back in to press a kiss just above the neckline of your dress. He hesitates slightly, and you hang on his every movement like it's a lifeline. When he speaks again, his eyes meet yours. His hair is wild from your fingers running through it, and he looks just as feverish as you feel.

You can't help but watch his mouth when he speaks, as if you don't already know what it feels like on your skin. "And if you liked that," he says, "then I'd turn my attention somewhere else. The trick—" His free hand brushes along your ribcage, dangerously close to your breast. "—is to keep my hands busy, and keep your imagination busy, too."

If you were ever under any illusion that you weren't turned on before, the slick gathering between your thighs makes it quite clear. The late summer breeze rolling through the window is cool on your skin. If it weren't for that, you'd be burning up under the heat of him. As it is, you can barely breathe, but you're not sure that's from the temperature.

His hands move confidently but not impulsively. He skims across the side of your breast with his palm, and you arch into his touch, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Removing his hand from your waistband, he pulls you up into a sitting position and finds the zipper of your dress. He starts to unzip you, then stops abruptly, raising his eyebrows in question. When you nod in response, he leans in for another searing kiss and finishes the job.

You only notice he's run into some difficulty unclasping your bra because he laughs after the third try, and you can't help but smile as you reach around to unclasp it yourself. And then his hands are on your skin again, palming one of your breasts and burying his face in your neck.

When he brushes his thumb over your nipple, you gasp, and he grins against your skin, carefully laying you back down on the mattress. "Does that feel good, honey?"

"Mm-hmm," you whimper, not caring how needy you sound. "Please don't stop."

"'M not stopping, baby," he murmurs, "unless you ask me to."

Steve is nothing if not good at building suspense, you're learning. He circles your nipple with his thumb, then backs off, sliding his free hand back down the front of your dress and toward the front of your panties. While you're distracted by that, stomach clenching in anticipation, he pinches your nipple gently, rolling it between his thumb and finger.

You can't help but gasp in response, overstimulated in the best way.

"And when you're nice and relaxed and ready for me…" He uses one finger to lift the waistband of your panties up just high enough to fit his hand inside. Your thighs fall open at the movement of their own accord, and you tug at his hair, hips lifting slightly to chase his touch.

Steve stills completely, mouth parting like he can't believe it. As if he himself didn't honestly think this little lesson would be so effective. Sounding a little distant, he looks into your eyes and whispers, "That's when I'd touch you."

You stare back at him, the spell broken. You had almost forgotten there was something he was getting at, other than just showing you what you were missing. It's a little dizzying, seeing how far you've gotten on a flirty line, an ambiguous relationship status, and a suspension of disbelief.

Didn't he just say he wasn't going to stop?

"Steve?" you prompt him, voice uncharacteristically small, as if speaking too loudly will make this moment disappear.

He blinks back at you, re-engaging. "Can I touch you, honey?"

Biting your lip, you nod, and a slow, easy grin spreads across his face.

He finds your free hand and kisses your knuckles before slipping his hand just a little bit lower, fingertips just dipping into your slick folds. "Oh, sweetheart," he hums, "you're s' wet for me." When the pad of his middle finger brushes your clit, your hips buck against his hand with urgency. "We've made a mess of your pretty panties, honey. We're gonna have to take these off."

You raise your hips up off the bed without further prompting. You don't have it in you to feel embarrassed, or to worry about what you're going to wear back home. You just let Steve remove them, and when he's done, you paw at the hem of his shirt, asking permission silently. He rolls his shoulders and helps you pull it over his head, tossing it haphazardly onto the floor.

And when he leans back in, you marvel at all the parts of him you get to touch now, the things you get to do that you never could before. The things you've thought about a million times when you really shouldn't have. During school night sleepovers, summer afternoons by his family's pool, at the department store when you both tried on outfits for prom. All those parts of him you've craved, the things you never thought you'd get to feel.

The words tumble out before you can stop them. I love you.

And sure, it's embarrassing. There's a lot of stuff about tonight that's embarrassing, but it doesn't matter. Because even if he doesn't—

Before your cheeks have even had time to warm up, Steve is climbing up your body, eyes wide with something like wonder, and he's cradling your face in his hands. He kisses you slow and firm, like it's the first time, or even the last. He kisses you until you're both breathless, and then he leans his forehead against yours, both of you panting and giggling a little at the absurdity of it all.

And then Steve whispers, "I love you, too."

[jinuaei]

with the famous reader and tarn writing literal ff, I can't help but imagine the reader stumbling across it😭😭 either when he's actively writing it or finding it later in his files or something. oh yeah also imagining reader just siccing Tarn on some poor bot and being like "Get Em." and letting go of the lease. i just find these ideas funny lol

Imagine you are like live streaming for fun and one of the commenters was like, 'read this fanfic written by this author!' and it's an x reader written by TARN of all people. And you see that how they write you is weirdly accurate down to the minute details of something that happened that only you and Tarn knows about. By that time you are already suspicious, suspecting Tarn as the author, but you don't tell the viewers until you are sure of it.

Then the time comes when perhaps in one of your photoshoot you can see him write on his datapad, focused on whatever he's doing. You sneak up behind him and find him writing a new chapter on his fic (that he promised to post for his fans, yes you did stalk his account). At that point he can't deny it and just bows his head in embarrassment and shame, not because he wrote the fanfic, but because you found out.

Poor baby, unless you actively express that you actually like his writing and give him permission to continue with his work, he will nuke the whole account! Of course, he'd save his works, but he wouldn't stop writing. Additionally, he would make a new account every time you found out.

But it would also be funnier that he'd become like an underworld smuggler of his fics, fans can only have access if they are trusted enough that they wouldn't expose him. Nobody knows what account the fic originally came from because it's only shared through dms and those who do post it in public has to credit 'purple guy', not his account, not any account, just the words 'purple guy'.

And Bodyguard! Tarn is so lovable to me, adding it to Puppy Tarn and you get Scary dog privilege.

Someone being an asshole to you? One glare from him and that asshole will piss themselves. Out on a party and you need someone to protect your drink as you go pee? He'd wait outside the bathroom and protect your drink with his life. Hell, you'd just even tell him you don't want to be in this party, or event or whatever and he'd pick you up and carry you home (Your shippers especially love this one)

...Tarn wearing his collar and leash on a red carpet event RARARARARARARARARARRA You pulling on it when he starts glaring at people congratulating you or whatever STOP AAAAAAAA

And I agree with siccing him on some, even if you do it just for shits and giggles he'd actually follow your command. RIP to the bot who you chose to torment, they won't die (probably) but they will have nightmares about Tarn FNAF jumpscaring them.

[ramp-it-up]

Muse: Three

Muse: Two | Muse Masterlist | Muse: Four

Summary: Three's the Charm. Or the Curse.

Pairing: Art Curator! Ari Levinson x Plus sized model! Reader

Word count: 3.8 K

A/N: Muse will be a series of one shots featuring Muse and Ari, and this the second one. We’re gonna hear from them at least every week. 😏 Big thanks to @princessphilly who basically inspired the premise and then endured me being feral in her inbox. This AU is tangential to the Peach and Knock You Down verses. Here I go again. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Angst and Toxicity. Art Curator Ari. Plus sized model Reader, dating app life, casual sex, toxic situationship, 2 am calls, phone sex, late night texts, 4 am confessions, mean reader, oral (m receiving) rough sex, implied impact play, some guy named Steve ;), masturbation and daydreaming, feelings are flying around, but no one is trying to catch them.

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

The third time wasn’t planned either.

You’d been at a rooftop party in Tribeca, his neighborhood, sipping tequila from someone else’s glass and pretending the skyline made you feel something.  You'd been in Europe for 10 days, all work and no play (well maybe some good wine and good times), and now you were home, dressed to kill and hunting for absolutely nothing.

Not looking for anyone. No one at all.

You wore the kind of dress that made men stutter and women stare, all curve and cling, and a slit so high it epitomized the phrase ‘serving cunt.’ But matter how good you looked, the vibe was off. You were already halfway out the door, bored and buzzed, when your phone lit up.

—-

Someone mentioned to Ari that you were there and his heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t missed you. Not exactly. But you still lived in his bloodstream like a toxin.

Ari: I need to see that O'Keefe, because I’m thinking about how to pitch your pussy wing to the Whitney.

You smiled before you even meant to.

I’ll bring it over.

—---

His place again. Different vibe. Same tension.

He opened the door in a low-slung pair of sweats, shirtless, hair a mess like he’d either just woken up or spent the last hour trying not to text you. You crossed the threshold and flowed into him, your face winding up in his hands.

“You’ve ruined me,” he muttered against your lips.

“Good,” you whispered, sliding your hands down his chest. “I want you cracked open.”

The sex was a war. Bodies tangled, breath was stolen, teeth were at throats, and Ari’s hands left prints on your body that you begged for.

He pulled your hair. You bit his shoulder. Nobody relented.

But after, he asked the question neither of you you were supposed to ask.

“Why’d you really come?”

You glanced at him, a mess with your mascara smudged and your lips bruised. Ari thought you were beautiful.

“Because I was bored.”

It was a lie. But you said it like it was the truth.

Ari nodded once, no smile this time, “Fair.”

You sat up, pulling on your panties slowly. His eyes followed every movement like they always did.

“This is still just sex, Ari.”

“I know.”

You stood. Winked. And didn’t kiss him goodbye.

“Call me when you’re lonely enough to forget that.”

“I always am,” he said, voice low.

You almost turned around. Almost. But you walked out like you didn’t hear it, like your body wasn’t already aching for a fourth time.

Ari listened for your knock longer than realistic, his cock hard again for you and his chest a little hollow.

He knew the game. But the way you left wasn’t detachment.

That was art.

—----

2:14 a.m a week later

Your room was lit only by the glow of your phone You were still dressed, heels kicked off by the door, satin sheets tangled around your legs.

You weren’t drunk. Not really. Just restless. You were annoyed from a night full of people who said nothing interesting, and from hands that didn’t hold a candle to his.

You’d danced. Laughed. Almost let some stranger kiss you. But the whole time, Ari sat in your chest like a slow-burning ember you couldn’t snuff out.

So you called.

Not a text. Not a DM. A fucking call. 

You didn’t even know why you called. He’d sent you his number weeks ago, and you hadn’t used it, only messaged him through the app. He followed you on Instagram and you added him just the week before.

Now he had your number, in more ways than one. He answered on the second ring.

“Muse,” his voice was thick with sleep and something else, something like relief.  “Didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”

You paused and bit your lip.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Same.”

“So you weren’t surprised?”

“I’ve been waiting for this call since last week.”

Silence. 

“You alone?” you asked.

“Always.”

That word sunk into your skin. Deeper than you wanted it to.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Then don’t,” he said, voice dipping low. “Just tell me what you need.”

You closed your eyes.

“I need to cum.”

Ari groaned softly. You heard rustling, sheets, maybe his hand already brushing over himself. That sound went straight between your legs.

“Are you touching yourself yet?” he asked, voice all velvet and gravel.

“Not yet. I want you to tell me what to do.”

“Fuck.” His breath hitched. “Okay. Take off whatever you’re wearing.”

You did. Slowly. Phone cradled against your shoulder. Cool air kissed your bare skin.

“Now what?”

“Lay back. Spread your legs. I want your fingers where I’d put my mouth.”

Your stopped breathing. He wasn’t even trying to play it cool anymore. His voice got rougher and more unhinged with every erotic instruction.

And you followed each one like a commandment.

He talked you through it, exactly how he’d taste you, hold you open, and suck you until you sobbed. The way he’d pin your hips down and lap up every drop. The way he wouldn’t let you come until you were begging for it.

You could almost feel how hard he was, how close. You were both panting, moaning, and lost in the fiction that felt more like fact. His voice was your undoing.

“Say my name,” he growled, right as the orgasm hit.

And you did.

“Ari...Jesus.....Ari.”

He came right after you, a deep groan that sounded like he’d been holding it in for days. Then silence again. You were the one to break it this time.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughed softly, wrecked.

Fucking Muse.

“No. Of course not. Just helping each other sleep.”

“Sure,” you murmured. “Just sleep.”

You didn’t hang up. Neither did he. You both stayed on the line. Not talking. Just breathing.

Until eventually, you fell asleep to the sound of him doing the same.

—-----

The next morning. You woke up to sunlight, a dry throat, and a notification.

Ari: Slept well?

You smirked. Stretched. You were still tingling from the night before.

You: Obviously. I sleep like a baby after I cum that hard.

Ari was undone. Hard as a rock at the news that he’d done his job. His job. Christ.

Ari: Then I’m a humanitarian. The UN should give me a medal. Nobel Peace of Ass.

You laughed into your pillow and typed back.

You: Don’t get cocky. You weren’t inside me and I did all the work.

Ari: You like doing the work. I’ve seen how you move when you’re on top. Still think about your pussy clenching around me. Fuck, you’re like a vice. An extremely wet, silky vice.

You stared at the screen for a second, jaw tight, heart a traitor.

You: You’re replaceable, you know.

A lie.

Ari: I know. You’ve had others. But none who make you call first.  And no one else knows the sound you make when you’re trying not to moan.

You left him on read. An hour. Just to remind him you could.

—----

Later. Another ping.

Ari double texted. This was a problem.

Ari: Wearing anything dangerous today?

You: Pencil skirt. No panties. Dangerous enough?

Ari:  The image I just got is illegal in 14 states. I’d risk all of them. Wanna see what you’ve done to me?

You almost said yes. Almost sent a pic yourself. Almost. Instead…

You: Ari, this isn’t a thing.

Ari: If it wasn’t a thing you wouldn’t have called me last night. And I wouldn’t still be thinking about all the ways you said my name.

They all destroyed me.

Your heart pounded irrationally.

You: You’re starting to sound attached.

Ari: More like, intrigued, like I’m staring at a painting I can’t afford but still keep coming back to.

That one hit. You didn’t reply. Not because you were uninterested, but because you were too interested. 

And if he ever knew how often you reread his messages, he'd own you.

—-------------

4:07 a.m.

You woke up for no reason. Your phone was lit up on your nightstand with one notification.

Ari: You’re asleep. I know. Just needed to say this somewhere. You don’t have to respond.

You blinked. Stared. Something in your stomach coiled tight. Three dots blinked. Disappeared. Blinked again.

Ari: I lied. I wasn’t just intrigued. I’m fucking haunted by you.

You sat up, chest tight, throat dry. He kept going.

Ari: The way you looked in that dress. The way you laugh. The way you can leave like it doesn’t cost you a damn thing.

Ari: I don’t want to be a thing to you. But I want to be the thing. And I know you don’t do soft. But fuck, I’d let you break me slow if it meant I got to keep you a little longer.

Five minutes and you didn't reply. You couldn’t. Then he sent another text.

Ari: Ignore this. Delete it. Pretend I was drunk.

Then…

Ari: But if you feel anything close to what I feel….Say something.

You stared at your screen like it might explode. You felt everything and hated that he knew it. Why did he have to know you so well?

You: You shouldn’t say things like that at 4 a.m.

Three seconds later, Ari responded.

Because you said something.

Ari: It’s the only time I can’t lie to myself.

You closed your eyes. Goddamn him.

You stared at his last message until your eyes blurred. It was too much. And not enough.

Your first instinct was to shut it down.

You: You shouldn’t say things like that at 4 a.m. I’m not your salvation. I’m not built for soft landings. I will hurt you.

You hit send. Then tossed the phone aside like it burned you, but it buzzed again and you grabbed for it.

Ari: I’ll take the bruises.

You closed your eyes. God, why him? He was the one that would be your undoing. You hesitated before answering, your thumb hovering over the screen. Then you just did it.

You: …come over. Leave your feelings at the door.

Ari: Halfway there.

—----

Ten minutes later, you opened the door. Ari didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

His eyes were already on your mouth, immediately hypnotized. You grabbed him by the collar, dragged him in, kissed him hard and pushed him down on the couch.

You both knew this wasn’t just sex. But neither of you was ready to admit it.

“Your turn,” you murmured.

And then you dropped to your knees.

Ari froze. He hadn’t expected this. Not from you. You hadn’t sucked his dick. Not even once.

Not for lack of interest; he’d dreamt about it. Fantasized. But he never asked. 

And now, here you were.

On your knees. For him.

His mouth went dry. His dick didn’t. Not even close.

“Muse…” his voice cracked, hands fisting the couch, knuckles white.

You didn’t answer. You lifted your arms and unbuttoned his shirt like he was a gift you were unwrapping. Your fingers traced over every line of muscle. He hissed when he realized this was really happening.

“Muse…you’re killing me.”

You leaned in and kissed his chest, tongue snaking out over his nipple. And he let you. You slid his shirt off, fingers brushing his triceps like you knew what made him weak.

“Shhhh,” you whispered. “’M busy.”

Ari’s head fell back on the couch as his blazing eyes watched you. He was utterly undone. 

“Yeah, I can see that…”

With his shirt off, you kissed across his pecs, then shifted to lick and kiss each of his ribs and over his abs, sinking lower onto your knees. Ari was going to blow all over your face, and not on purpose.

“Oh god…”

“Woman at work here. Trying to focus.”

“Fuck. I am focused.. Focused on you…I just…”

You unbuckled his pants and once free, his cock bobbed in front of your face, completely erect and begging for your attention. 

You looked up into his blue eyes, almost too soulful to look at.

“Looks like someone missed me,” you said.

Then your mouth was there, hot breath ghosting over his cock. He was already painfully hard. You hadn’t even touched him yet and he was halfway gone.

“Been too long,” he muttered. He hated himself for how true that was.

You raised a brow. 

“We helped each other sleep yesterday. Fucked a week before that.”

He met your eyes. His were dark now, pupils blown so wide that the blue had almost disappeared.

“Like I said. Too-- fuck!”

He gasped as you stroked him, him up and down gently, then teased the tip, then slid down again, hands working his balls like an artist.

And when you reached out to lick his tip, Ari forgot how to breathe.

“What were you saying?”

“Fuck, Muse… I need…”

He was done speaking when you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around his dick. In fact, he stopped talking altogether. All that came from him were a series of moans and goans, as you worked him over with your tongue and your lips.

His hands found your hair, grasping gently at first, and then with increasing intensity as you bobbed on his cock. 

You relished every moment, the visceral nature of it. At one point, he tried to pull you off, but you weren’t having it and instead took him deeper, forcing your throat to relax and take more of him.

“Oh my god. I… I’m going to cum.”

His fingers tangled in your hair. Not to guide you. Just to anchor himself. Because it was you. On your knees. For him. And he couldn't stop watching. Couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream.

You worked him over like it was your job, like you were mad at him for not begging for it sooner. And maybe he was mad too, at how good it felt, at how much he needed this, needed you.

At how it made him feel something close to being worshipped. By you.

“Oh my god, I… I’m gonna…”

You didn’t stop.

You just looked him in the eyes and took him deeper.

And he came apart at the seams.

His muscles tensed, and it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite.

It was a raw, guttural sound that settled between your legs like a brand. 

He groaned your name, hips jolting, and you took it all. And did what you never did. 

You swallowed.

Ari watched, chest heaving, sweat dotting his temples as you sat back on your knees and wiped the corners of your mouth as if you were casually adjusting your makeup.

Ari stared at you.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, woman.”

You tilted your head mock-innocently.

“Was it to your satisfaction?”

Ari didn’t answer, just lunged, grabbing your waist and hauling you onto the couch easily. Then he threw one of your legs over his shoulder as he mouthed at the soft skin on your thigh.

You breathed his name just the way he liked, “Ari…”

“You didn’t think I was done, did you?”

You smirked. “Not even close. You did say it’d been too long.”

His look said exactly how long it’d been.

The talking stopped. The fucking started.

And this time, it wasn’t war, it was surrender. The kind that left you both trembling. That kind that left marks you wouldn’t find until morning.

And in the moments after, when your chest was on his, both of you soaked in sweat and breathless, you whispered just loud enough for him to hear:

“Say anything like that again, and I’ll ruin you.”

Ari, still high off the taste of you, decided to be a smart ass.

“Promise?”

But he knew he couldn’t let you tear him apart forever.

----

The next afternoon, your limbs were sore in that satisfied way, and the ache between your thighs left a lingering reminder that you’d had that kind of night. 

One that left you wrecked, wired, and craving more. You stretched slowly and let the memory hit you like a second wave. 

The way he’d looked at you while his fingers worked you open. 

The way his voice slid against your skin when he called you beautiful. 

The way he owned every inch of you without a single promise.

Ari wasn’t there. But you wanted him to be.

That’s what really fucked you up.

Because you were the one who never wanted more. You were the one who always left first. 

But something about Ari’s touch had lingered. It wasn’t just the sex, though fuck, the sex was enough to ruin you. It was the way he looked at you. That was worse.

Those blue eyes were steady and unbothered, and entirely too knowing that you were far from indifferent towards him.

And that was so inconvenient.

You padded to the kitchen, naked and still wearing the imprint of his hands. Every step reminded you of how thoroughly you’d been fucked.

God, he was so good at that.

Coffee brewed while your thighs ached, the good kind of sore. You checked your phone.

No messages.

Good.

No expectations. No complications. 

Just a memory of the way he’d groaned your name, the weight of his body pressing on yours, the deep, slow thrusts that opened you up in the most delicious way. The way his fingers had curled around your throat, not to choke, just to hold. 

Ari's voice in your ear, You like this? Like being used by me?

He knew the answer to that. So did you, but you’d never admit it.

You sat down on the edge of your sofa, legs falling open instinctively, your fingers trailing down the inside of your thigh. 

You weren’t going to call him. You told yourself that.

Swore it.

But if you closed your eyes, you could still feel his mouth between your legs, dragging your orgasm out like it was a performance piece. You remembered the way his tongue had written his name on your clit, the soft hum in his throat that said he was enjoying it more than you were.

Your lip caught between your teeth as your fingers slid lower, slick and ready, your body already betraying you.

All for Ari, even if he wasn’t there.  

You pressed down, finding that rhythm, that pressure, that perfect place where pleasure bloomed behind your eyes.

Your head fell back. You imagined him there. On his knees. Worshipping. That beard scraping your thighs, his hands holding you wide open.

Your fingers moved faster, hips tilting, breath breaking apart in gasps as the edge closed in.

Ari. Ari. Fucking Ari.

You came with a quiet cry, hips jerking, legs squeezing together as your body pulsed around nothing. No cock. No hands. Just the ghost of him and your own damn fingers.

And when you came down from it, breathless and alone, you muttered to no one: 

“…Fuck.”

—----

A couple hours later, you wandered through the grocery store, hair up, face clean, but dressed in a scowl that was meant to intimidate. You told yourself you just needed coffee, but you knew better. 

You lingered too long by the fruit, fingers brushing over waxy apples, mind elsewhere entirely. When the cart bumped into yours, you looked up impassively.

“Guess I owe you an apple,” a deep voice said.

You glanced up. Tall. Handsome. Short brown hair, clean shaven, fit. Handsome.

He looked safe, the kind of guy who’d text the next morning. The kind of guy who’d ask what you were doing this weekend.

He placed an apple in your basket, a charming little peace offering.

“I’m Steve, Steve Kemp.”

You turned the apple over in your hand, feeling the weight of it, the simplicity.

“Smooth,” you said, lifting one brow. “That line usually work?”

He grinned, leaning in just a little, enough to close the space between strangers.

“Only when the person looks like they’re about to run away.”

For a second, it tempted you, the ease of it. A new face. A clean slate. The comfort of something safe. But you didn’t want safe. You didn’t want easy.

You wanted…something from someone you wouldn’t admit to yourself.

You wanted the weight of a body pinning you down, the sharp scrape of a beard on your thighs, every inch of you being owned. And although you could tell him to try to replicate that, this guy wasn’t it.

You set the apple back on the pile, giving the stranger a soft, practiced smile.

“Not in the market,” you said, and walked away without looking back.

Your body was still beholden to the memory of someone else.

—--

Across the city, Ari sat at his desk, contracts open, untouched. You lived in his head, under his skin. He closed his eyes, and there you were, hips rolling, breath hitching, the taste of your skin still on his tongue, the scrape of your nails against his back still stinging, and the breathy, desperate way you’d said his name still echoing in his brain.

Ari closed his eyes, the memory playing out without permission. The sacred image of your cream coating his condom-wrapped cock tormented him.

His hand shifted, cupping the hard line straining against his slacks. For a second, the idea of jerking off right there in the office to the thought of fucking you raw didn’t seem all that crazy.

He was sure he could get off with just a few tugs thinking of you.

Yeah. He was crazy.

The buzz of his phone dragged him back, the screen flashing with a reminder: late lunch date. Ari exhaled, flexing his fingers once before pulling himself upright. The day wanted him elsewhere. But his head stayed with you.

Muse.

—--

The low hum of conversation floated through Cathédrale, the kind of place where everything felt expensive and deliberately dim. Ari sat back in the leather banquette, nursing a glass of bourbon that didn’t do a damn thing to settle the fluttering behind his ribs.

Across the table, his lunch companion was talking, her voice a smooth, practiced purr that he barely registered.

Poppy, Polly, Peggy. He wasn’t quite sure of the nickname.

She was perfect on paper. Stylish, sharp, bred for black-tie galas, fluent in flirtation, and eternally just a little bit bored. She leaned in slightly, perfume clouding the air between them, her voice dropping to that silky soft register women used when they were about to cross a line.

“My husband’s in London for the week,” she said, letting the words hang there, heavy with suggestion.

It should’ve landed. It didn’t. Any other day, maybe it would’ve.

But all he could think about was you. The image of you stretched out under his artwork, flushed and undone. The way your hips had rocked against his hand, head thrown back, mouth open and desperate. 

The way your thighs had tightened around his shoulders, dragging him deeper, holding him there while your flesh shuddered around his mouth. 

His dick twitched against the constraint of his slacks, the memory more vivid than the woman across from him.

His companion laughed lightly, brushing her hand against his wrist, letting it linger, waiting for him to bite. But he didn’t.

“Sorry,” Ari said, pulling his hand away, polite but distant. “Got a lot on my mind today.”

You were a whole hell of a lot.

She tilted her head, mistaking his disinterest for some calculated game. But there was no game. Not this time. The lunch wrapped up fast after that, her parting glance lingering a little too long, and Ari let her go without another thought.

Because the only woman tangled in his head wasn’t sitting across the table.

It was you.

The one who wasn’t supposed to mean more than a couple of nights. 

The one he couldn’t shake.

His Muse.

------

Muse Four

Are you as wrecked as I am?

[flw3rrr]

Accepting grief

paring : Joel miller x reader

Summary: In which reader struggles to accept the loss of Joel, letting grief and trauma take over, desperate to find solace.

warnings: Mentions of blood, Angst, drinking to conceal emotions, PTSD, death, No y/n mentioned, Reader accepts the loss and heartbreak at the end, no description of reader (if anything is missed please let me know and i’ll add it💖)

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: It’s been quite some time since i’ve written something, crazy things in life happened so this may be a little rusty. but enjoy (i cried writing this)

Divider by: @cafekitsune

“Joel!” The loud wind from the snowstorm made it impossible to understand what words were being spoken. The distance is barely visible, huddling to yourself trying to keep some warmth inside your body. You left Jackson twenty minutes ago, with the deep urge to go out and find him.

Thoughts of losing Joel makes your heart race. Both having a somewhat normal life now to experience meant everything to you.

Just ahead you see a cabin almost looking abandoned. Carefully sliding off your horse, grabbing your pistol, and quietly walking around for the back door. Noticing fresh footprints and a cracked door puts your guard up even higher than it was.

The sound of grunts and cries allows your feet to move faster. Approaching the door, leaning against it, listening for anything.

“Please dont do this!” ellie begged. 

Thoughts ran through, body still as a stone statue. Possible outcomes of how to handle the situation ran through your mind. Taking deep breaths in and gripping your gun, you opened the door, shooting anyone you saw standing up.

Aiming for anybody until you were pushed down onto the floor by a man fighting him, desperately trying to get out of his grip, kicking, wiggling, anything to escape the hold. But by the grace of God, you managed to grab a shard of glass, cutting him right through, pushing him off; his blood was now on you.

After looking at the man who just attacked you, your head turned to Joel… just barely missing the sight of the girl.

His face, his body, barely even there. Blood covered every part of his face. You were stuck, unable to move. Breathshivering, stuck. Until suddenly a loud sound happened, breaking you out of the frozen trance. Noticing the girl right before you fall onto the wooden floor.

Blinking, You turned and saw Ellie, gun raised. Watching her go to Joel, crying for him to get up. He never did, and you feel your own heart break into thousands of pieces. It wasn’t until now that your own body broke down. Falling onto your knees, tears flowing down. Nothing could ever prepare you for this.

_________________________________

It has been weeks since Joel has been gone. Which means you’ve been without him for longer than you ever have been without him. He’s not there when you wake up, he’s not there when you go to bed, and he’s not even there to visit your dreams.

‘Damn you, Joel.’ You thought. ‘you leave me, but can’t even visit me in my sleep.’

Taking a sip of the drink you held didn’t fully give you what you wanted, but it was enough for now. People’s words of sympathy and advice are all you’ve heard the past few days. You knew they were trying to help, but words never bring people back, so you just thank them and walk on off.

Many people were worried about you, though, taking to the bottle more than usual, avoiding them, and staying home. The only place you had never visited, though, was Joel’s grave. It hurt knowing he lays six feet under, looking the same way he looked on the day of. His scars and wounds still on him.

It sickened you never being able to visit him; you wouldn’t see him, only his stone. That’s why you never left to see him on the day of his funeral; you never showed. Never liking the thought of burials and how their lifeless body stayed there forever. Nobody told you how it was; they knew you didn’t wish to know.

Every topic leading to him you avoided like the plague, but the only person you ever spoke about him with was Ellie. Knowing she was just as hurt as you, allowing her to open up to you if needed. But for others, his name never existed. The fear of talking about him allows flashbacks to appear. swarming back, reliving it once more.

You’ve worn some of his clothes for his smell, but not every day due to the fear of it going away so quickly. But right now it’s eleven pm. You planning to head to the bar for a drink and wash the pain and hopefully get a good sleep tonight later on. 

Slipping on your own boots, along with his coat, you begin to make your way to the bar for a drink. The quiet sound of snow crunching beneath your feet along with the wind howling calms you down. Never have felt calm before he passed. Almost like the earth’s way of trying to soothe you and convince you to turn back home. But you never turned back home; you just kept on walking. 

Once you had arrived, you took your place at one of the stools. It was quiet aside from the small chatting from the few left behind. It’s what you needed after everything: nobody telling you they were sorry for your loss and that they were there if you needed anything. It was almost as if it was a script given to everybody for them to rehearse just for your own ears.

Memories fled back to old parties taking place, small and soft ones that were held very dearly in your heart. sharing drinks with Joel and teasing him on how he should join the others for a dance, but of course that always ends with him rejecting the idea. But the most special part of that time was when he agreed, but only if it was with you instead.

Thinking about it, that was the best dance you ever had with him. The way his one hand lay around your waist as the other held your hand, never wanting to leave the moment you felt finally safe here in Jackson with him. Wanting to spend the rest of your entire life with him, perhaps your own family, if not, then you’d possibly own a couple of dogs and cats.

Lost in your own thoughts, a tap brought you back to reality, a reality where Joel no longer existed. Looking back, you noticed one of your friends. Not really a close friend but somebody who can relate to your own pain and suffering, Lily. She too had lost somebody she loved dearly, her husband gone for about four years. She’s never said how he passed, saying it was too brutal.

“Hey, how have you been doing lately?” She asked with sincerity in her face. It felt nice knowing she too understood that hearing words of sympathy over and over can be tiring and that wanting to be asked how you were is something you wanted more.

“Not sure, really. It could be better, though.” It was all truth. You weren’t really sure how you were at this moment, but you know it’s not how you normally feel. All the mental pain that clouds over your body drains everything from you, not being able to stand or even eat at times. It kept eating at you. Nothing could help, not even tears. You refused many times to accept that Joel was gone forever.

Lily just looked at you, examining your body and face, reading you like an open book. She knew what it felt like, and she saw that somebody just like her at one time needed help just like she did. Gently she put her hand over yours, her thumb softly stroking your hand, comforting in a way you thought.

“It’s hard, I understand. You refuse to acknowledge that somebody you love deeply is gone forever, and it ruins you for days, weeks, and years.” Each word Lily spoke was filled with honesty, careful to pick the correct wording but still comforting.

Listening to her words was hard to hear, but by some means, you listened.

“If we continue to ignore what pains us, scares us. It ruins our mentality even more than the actual death, and no matter how hard you try to hide from it, it never goes away.” She was right. You tried to hide away from the facts and fear. But deep down, it was nagging at you constantly. Evening affecting your own dreams.

Taking a sip of the drink you held, you then looked at her, eyes watery, drained, and tired. “So how do I fix what pains me? What do I need to take or do so that I may get rest from this?” The desperate need to get help is what you needed the most. That day is the only memory of him that clouds you endlessly.

“It’s not easy, but you have to face whatever bothers you most. Perhaps something he owned or anything. Confronting it slowly helps you fully grasp and understand that it’s alright to move on.” Those words were all you needed to hear to realize what you had to do. Needing to visit his grave and process he’s no longer on this earth.

“How long do you think it would take for me to accept?” The fear of never accepting the loss laid upon you. Hoping if there is an afterlife, you secretly beg the spirits to help you along.

Lily softly smiled at you. “That is up for you to decide when you’re ready to accept him being gone and let it help you continue growing into somebody better than you were before. Who knows? You may accept it after a few hours or even months.” Her words processed in your brain for a moment before you understood. You realized she was giving advice to you that she was never given back then, hoping to make yours go by quicker and easier.

“I understand. Thank you, Lily. I’ll keep your words in mind and maybe try it out.” With one last sincere smile and hug, you left. It was going on at one in the morning, half of the town away and sleeping safely. While walking, you noticed you were right by the cemetery where he lays. Everything was quiet and still aside from the wind, almost as if it was telling you to enter. Perhaps it was a sign to try it out now?

Perhaps with nobody around and just you in the night and the calm cold, it would help you. As if on cue, your body automatically began its way inside the cemetery. You saw nobody aside from headstones and flowers and letters everywhere. It was almost as if everything left you inside, leaving ultimate peacefulness within you. As if you had just passed on as well.

Even though you weren’t there to see him buried, you knew where he was. You walked right up to read his headstone. “Joel Miller.” Standing there in silence, you just observed, taking in the detail of how the wood was carved. Slowly sitting on your knees, your eyes look at the flowers that lay on his spot. From so many people that may never have known him like you did but still felt the pain just as you, Tommy, and Ellie did.

Not knowing what to do, unsure if you should just look or talk, emotions overwhelming your body, tears begin to flowdown. Not a sobbing cry, a quiet and simple one. “Damn it, Joel, why did you have to try to be a hero and save somebody?” 

Even though you tried to sound angry, you couldn’t help but crack a smile out of it. He always would try to save somebody he never knew, and that’s why you loved him dearly. “You know I’ve been crazy since you’ve been gone, Joel. I’m not really sure how to act without you by my side every day.” It was the truth, hating waking up every day and not seeing him right by you still asleep.

“You go on and die without me and yet can’t even visit my own dreams. What’s up with that, Joel?” A smile still lays upon your face, the wind blowing more, moving the trees. Perhaps it’s a way of him showing you that he is laughing? Whatever sign it is, you’ll take it. Comfort from him in any form possible is what you need the most right now, and you’ll take this one too.

“Joel, you know I miss you dearly and still love you. You were the only person I’d ever want to grow old with and die with.” Silence. Nothing but your own breathing and the wind could be heard, but it was almost like a blessing. Something you’ve never had for a long time. Peace.

Peace at last laid upon you, and it felt like you were being hugged. Maybe this was a way for Joel to let you know that everything would be alright. Perhaps you finally accepted the truth that he would no longer be with you physically but still with you mentally. Cherishing this moment, you closed your eyes, picturing Joel just as he was before he was taken.

You knew now that it was time to accept him being gone, to let his spirit rest so that you both can go different ways in different universes. Before leaving, you left one of your rings that you wore every day; it was one of his favorites. commenting on how he loved how it looked on you. It was time for you to give him something to take with him on his new journey.

Slowly getting up and turning back and making your way home, you felt cleaner, calmer, and at full peace. Perhaps now Joel can be at peace now that you released your own pain. It was time to start anew and join back with others and maybe guide others who had lost someone they loved.

That night as you got ready for bed, getting all comfortable and situated, you enjoyed the feeling of being able to go to sleep like you did before, with no fear, anger, or sadness. Comfort is all you felt, and as you drifted off, you felt like Joel was right with you. And that night you had a dream with him in a beautiful garden, sunny and calming. That’s when you knew. 

You’d finally accepted your own grief.

[neodymiumcuilz]

Help Khetam and her family from Gaza - no donations for the past 6 days 🍉🍉

Hello everyone, I want to remind you of Gaza. Gaza, where instead of crying over games, children hold their stomachs and cry of malnutrition, children cry after losing their parents, or of the fear of death they are met with every day. Every day, they wake up to a living hell, they wake up to the sounds of bombs, waiting for one to kill them, they are met with a reality of starvation, disease and bloodshed. The shelters are often damp and freezing, and they are living in degrading and dehumanising conditions that the world should care about more.

Khetam ( @familykhetam3 ) have reached out to me asking for help - they are a family from Gaza, who need out help. They are very low on funds - and haven't received any donations in six days.

" Hello, my name is Khetam and I am a young woman from Gaza that was displaced to Mawasi Khan Yunis along with my family. We are currently living in a tent among other people have been displaced as a result of ongoing bombardment and daily raids. Every day becomes more difficult as family and friends are being martyred, children have nothing to eat, and more people are getting sick without treatment.

There is currently no safe place for us in Gaza. People are being displaced daily and we are severely lacking in basic needs like water, food, and medicine. Our homes and our livelihood were destroyed after October 7th. Your support for me and my family is incredibly important. We have lost everything and hope that your donation can help us restore our livelihood. "

If you have money to spend at a coffee shop, you have money to help them.

If you money to spend on a chocolate bar, you have money to help them.

If you have money to spend on a plant, you have money to help them.

If you truly cannot donate - please share their story. But any and all donations will he appreciated, and will go towards providing not only humanitarian aid but also hope for the future and improving the quality of life for a family in need. Saftey and stability are basic human rights, nobody should be denied.

Please, have some humanity and help a family in need. Thank you.

[multiheadcanons]

AS OF WRITING THIS, IT’S MY MOMS BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAX’S MOM! I LOVE YA! MERCS AND THEIR MOTHERS

scout: meet patricia, but her friends call her patty! you do not get to call her patty. patty is a woman with a good head on her shoulders. she’s just tired. eight boys will take it out of you. patricia willis is the matriarch of the willis family. nothing escapes her eye, it’s just a matter of whether or not she wants to do anything about it at that time. the woman is almost always busy, and always getting run ragged behind many grown men. this doesn’t negate her ability to have fun. with a generous sense of humor and always in search of a hearty belly laugh, things with patty can go 0-100 so fast in any and every direction. interacting with patty shows you how scout would behave if scout were a pretty woman. a glass of wine located in one hand, and her phone in the other, nobody can say this woman doesn’t work for her money. she is almost always on the phone. cutting deals, making moves, and getting people whacked. oh yeah. she’s a mob mama. she feels bad sometimes because scout doesn’t call her as often as she would like, and when he does he’s normally wanting to talk to his brothers, or his cousins, and never her. she hears that he’s doing okay. that he’s happy. that his coworkers are nice enough, and he’s making money, and he promises that he’ll come home to visit one day. but he’s always so busy. she feels she brought this upon herself. she could never give her little jer-bear the time he deserved. and he left for it. when she finally managed to track him down for a surprise visit, the team was ecstatic to meet her. and not just because she’s got mob ties. scout has mob ties and that has never made them treat him any nicer. they just wanted to see the woman who created a kid like scout. she keeps a baby picture of him in the tub in her purse, it’s her favorite thing to pull out and show people. the team does get that photo copied so they can all have one. they just love poking fun at this kid whenever they can. she is nice enough to not absolutely mollywhop spy’s shit, but the second spy catches wind of her perfume, he is off the base. he can’t be seen by her. his head will be on a platter.

soldier: meet rose marie, friends call her rosie. an older woman with a no nonsense attitude, the team didn’t get to meet rosie. they just hear of her through soldier. and when he describes her, it makes sense why he is the way he is. oddly respectful, just weird. but she sounded weird. with unconventional punishment methods, and an odd sense of morality. like her work was wrong but the answer was right, and with soldier she got... close. close to correct. but she did love her son. as far as soldier was concerned, she was the best thing in his life. he misses her.

pyro: pyro doesn't know much about their mom. they weren't really given any time to be with them. pyro remembers being bounced around from foster home to foster home, and they don't really remember who was connected to what house. some of them were nicer than others, none of them kept pyro. so at that point... they don't really feel like they had someone they could really call a mom. they remember their older sister, but the memory fades more every day. it's a big reason pyro considers the team their family. the team has never let them go, even when pyro felt like they wanted to. they like that.

demo: meet isla! a firecracker of a woman, there was never a time this woman could be considered "nice", "sweet", "soft", or really any other stereotypically motherly trait. that was the men's job, not hers. it was her job to keep the household running like a tight ship. there was no room for any more people to be easygoing in the degroot line. especially in their line of work, where laziness can, has, and does get them killed. isla is honestly not sure how tavish has survived as long as he has. don't get her wrong, she's happy for it, she loves her boy, but she wouldn't think he made it to thirty. which makes her wonder how tavish makes his money. he urges her to not think about it. he takes care of her and that's all he thinks she should be concerned about. isla does not visit. she doesn't want to attempt to traverse an airport. so demo travels to visit her. this doesn't bother demo, really. it gives him plenty of days off, which is something the rest of the team doesn't seem to do. if anyone wants to join him, he welcomes it. it is easier to handle his mother when there's more than just him there. there's more targets for his mother to focus on. not that she is a woman who is constantly on the attack, it is just difficult, especially since the loss of her vision, to remain focused on just one person, or one thing. she never really grew out of her need to be kept in the know of everything. tavish has slowly been attempting to break her of this habit.

heavy: meet olga! the team would lay their lives down for this woman. heavy does not want that. the team would immediately step to battle for olga. heavy does not want that either. olga is the favorite of the mothers. she is kind, she is humorous, yet she is a very no-nonsense woman and the team loves her for it. they love how they can really just relax around her. heavy never feels like he can relax around his mother. his hands are normally very full with the team in and of themselves, he doesn't want his mother to see that he does, what he considers, a mediocre job at reeling in seven men and a pyro. olga doesn't know the words to tell her son that she doesn't give a shit. that all she wants is for him to be happy, and healthy, and hopefully keeping his head above water. so it does bother her that he is almost always so stressed. but she knows that there isn't enough methods of relaxation in the world for her son. she is very excited for him to retire. she just wants him to relax for a moment. and as she gets to meet the team, especially out of battle, and eventually out of mann co. entirely, she does get why he's decided these people are his friends. they keep him laughing. they keep him loose. they annoy him, but annoyance isn't stress, so she doesn't mind when her son lets out an exhausted groan. she's just happy he's living what can only be considered the closest thing to a normal life he can get.

engineer: engineer misses his mom. she passed shortly after he inherited the job at teufort, and she was one of the best women engineer ever had the honor of being related to. meet lillian, though most everyone knew her as lily. she was what the conaghers called the artist. every family had to have one, and she filled that role beautifully. and dell is glad for it, because her artistic eye influenced his mechanical mind. it made him more creative. it made him think outside the box more. and most of the conaghers would admit that they are not the most out there people. they do their jobs, they do it well, and they leave it at that. but his mother made the world seem more like something to be conquered, and less like something to resist being swallowed by. and she was never unafraid to get her boots dirty. engineer spent a lot of time around his mother. at least he feels like he did. he tried to spend as much time with her as he could. he did have to spend a lot of time around his dad. so his siblings got to be around his mother more than he did. but he was grateful for any moment he got to have with her. he just misses her.

medic: meet greta! greta was always a wild woman, and you would probably never meet another woman who is as vicious, intelligent, or frankly beautiful. though, if you tell her that, she will downplay the compliments. when interacting with greta, it makes a lot of sense where the doctor gets… pretty much most of his personality. she is loud, and silly, with some of the most uncalled for questions she can come up with. and the doctor always stayed around his mother. more than his father. and then his father died and that ended the opportunity for him to come out as anything other than a male version of his mom. greta, according to all who interact with her, is a wildfire of a woman with an imagination bigger than she should be handling, but dammit does she have a hold on that brain of hers. she is fairly certain she would lose her head despite it being attached to her neck. they have the same smile. along every wall in her home are photos of her two favorite men. professional photos of her husband (god rest his soul), her son’s many degrees and educational accolades, as well as some news clippings of the start of his life of crime. she thinks he looks very handsome in his mugshots! on the mantle of her home is her husband’s ashes. she misses her husband every day. but she gets to look at her son and see him, as well. he looks an awful lot like him. greta is beloved by the team. they don’t get to see her often, as the doctor usually goes to visit her, but greta being on the base is grounds for many bad decisions and fun stories. and she’s a beast in the kitchen. and the doctor is in much better spirits with his mother around! though, depending on your relationship with the man, could be just as much of a bad thing as it is a good thing. she loves watching her son work! she will tell him she never had a chance to accomplish the great things he does. and he hates when she speaks of herself that way. they don’t argue, and the doctor is more than happy to help tell a few stories of his childhood.

sniper: i don't think that snipes' parents have canon names, so i'm gonna give her one. meet jane! always known as a kind woman, mick was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she's not ashamed to admit that! the sudden appearance of a child in her life allowed her to truly shine as the homemaker she not only wanted to be, but was essentially destined to be. she had a tight hold on the mundy household, and ensured it ran as smoothly as any household with a rowdy, random boy crashed into. objectively the nicer and more supportive parent between her and her husband, it did turn snipes' into a mama's boy. he adores his ma. he would do anything for her, and if his parents were coming for a visit (which is very rare because sniper didn't think he would be able to explain everything) everyone takes off. they will not battle, just so sniper doesn't have to do too much to keep his parents both comfortable and out of the know. she thinks the team is... odd. but they're nice enough to her boy. so she doesn't really care. as long as they're looking out for him, she doesn't mind the team at all. and they adore her. they think she's funny, and truly just a doll. jane gives away that snipes likes to bake. she forces him in the kitchen to help her out, and it hits the team like a train that all of the pastries are normally him. they almost wonder how they didn't figure that out sooner, it's not like he's great at pretending.

spy: spy doesn't speak of his family often. what he's mentioned offhandedly, that the team has bothered to remember, is that his mother was a very mild mannered woman. usually quiet, and never showing herself, at least to spy, to be a woman of a rough nature, she was the softest experience spy ever had. and he didn't want to experience anything softer. his mother was a kind woman. a sweet woman. a motivated, and motivating woman. she was a good person. a hard worker, and a respectable lady. she passed shortly after spy became an adult. he thinks of her often. but who wouldn't?

[chaifootsteps]

I think one extremely important thing to realize with Viv, something a lot of people don't, is that even if HH/HB hadn't taken off, there was never going to be a scenario in which she flips burgers all day and then goes home to her rat's nest apartment because nobody liked her demon cartoons. She comes from an upper-middle/upper-class family, has always had an easy time of it, was scammed out of her life savings and was in a place where she could simply shrug it off, and if she squandered every last penny tomorrow on an outrageous coke habit or an investment in magic beans or something, that would be where she landed. She'll always be comfortable in that sense.

I know Kiwi Farms is an armpit of the internet, but their brand of rhetoric aside, I think the way they approach things like this is unironically really healthy and worth emulating. Namely, that if you're going to follow the antics of a public figure you wish could be banished to an island -- could be Viv, could be JK Rowling, whatever -- you don't stake your entire mental wellbeing on it, but approach it as a fun, communal ride with friends. Even if the harm they do isn't fun. It's out of your hands, so you might as well, and getting too heated is a sign that you need to take a step back.

That's what I try really hard to remember, and to go for here. Even if ten years from now they hand Viv the key to the moon and then upload her into a supercomputer so that she can live forever, didn't we all have a wild time talking about it together?

Thoughts on Viv selling fully out to Amazon?

Is it appropriate to say I called it? Since I do believe when analyzing Spindlehorse's financial signals I mentioned that this was a very likely outcome if my information was at least accurate.

On one hand, Medrano has mentioned wanting to have crossovers for her series but was very unsure of if that would be a possibility, especially since she wasn't interested in giving up any more creative control.

On the other hand, you know for a fact that if Helluva Boss was as successful as it was in its first season, it would be making more money than the licensing was worth in the long run and she would have very quickly given up on the effort, unless she genuinely thought this was the best route forward for her production.

What I'm saying is this is one hell of a way to say you lost confidence in your financial situation.

But I think there is something a lot of Critics need to come to terms with quickly here:

There is no cancelling Vivienne Medrano.

Her shows will be finished. She will be paid no matter what. Even if the shows are major flops, she still gets to laugh all the way to the bank.

So the best way to actually have an impact is to just stop talking about her shows.

They aren't that good, they aren't complex, they aren't even for you. They aren't being made for anyone but Medrano herself, and even if she is the only person watching her shows moving forward, she still gets paid the same.

So why even bother anymore? All you do is keep her relevant by bringing her up. By not talking about her, not letting her name or her shows trend in the algorithms and not engaging, even in negativity, with her works is how you keep her from getting more successful. If you really think she never deserved it and that she's a terrible person to have succeeded, just forget about her existence.

[shaibonbon]

Was there a particular event in Bonbon's life that caused her shift in personality from happy Minibon to current adult Bon?

(For the lazy readers) Yes. As much as I say it was a gradual change, I can divide it up into 4 major events and from those events, the 3rd one is (imo) the most impactful one on her personality shift. Tdlr, in 7th grade she ends up changing classes and ends up with no friends and with falling grades, that spills into disaster. Warning, Big lore dump bellow:

(Now the yapping answer for Edu, since you are the only one reading all of it. If you aren't Edu and read all of this, please say something I will give u a cookie). To talk about it, I need to give some context about the previous stages. Her life doesn't happen in a vacuum, so the events that came beforehand, already changed shaped in ways that matter (and we have to be on the same page here).

I want to say, this is all a bit WIP, I don't have good names for the events despite having somewhat clear timelines, it goes: Birthday Party, School change, 7th grade, and graduation.

Birthday Party

This takes place when Bonbon is very young (the bon on the left in the drawing). It is also what I was drawing on that unfinished comic 💔. I still plan to BUT, I have been thinking, and I will probably draw some simpler episodes before that comic. Anyhow, the consequences of that party is in a way where it all began. Like I did put in the sheet, Mini Bon is a very energetic cute bunny, and in almost natural way she tried talking with the entire class and considered everyone, even some outside of it, as friends. That all stops after the party. Kinda like a harsh dose of reality is injected all at once on her special day. Her trust with everyone, including her closest friends, suffers greatly and she gets hugely upset. From the this point forward, she kinda pulls back from interacting with most of them. She becomes more cautious, more insecure and far less extroverted. And welp, from the pov of an outsider you would look at her after a few weeks the effects might seem "subtle", but they linger on for the next years and have an impact, even if she doesn't realize it or thinks about it. (This event is probably the one I need to work out more, so if it feels a bit empty thats why)

School change

it's fairly obvious how impactful this one can be. Bon unlike her former classmates, ends up changing to a school in a different on village. It's scary, new environment, new schedules and routines, lots of new people, teachers and expectations. Bon doesn't handle it well. For example, the new schedule means she has to wake up way earlier while arriving home later. While this isn't that bad, it does mean she is more tired and has less free time to have fun. While the new routine it's a bit brutal for her initially, she struggles a lot. Getting the wrong bus, leaving the wrong bus stop, missing the bus, and many other things she screws up that I won't dive rn (future comic episodes perhaps) Trying to make new friends is not easy either. All classmates already know each other and have their friends group formed. It leaves her into this situation when the bell rings, she is left awkwardly alone. Bon becomes more anxious, shy and bit more withdrawn.

It's not all bad luck, Bon gets "adopted" by Cinnamon (who's design I haven't shown yet) and they become such good friends they turn into besties. At this moment you see the previous event affect how she behaves, no longer being the extrovert, she was and being far more cautious with who she chooses to be friends, she ends up focusing on just this one friendship. Quality>quantity way. This for real helps her survive the next 2 years in that school. Sounds good eh? Still, the silly nerd mini bon you see me post around, only exists to those who are closest to her (Cinnamon). Rest of the class knows nothing about her, to them she is just a quiet ghost during class and outside nobody. They don't really care either. Neither does bon, she already has what she wanted.

7th Grade

Ah the breaking point! (middle bon in the drawing) After 2 years, due to the school system works and the subjects she picked, she gets shuffled to a total different class. Cinnamon, despite still being in the same school, stops passing most time with Bon. Not only their calendars don't match up, them having no means of contact outside of school, and having classes in different blocks of school meant they really only saw each other a few times a week. Cinnamon meanwhile just made new cool friends, ending up passing time with them instead. (dw bon, at least you had to be replaced by like 5 people) Bonbon on the other hand fails to connect with any new people (partly a lot due to the 2 previous phases). it's not for a lack of trying mind you, she really doesn't connect with anyone the same way she did with the fox, she got extremely unlucky.

Another factor into play, 7th grade is when school gets more serious. Bon is a intelligent person, but that actually backfired on her. She never felt the need to study or work outside of school. What she learned in class was usually enough for her to get average-good grades. But from this point onward you had to study and practice. But when you pass most of your life without studying, you don't learn or get the motivation to do it from one day to the other. Nor do you make it a habit. (hint: she starts falling) To make it worse, school calendar just got brutal, she could be waking up at like 7:00 and arriving home at 19:40. Aside from being extremely boring, it sucks the energy out of you. You arrive home and the last thing you want to see is a freaking textbook. You just want to relax and have fun for once, so you you game a little too much.

I want to put yourself in her boots. You have basically no friends, your grades in school plummet, no matter how hard you try. At the same time you arrive home constantly tired and drained, also you are a teen, puberty is a thing and it does affect your behavior. How would you feel? Welp, for this poor teen bunny girl, saying she got very upset is to put it lightly. It nukes her self-esteem, everything just starts feeling hopeless to her. Small things change, thinking of a pretty outfit becomes an annoying chore, and no one would care either way, so you skip that for the extra minutes of sleep. Quickly, trying to talk with people at school takes too much energy and feels like a waste. You become grumpy, closed of and rude sometimes. Hard to find reasons to smile when life sucks am right? I could go on but you probably get how this is the most significant "major point" bc she gets very similar to how Bonbon is later in life. It's basically the middle ground between the 2 phases, you can still make her smile, she still would appreciate if you talked to her. Her eyes will light up if you bring a topic she likes. This phase lasts for around 2 years, think of it as a big storm. (in the drawing this is Bonbon on the right) Afterwards she manages to enter contact with Cinnamon outside of school and they reconnect again. Her grades are no longer going in into hell, heck some improve. Later on she gets lucky and even lands in the same class of Cinnamon again. Life starts to look up til-

Graduation, it is the final one, which I will leave for another day or ask. The final piece for how she becomes nowadays Bonbon.

I hope you enjoyed reading this very WIP, cringe, badly written lore dump. Hopefully it gives y'all a clearer picture of what I'm aiming for tho, and that I in fact do have in mind a clear story and episodes layed out for Bonbon. (Granted i have to write them and draw them). Of course I didn't go into much detail, I mainly explained the consequences of each phase. I didn't go through the episodes of those phases, since many of these "events", (or the correct word would be "phases") last a few years and are a lot of episodes together. Welp thank you<33.

[skellymom]

"LOST AND FOUND"

The BAD BATCH x READER (NO gender) Fan Fic

(Put YOURSELF into this story!)

The Batch are lost and land on EARTH!

NO WARNING: ALL AGES, some mild flirting with Hunter.

Word count: 3K

“Place is all clear.”  Echo reported as Hunter approached the large old farmhouse.  “Wrecker and Tech swept the residence.” 

“About time we found a shelter with food.”  Hunter nodded to his brother quietly following behind.  “Crosshair’s gonna disappear soon.” 

“I HEARD that.” Cross snarked as he led Omega along by the hand. 

Hunter chuckled under his breath. 

The Batch had parked the Marauder in a densely forested greenspace under the cover of darkness as the sun rose in the east.  So far, the inhabitants of the unknown planet hadn’t noticed a strange ship descend into the atmosphere and land. 

They had embarked on a mission outside their known galaxy, and the rarely used hyperspace lane spit them out somewhere Tech hadn’t expected.  After some backtracking, his calculations were off by one decimal point. 

And one decimal point got them completely LOST. 

The oddly random interstellar electrical anomaly might have contributed as well... 

There was PLENTY of whining and complaining aboard the Marauder...except for Omega.  

 She was hoping for an ADVENTURE! 

Omega squeezed Crosshair’s hand as she smiled up at him.  He squeezed back and she caught the tiniest upturn of his lips at her reassuring gesture.   Cross continued to chew aggressively at the toothpick in his mouth, SO HUNGRY he considered eating it at one point. 

Hunter, Crosshair, and Omega followed Echo across the backyard, onto the back patio, and through the sliding glass door of the house.  They entered a large open concept kitchen and dining room.  The place was clean and inviting... 

Like coming HOME. 

“WE LUCKED OUT!”  Wrecker excitedly greeted them.  “ENOUGH ROOM FOR ALL OF US!!!” 

“Attempting to unearth the name of this planet and it’s system...”  Tech’s fingers danced over his datapad with no success.  “At least we’ll have refreshment and accommodations for the night.” 

Wrecker IMMEDIATELY made a beeline for the fridge.  Omega let go of Crosshair and wandered over to kitchen’s pantry. 

Echo perused the kitchen counters and found EXACTLY what he was looking for.  He whipped the home-made quilted cozy off a coffee maker. 

“Ahhh!”  smiling and catching the scent of fresh beans already loaded into the top.  “Haven’t met who owns this house, but I like them already!!!” 

Omega grabbed a HUGE box of crackers and immediately brought them back to Crosshair.  He sat down at the kitchen table, slightly weak from hunger.  She pulled out a handful and they both snacked voraciously. 

Hunter chose to stand and take in EVERYTHING. 

Something seemed off. 

NOBODY was paying attention...they were FAMISHED and TIRED of course.  He couldn’t fault them for that... 

Single-mindedly Echo hit the START button on the coffeemaker.  It came to life LOUDLY grinding the beans for a FULL 5 minutes...an ETERNITY to Hunter. 

Tech tap-tapping away...trying to correct his decimal error and find intel. 

Wrecker loudly naming EVERYTHING he saw in the fridge, then tucking it under his strong arms to bring to the table... 

“You swept the WHOLE house?”  Hunter inquired. 

“That’s what Tech reported.”  Echo quirking an eye at Tech while watching the fresh caf descend into the glass carafe. 

Tech glanced up from his datapad and deadpan stared back at Echo.  Then his eyes ROLLED as Tech slowly turned toward Wrecker sassing “You DID sweep THE WHOLE HOUSE as directed, did you not?” 

Wrecker pivoted to fully face Tech, both arms comically CRAMMED with food and sassed back.  “YEAH.  What of it???” 

Hunter slowly and quietly took Omega’s hand leading her behind him.  She tucked the full cracker box under her arm to keep.  “Did you check the BASEMENT???”  He rumbled quietly. 

Wrecker’s eyes went wide realizing his mistake “Oops...” 

“Someone’s coming up the stairs.” Hunter warned. 

Tech’s eyes bugged out. 

Echo spun around and waited on Hunter’s order. 

Wrecker froze in place, holding onto the food like a lifeline. 

Crosshair crammed the handful of crackers he had left into his mouth, rose from the table and went for his rifle. 

Hunter put his hand on Cross’s arm “Let’s SEE how we’re received.”  He advised “We’re in THIER home without permission.” 

The Batchers quieted and listened to the slow ascending steps of WHOMEVER was coming up from the basement... 

A door opened. 

Then closed. 

Someone shuffled down the hall towards the kitchen. 

They heard a loud yawn. 

Hunter heard the person scratch their bum. 

A very disheveled human rounded the corner rubbing their eyes.  Hair extremely messy dressed in sweats and fuzzy animal slippers. 

“Oh man...thought y’all were gonna come back next week...”  They yawned loudly again, stretching with eyes closed.  

The front of their sweatshirt rose up with the stretch.  A skull tattoo peeked out from their hip to disappear again as both arms dropped... 

Eyes opening...”OH!” 

EVERYONE in the room stared at the homeowner. 

The homeowner scanned the room, taking in each person standing IN THEIR KITCHEN! 

“Uh...hello?”  The person seemed really unimpressed.  “Thought you were my roommates.” 

“We meant no harm.  Thought the place was empty.”  Hunter put both hands palm up to placate.  “We’ll just be going.” 

The homeowner noticed Omega hugging the box of crackers while hiding behind Hunter, Crosshair’s skinny frame, Wrecker’s arms FULL of food.  Echo next to the coffee machine he had turned on to brew... 

And Tech just standing there staring. 

They clearly carried guns and knives.  But NOBODY was reaching for their weapons...well, almost nobody.  The long-haired guy seemed to speak for everyone else while holding the HANGRY skinny guy at bay. 

Had they meant to steal valuables, they would have left as there were none.  Had they meant to kill anyone, they would have done so already. 

Plus, they had a CHILD with them. 

This group of people were literally starving.  How could the homeowner turn them away? 

A packaged ham dropped out of Wreckers arms and clattered loudly onto the floor. 

Everyone stood still, the tension in the room palpable. 

The homeowner shrugged and smoothed their messy hair down.  “Eh, y’all can stay.  Was gettin’ lonely without the roomies here anyway.” 

The Batch glanced at each other in dismay. 

The homeowner picked up the ham, set it the counter, and motioned to Echo.  “Since you started ‘er up, the mugs are in the cupboard above the coffeemaker.  I’ll take some coffee in the purple moon mug.  Half coffee, half creamer, LOTS of sugar.” 

Echo chuckled as he opened the cupboard “Thought I’d like you.” 

The homeowner grinned and turned to Wrecker “Go have a seat and eat hon, your arms are gonna fall asleep.” 

Wrecker nodded and shambled over to the dining table. 

They nodded to Tech “You too and everyone else.  Get comfy.” 

“Much thanks for your hospitality.” he nodded. 

“Ooh...MR FANCYPANTS.  I could get used to that!” 

Crosshair spoke before Hunter could “You’re...LETTING US STAY?” 

“Lookie there...it speaks.”  The homeowner chuckled as they walked over to the large table.  “Hey, BIG GUY give SKINNYBONES a sandwich.” 

Wrecker obediently handed one over to Crosshair who snatched it out of his hand.  Cross greedily unwrapped the sandwich and bit into it suspiciously. 

Echo brought heaping mugs of caf to the table, handing them out. 

“Thanks, COFFEEDUDE” The homeowner gulped from the heaping cup.  “Perfect.  You’re hired.” and giggled. 

“You and I take our cafe the EXACT same way.”  He winked. 

Hunter pulled out a chair for the homeowner. 

They stopped, stared at Hunter “Y’all are TOO GOOD to have just broken into my house on a whim.  Did the roommates put you up to this?” 

Hunter sensed an infodump incoming...and was unable to stop it. 

“We embarked on a mission to an off-galaxy planet, entered hyperspace and found ourselves with no option but to land upon your planet.  Our rations being low... 

“TECH...”  Hunter growled. 

“Well...the cat is out of the bag currently...”  Tech trailed off. 

Wrecker and Omega watched the interaction while eating.  Crosshair yoinked another sandwich out from the food pile on the table. 

“Let’s be honest, Hunter” Echo swallowed the warm brew “We’re out of options.” 

The homeowner laughed out loud “You can drop the act.  Who put y’all up to this?” 

Hunter gently led the homeowner to the back sliding glass door, pulled out the scope from his pack and held it up to see through. 

The homeowner eyed Hunter skeptically, then glanced into them. 

“If you look past your property...under those trees...”  He adjusted the scope “Can partially see our ship.” 

The sunrise provided enough light for the scope to enhance the homeowner's vision. Whatever was under that thick canopy of trees was VERY REAL. 

The coffee mug slipped from their hand.   Hunter caught it before it broke on the tiled floor. 

“OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD...”  Shock, dismay...” You’re...ALIENS???” 

“Well...technically...” Tech chimed in, index finger up “we are interstellar humans who have become lost in a...” he squinted at his datapad “possible time-space continuum from another galaxy long ago far, far away.” 

“Wut...?”  More shock. 

“I... struggle to explain it ANY CLEARER.”  Tech added. 

“Have a seat, this is A LOT.”  Hunter steered the homeowner to a chair, where they plopped down heavily.  He went to refill their cup of caf. 

“WE’RE LOST, HUNGRY, AND HOMELESS.”  Wrecker blurted out, then pulled the cling wrap off a bowl of salad, reached in, and stuffed the contents of his fist into his mouth. 

“Straight to the point, Wrecker.”  Crosshair shoved his arm into the cracker box Omega had in her hand. 

Echo got up and rifled through the pantry, came back, and set down a bottle of rum on the table in front of the homeowner.  “This might help.” 

Hunter returned, sighed as his efforts were thwarted and set the caf mug down next to the bottle, then returned to his seat. 

Omega uncapped the bottle of rum and poured a shot into the caf cup. 

Hunter almost missed this until he sat down “WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOUNG LADY???” 

Omega shrugged “I see Crosshair and Echo do it ALL THE TIME.”  She sassed.  “They call it their medicine.” 

“Gimme that!”  He leaned over the table and yanked it out of her hand.  Then took a swig and capped it. 

The homeowner knocked back the coffee-rum in several swigs, slammed the mug down, and slid it over to Hunter. “Hit me again.  Gonna need more to fully process this...” 

Omega harrumphed, got up and stalked over to the pantry.  She came back with several juice drink boxes, dropped them onto the table announcing with angst “I’m drinking early too!” 

“So...do you abduct people and...anal probe them?”  The homeowner addressed Tech.  

“I BEG YOUR PARDON???”  Tech seemed VERY offended. 

Wrecker stopped chewing and the rest of the Batch stared in horror. 

“You know.  Like those long tall aliens with big eyes?”  The homeowner inquired. 

“The...Kaminoans?”  Echo blurted out. 

“Uh, sure...we call them Alien Greys here on Earth.” 

Crosshair snickered “Eh...wouldn’t be surprised if they buggered people for...science...total freaks.” 

“You mean instead of for FUN.” Echo joked. 

“Well, at least THAT’s consensual.”  Cross shot back with a slight grin. 

“Your planet is named Earth?”  Tech rolled his eyes.  “That’s NOT very imaginative.” 

“Well...MR FANCYPANTS you’ll love we named our moon The Moon and our sun The Sun.  All the other heavenly bodies have much more interesting names.” 

“My name is NOT MR FANCYPANTS.  It is Tech.”  He sniffed. 

“Ok...Tech...” 

“I’m Omega!”  Omega took over the conversation while sipping the drink box.  “This is Echo, Wrecker, Hunter, and Crosshair.” 

“Helloo everyone...you’re a little firecracker, aren’t ya, kiddo?”  The homeowner grinned. 

Omega grinned back.  “What’s your name?” 

“Y/N” 

“HELLO!”  Wrecker thundered, then went back to stuffing his face. 

“Omega’s been quite sassy since...”  Hunter leaned back in his chair, crossing arms over his chest while staring a hole through Crosshair “SOMEONE’s been back with our family.” 

“You’re ALL related???” 

“We are all clones of a Mandalorian bounty hunter who sold his DNA to The Kaminoans to produce millions of clone troopers for The Grand Army of The Republic.”  Tech spouted while tapping away at his datapad.  “Since the fall of The Republic and rise of The Empire, we defected and are on our own, losing contact with most of our brethren...” 

“Oh...ok.”  Y/N grabbed the bottle of rum, uncorked, drinking it straight without coffee. 

“Might want to pace yourself...” Hunter warned. 

“Let them be, Hunter.”  Cross poked his brother. 

“Yeah...”  Y/N swigged again.  “All this was a bit more than I was expecting today...” 

There was a loud scratching at the sliding glass door... 

A large blue animal pressed it’s face against the sliding door, teeth bared in a silly grin, tongue out, leaving a large streak of saliva upon the glass. 

“Uh...we have a dog too...” Hunter mumbled. 

“Of course you do...”  Y/N stared at the strange looking thing. 

 Crosshair leaned back in his chair, opening the sliding glass door.  The blue “dog” bounded into the kitchen, booping Y/N with her nose as she ran by.  Then made a beeline for Wrecker where she begged for food. 

“That’s Batcher.” Omega added while chewing.  Her little legs swinging back and forth while she sat. 

Y/N CHUGGED several large mouthfuls of rum, then set the bottle down on the table.  The alcohol gave them a rosy glow. 

Crosshair grabbed the bottle, uncorked it, sniffed, shrugged, then drained the remaining couple of sips. 

“Well...I’mma gonna need a bit more time to process this...”  Y/N’s hand swept around the room to indicate EVERYTHING.  “Gonna go lay down now...” 

They got up from the table, swooned, nearly falling over. 

Echo quickly grabbed Y/N “Woah there...” and steadied them.  “Where do you need to rest?” 

“Basement...Can’t believe Imma cook dinner for SPACE ALIENS...” Y/N wondered fantastically out loud. 

“We are human clones NOT space aliens...” Tech corrected. 

“Just...” Echo putting a hand on Tech’s shoulder, advising him “Ignore that.  They’ll come around...eventually.” 

Hunter got up, make his way around the table and took Y/N from Echo. 

“Don’t eat THAT HAM!”  Y/N pointed to the thawing package...still sitting on the counter as Hunter led them down the hallway.  “THAT’S DINNER!!!” 

“OK!”  Wrecker answered.  “Batcher, NO!”  The rest of The Batch’s voices could be heard as Y/N and Hunter reached the basement door. 

Echo intervened.  Thud of the refrigerator door closing as he placed the ham in it for safe keeping.  Tech discussing side dishes with Crosshair.  Wrecker and Omega requesting dessert... 

Hunter’s silly grin as he clearly listened to all this while assisting Y/N... 

“You’re the eldest, huh?  The responsible one???” 

“Oh...”  Hunter chuckled.  “Maybe.  Well...mostly.” 

“Me too.” Y/N sighed.  “Hard job.  Not been very rewarding...hell, mostly heartbreak in my family...” 

“Sorry to hear that.  But I understand.  Not all sunshine and rainbows for me, either.” 

“They have those on your planet?” 

“Yep.  My home planet looked a lot like the ocean off the coast of your continent.  Very stormy.  The sunshine and rainbows were VERY rare for us.” Hunter carefully helped Y/N down the stairs. “Few times they appeared I treasured their beauty in the moment...never knowing if or when I’d see them again.” 

Y/N and Hunter shared a bittersweet moment as their feet took the last step onto a plush rug covering a concrete floor.  The basement an unfinished cinderblock construction, however, Y/N had hung tapestries and patterned curtains over the cold white painted concrete.  Warm wooden furnishings with plump comfy pillows formed a sitting room.  Bookcases containing books mixed w/whimsical keepsakes cordoned off the sitting room, containing a work desk, computer, artist’s easel with paints, and small dry kitchen with mini fridge.  Cordoned off again with fancy paneled screens sat a queen-sized bed. 

“What made you decide to reside down here?” Hunter queried 

“It’s quiet, cool, dark...private.”  Y/N went to sit and bounced onto the bed, falling back onto it.  “Not so overwhelming.” 

“Smart.  Nice place you’ve put together.” 

“You...” Y/N teased “Get overwhelmed a lot too, huh?” 

“Perceptive” 

“You’re welcomed to crash down here on the couch.  Your brothers and sister can take the roommates beds on the first and second floors.  Also have the couch upstairs...and possibly an air mattress...”  Y/N motioned with their hand.  “Someplace...” 

“We don’t want to impose...” 

“Oh no...y’all are QUITE welcome to stay here.  Honestly...”  The homeowner trailed off.  “The roomies will be back next week for their stuff.  Relocating to another state for work.”  Y/N sighed heavily. 

“That’s VERY kind of you.”  Hunter replied appreciatively.  “To open up your home to us...and notice my...sensitivity.” 

Y/N blushed and grinned. 

“’Mi casa es su casa’ My home is your home.  But if you all stay over a week, your names go on the lease.  There will be...responsibilities.  Everyone pulls their weight...you get me?” 

“Loud and clear.”  Hunter smiled broadly, winking. 

“Are you...no...”  Y/N shook their head, then stared back at Hunter “...flirting with me??? Or is it the rum?” 

“Well...”  Hunter chuckled.  “Who has the better chance?  Me or the rum?” 

“OOOOhhhh, a friendly AND handsome space alien.”  Y/N snorted  

“So... I MIGHT still have a chance.”  Hunter joked. 

“Take me for a spin in that spaceship, show me how beautiful my planet is at night with all the cities lit up...and what stars look like from space...might just marry you...” 

Hunter giggled and blushed.  “Let’s not get too carried away." 

“Too late...I’m tipsy...” Y/N getting sleepy. 

Hunter covered them up.  “Relax and sleep it off.” 

“I’m gonna wake up and this will all be a dream...or you guys will just make off with all my furniture...” 

“We’re real” Hunter chuckled “You can trust us...promise.” 

Y/N sighed and dropped off to sleep. 

Hunter squeezed Y/N’s shoulder, ascended the stairs, making his way back to the kitchen. 

Tech had a cookbook in his hands.  Wrecker stood behind him discussing the recipe. 

Echo busied himself by cleaning out the coffee maker and dutifully setting it up for the next morning. 

Crosshair and Omega pulled ingredients out from the pantry, setting them on the kitchen island. 

Batcher curled up and snoring under the dining table. 

“Looks like they approved our stay, lads and young lady.”  Hunter announced.  “At least for a week.  Past that...well, we may have to sign the lease and earn our keep.” 

“OH YEAH!” Wrecker pumped the air with his fists while Omega jumped up and down with glee, ran to Hunter and hugged his leg.  He tousled her hair. 

“That is fortuitous” Tech quipped “and will give me the opportunity to plot the correct coordinates for our galaxy.” 

“Going to need more alcohol.” Crosshair dryly added. 

“YOU need to eat more, not drink...” Hunter ordered. 

“NOT for me, Hunter” Cross shot back “Our host.  We all tend to be rather...EXTRA in a group setting.  Possibly some for YOU too...due to that fact.” 

Hunter smiled at his brother.  Cross inserted a fresh toothpick into his mouth and slyly smiled back. 

“We’ll work it out.” Echo reassured them.  “Be nice to stay here where it’s quiet and we have enough space for all of us.” 

“Gonna cook that ham and surprise Y/N as a thank you!”  Wrecker beamed. 

“Just...”  Hunter joked “Don’t set fire to the kitchen...ok?” 

Beneath their feet Y/N slept soundly...never suspecting the shenanigans they would all get up to in the future... 

Would you like to see more installments of this story where The Bad Batch try to fit in on Earth? PLEASE message me with any story requests! THANKS!!!

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[ryewwww]

for Bully Gojo x Shy Reader, does he eventually calm down with (Y/N)’s 2nd pregnancy like how you said Eren in Mind Games calms down after marriage? or does Gojo still treat her badly?? :((

Links to all parts here

Yeah, it gets better.

It gets better when you learn not to fight. When you learn to be obedient because it’s honestly for the “best.”

Of course, your situation is fucked, but there’s really no escaping him unless he dies. Especially now, with two, young kids, you can’t leave them behind. Taking them with you would be hard and knowing Satoru, he’d be on your tail before you could blink. Especially with his kids—you knew better.

Fortunately, he’s a good parent. Adores your kids as much as you and during those family days (which he’s insistent on having), you find yourself content for once. In front of your kids, he treats you well.

He does have some bad days, but if you play your cards right (aka act concern and eager to “help” him) he has a lot more mercy on you. He just wants you to want him as much as he wants you. When you’re submissive, when you act concern, when you act loving towards him, he’ll reciprocate. He’ll plan the dates, he’ll go all out on Mother’s Day and genuinely thank you for blessing him with children.

His switch up is mind boggling, you’re very aware of that. It had you feeling confused, disgusted even, how he expects you to love him after all the trauma he put you through. It’s almost like he’s forgotten everything he’s done to you.

You want to address it, but you don’t. You don’t want to interrupt the peace in your life, because what if he reacts negatively and goes back to treating you like shit? Just the thought of it frightened you, so you stayed quiet.

Satoru wants you to stay a trad housewife. Take care of the kids, home cooked meals, ect ect. He does let you leave the house, bought you a nice car (has a tracker ofc) and lets you take the kids to the park or mall and ofc, buy yourself whatever you’d like. So you’re not trapped all the time.

This is probably when your mentality starts to change. You’ll never ever forget what he did to you, but when he starts treating you better, buying you things, validating you like asking for your opinions or talking to your children about how lovely their mother is—you could definitely get used to this. I suppose it’s lovebombing, and gosh it works. Now you can’t imagine a life without him and push all the unresolved problems under the rug.

Maybe you’re wondering why Satoru’s such an asshole.

To keep it simple, he’s a person that has never been told the word “no.” He has quite literally everything you could possibly want in this lifetime, but when a nobody like you rejected him, he was stunned. Saw it as a challenge that he clearly took too far. But it was more like proof in some sick way—he doesn’t care what he has to do, if he wants it, he’s going to get it and no one will stop him. No one can stop him.

Maybe things would’ve been different if you slept with him willingly that night.

[lyrarizii]

completely agreeing with this

People tend to forget alastor is human too instead of a heartless mindless robot cannabalistic killing machine

Vox is an awful human being, stalking alastor the whole day, never mind his privacy. People jst ignore that bc he is the pathetic type of villain which people make his entire character. Same goes for Lucifer too, he is depressed and his wife alledgly left him for heaven. So the fandom babies him. Completely forgetting the fact he is the literal devil.

Getting off track, people rather side with the side who is sad. Vox has been rejected, in society this is a very heartbreaking moment, so people sympathize. But! They always forget about the other party, why? Because they dared to hurt someone. But thats bullshit, is the opposite party supposed to enter an unhappy relationship? All because someone decided to confess their feelings to them? No. You as a person have complete right to reject someone and they should take that no with respect. Vox always reminds me of those guys who hit on women and dont take no for an answer and then follow them home.

Because what if Alastor did enter that unhappy relationship? Then everyone would be saying he shouldnt even have done it in the first place, he shouldve rejected vox, its his own fault he is in this mess.

Rejection is shit, both times the one who rejects is blamed.

But but! I do have a really good fic where it explores and follows alastor's pov when vox confesses. Can share the link if ya want :D

Also totally agreeing with the Husk part of this. Always baffled when husk gets babied so much. Like did yall forget he was an Overlord? Sinners have to kill and enslave and manipulate to become an Overlord. Husk literally had to do all this. And we see he enjoyed being an Overlord as seen in the flashbacks, drunk with power. Manic grin. "It was nice to have that power"

And people completely forget all that because he had a sad song and backstory.

Sure we got to see 1 scene where husk was threatened by alastor, but that was after he literally said something very triggering after alastor was already riled up because of lucifer not to forget. Now im not victim blaming! Alastor had no right at all to react like that. But husk couldve been smarter.

People just pick on alastor because he is the only one who openly flaunts how evil he is. Nobody else does that, they all get babied by the narrative. Husk, vox, lucifer. All victims of alastor.

But we want to talk about al? We wanna talk abt him? Lets talk abt how viv said he is the Dexter of serial killers. Only killing people who have killed others, he killed rapists and abusers and killers. (Hopefully, since this wasnt confirmed canon in the show, this was said before the Amazon show)

But we wanna baby alastor? Sure we can do that.

He was a mixed Creole man in the early 20th century, just do a quick Google search and see how hard life was for poc.

More info, it is semi canon his dad was abusive towards him and his mother, there. Baby him.

People just pick on alastor because he does t show the fact he also lived through alot. He hides it behind a mask of murder.

Alastor and Aphobia in the Hazbin Hotel Fandom

(If you're a Vox fan or a Husk fan, I suggest you don't read this post!)

This isn't a normal post, but I'm just tired of everything going on in the fandom.

This is mostly a ramble, so I'm going to make little to no sense.

First of all, I'd like to talk about Vox, and how he is portrayed in Radiostatic.

There's almost only angst posts about how Vox feels. I see a lot of people only sympathizing with Vox, while calling Alastor heartless.

Alastor is being STALKED by Vox.

And if you think that Alastor LIKES it, you need to PAY ATTENTION to his facial expressions when Vox ISN'T watching. When he walks out of the tailor, he has an annoyed expression. At the end of Stayed Gone, his expression is similar to that of when he was telling Mimzy to leave. Alastor DOESN'T like being stalked, his sassy attitude is him hiding his true emotions.

Also, Vox is with VALENTINO. It is implied that he LIKES Valentino's antics.

Vivziepop SAID that Vox (and Velvette) enable and ENGAGE in Valentino's behavior.

Yet, I only see people talking about how sad Vox must have been, and how he must be heartbroken.

I have a bit of a past. I've been stalked myself. One time, I was confronted by my stalker's friends, and they were mad at ME for breaking his heart, not me, who was getting stalked. Yes, they were biased, but there is a THEME going on here.

Empathizing with the stalker instead of the one being stalked because they broke the stalker's heart.

I don't know how everyone decided on Vox and Alastor's backstory, especially with people insisting that Alastor is ONLY asexual. I don't know how the same people who insist that, also think that Alastor rejected Vox.

Maybe it's because of... The fact that Alastor is aromantic-coded?

Yet, people still only focus on how Vox feels.

Now, let's talk about Husk. Mainly how people only talk about how Alastor is abusive to Husk thus Alastor is pure evil (sometimes how he is worse than Valentino).

Does anyone remember what Husk said about himself? Husk literally stated that when HE was an overlord, he GAMBLED WITH SOULS. Who knows if Husk ever gambled with Valentino?

But everyone is fine with HUSK, and how he is PERFECTLY REDEEMABLE.

And before you say that Alastor doesn't want to change, HUSK didn't want to change EITHER until Alastor got his soul.

So... What's the difference here?

Maybe Husk's chemistry with Angel Dust?

How people can ship Husk with Angel Dust?

Thus Husk is perfect in every way?

Nobody talks about how Alastor treats Niffty. Nobody talks about how Alastor got USED by his friend.

But Husk has a possible romantic-interest and HE'S the one being defended?

Also, Angel Dust was a member of the Mafia and I don't see people calling him a monster. Maybe it's because Angel Dust is VISIBLY distressed about his problems. Alastor isn't, so he's completely fine (when he doesn't want to seem weak so he hides his emotions). Alastor is an imperfect victim.

And before you say that Alastor was a serial killer, let's take a look at some of his kills! I'm not mentioning all of them, but if you want me to look at one, just tell me.

THE LOAN SHARKS. Vaggie wanted to kill them first. And when Husk and Angel killed Loan Sharks, nobody had a problem with that. Maybe because Alastor was gleefully killing his set- oh wait Angel Dust was having fun killing them too.

The Egg Boiz!1! (He didn't kill them, but whatever). Vaggie went to Alastor first, and told him to get rid of them. Although she empathized "humanely", that may mean that she wanted Alastor to just... ABANDON THEM ON THE SIDE OF THE STREET??? Instead Alastor somehow ended up babysitting them or some crap and told them to "guard the entrance" knowing damn well they would just be dumb about it. And the Egg Boi that DID tag along? Frank? Alastor wasn't even mad.

Idk I'm done