#the question is really quite simple; if i can't take care of myself

[familyvideostevie]

a kind of hunger | chapter 1

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

joel miller walks into your life just as it starts to fall apart. surely some hot nights with the bar's newest regular can't hurt, right?

length: 9.2k

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), doggy style, missionary, slightly painful sex, dirty talk, size kink if you squint, joel is a liiiiiiiitle mean if you squint, general feelings of loneliness and angst from r in her free time

a/n: huge thank you to @strangerfreaks without whom this would never have gotten off the ground. also to all the joel writers on this site, i love you, i am in awe of you. please allow me to give it a go myself <3

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The first time you sleep with Joel Miller you know it won't be the last. 

But that's not where this story starts. 

It starts in a bar. Nothing special about it, really. Staffed half by college kids who come and go, half by drifters who, for some reason, stopped drifting once they found this dimly lit, sticky-floored hole in the wall. Not quite a local institution but not forgettable, never totally empty. It's got pool tables and a jukebox but also clean bathrooms aside from the graffiti and two new-ish TVs showing whatever the first guy who gets there wants to watch.

Point is, you work there. One of those drifters who stopped drifting. The guy who owns it, some crotchety old fuck called Bill, rents you the apartment above the bar for a decent price considering it's loud until 2am on the weekends and midnight all the other days. Loud enough that even on nights you don't work it feels like you're there anyway. But you get used to it. It's called Frank's, which you don't totally understand, but you're not about to ask questions of the guy who has finally allowed you to slow down and take a breath who is also your boss and landlord.

You've worked there long enough to have learned the names and orders of all the regulars who've been coming in since long before you walked through the door and to have seen some new regulars enter the rotation. In truth, you've worked there long enough to basically be running the place. It's still the bar in your head, not your bar because getting attached will do you no good. This is how it always goes: you care too much but it never seems like anyone cares back. You cut and run before you can be disappointed and you’ve already been here longer than you’d expected to be because it’s something close to comfortable. 

Almost no one messes with you despite being younger than most of the clientele and on the off chance some frat boy from the city decides to take a cheap shot you've got a small army of imposing customers on your side. Between them and your coworkers, it's almost like you're not alone. 

Almost.

The hours you spend away from the bar are spent alone. You don't have many numbers in your phone and the ones you do you don't call. You go on drives in the shitty truck you bought off some guy when you moved here. You browse used bookstores and suffer the heat of the day on long walks and wonder if this is all there is. You think of what it might be like to feel something other than rootless.

One thing that helps is…sex. Being close to someone for even a little while, letting yourself be seen in a way that doesn’t require you to totally show your hand. You try not to make a habit of actually fucking your clientele. It can get messy quickly, guys coming in and expecting more than a good pour. Being offended when you don't give them a free round, don't make eyes at them over the oiled wood. It's easier to be alone, that much you've learned. It's easier and it's simpler and it means you've only got yourself to blame for the hurt you sometimes feel laying in bed, staring at the ceiling as some rock song thrums up through the floor. 

And if you do fuck someone from the bar, you keep it simple. You do, however, try really hard not to sleep with regulars. And no staying over. A classic, unspoken rule of sleeping with strangers that you rarely verbalize but make sure to enforce every time. It keeps things neat. The last thing you need is mess. Who knows how long you'll stay in this town, in this little apartment and this shitty bar. You've got a lot of years left, a lot of years you should probably spend in classrooms or an office or falling in love with some nice guy with a nice family who can give you a nice life. 

But you're here. 

And then, one day, so is Joel.

Being a good bartender is memorization, paying attention, and keeping a level head. You know how to make pretty much any drink even though your regulars are mostly the simple beer or Jack and Coke kind of people. You swear you can tell when a glass is going to fall a second before it shatters, spot a punch before it can be thrown. So you notice when a man you've never seen before walks through the door.

You notice how the energy of the room changes, how multiple pairs of eyes follow him as he settles at the end of the half-full bar. Dark hair shot through with grey, green shirt rolled up over chorded forearms that he rests on the wood. It feels like you should know him but you don't. You've never seen him before.

You finish pouring beers for some giggly girls before making your way over to him. His eyes track you.

You wonder what he'll order. A shot, maybe, based on the tense line of his shoulders. Or a dark beer. Maybe something strong. You hope he won't be one of those guys you have to peel off the bar in a few hours. "Can I get you something?"

"Whiskey, rocks," he says. You can hear the Texas drawl even from so few words. Deep, low, measured. "Cheapest you got."

For some reason, it feels like he's returning and you're the new one. "Wanna start a tab?"

"I'll do cash at the end," he says. Ah, one of those. Guy getting away from his wife, maybe. Tough day at work. Doesn't want to leave tracks. You can relate to that.

"Joel fuckin’ Miller," one of your regulars says as you turn to grab a glass. He claps the man -- Joel -- on the shoulder. "Heard you were back up this way," he says. "Good to see you, man."

Joel simply inclines his head once like he's not thrilled to be recognized. The dismissal is clear. And, weirdest of all, it works. You've seen insults hurled between friends for less.

You set his drink down, the amber liquid sloshing around the ice. 

"Thanks," he mutters. The dismissal is...less clear, but you've got other customers to tend to. And Joel doesn't seem particularly chatty.

Your eyes return to him for the next hour or so but he never waves you over for another round. Heat trails up and down your spine and you have to tell yourself that he's not watching you. That would be too optimistic, right? At one point you take a bathroom break and when you're back he's gone, wrinkled bills stacked under the glass. Enough for his drink and a decent tip. 

Joel comes in three more times over the next month before you sleep with him. Each time he orders the same drink, leaves the same tip. He sits alone at the bar, occasionally saying hello when someone approaches but no one ever sits next to him. He's gruff but only ever polite to you, doesn't get impatient when it takes you a minute to get to him. 

And he's really something to look at. The tick in his jaw, the veins in his neck. His skin is tanned, dotted with small scars that must come from a lifetime of hard work. He wears a watch and jeans that hug his ass in an almost indecent way, a way that has you watching him when he's not on a stool. Sometimes you catch him smirking to himself when there's some shit going on at the bar, gossip or people being loud for no reason. You wonder what his laugh sounds like and scold yourself for it. No harm in looking but there's the possibility of harm in thinking too much. You know better.

The third time he comes in is a bad night. It's busy for some reason and everyone is a fucking asshole. You weren't even supposed to work tonight but one of the seasonal kids had banged on your door begging you to come help, promising you all the tips for tonight if you did. You knew it would make you look good to Bill and despite yourself, you didn’t want to leave them hanging, so here you are, sweaty and pissed and smelling like beer, doing your best to empty the dishwasher in between drink orders and praying the keg doesn't need changing. 

You don't even notice when Joel comes in, only spotting him once he's managed to scare some college kid from a seat at the bar. For some reason, his presence makes you a little calmer in the chaos. 

"Be with you in a sec, Joel," you say to him when you're near. You don't call him by his name since he never actually introduced himself to you but it slips out in the rush. His nostrils flare but you don't have time to linger on it even as you feel the hot weight of his gaze. 

"No rush."

You manage to get him what you know by now to be his usual only to be called over by your least favorite customer of the night as soon as he's thanked you. 

"Honey," the asshole says. This fucker's name is Seth and he's a pain in your ass. "Gimme another, will you? Make it a heavy pour." This would be his fifth and he's already slurring his words. 

"Don't think so," you tell him firmly. "I'm cutting you off for tonight, Seth." He's liable to start some shit or at the very least throw up on the floor and you don't want to deal with either. You don't have time to deal with either. 

His bloodshot eyes narrow and he slams a fist on the bar. You manage not to flinch, though pretty much everyone else does. "That's not good fucking service, sweetcheeks," he leers. 

"Good thing I don't give a fuck," you snap. "Get the fuck out of here before you do something you regret, sweetcheeks.” The venom in your tone seems to surprise him before sheer rage takes over. You've thrown out plenty of assholes in your time here but it's not always a smooth experience.

Seth leans forward over the bar, reaches for you -- to do what, you have no idea -- and you prepare yourself to yell for backup and then kick him out for good and maybe get a punch in as he goes. His fingers manage to hook in your shirtsleeve before a hand closes around his wrist.

Before Seth can scream he's got his outstretched arm behind his back, face twisted in pain. Behind him is --

Joel?

The bar is almost silent. You can hear a few whispers over the blood pumping in your ears. 

"I'd get out of here if I were you," Joel hisses. He glances at you, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Are you okay? he seems to be asking. You nod. 

Seth whimpers. "Let me go," he says weakly. 

"Just gonna show you the door." Joel all but drags him through the parting crowd. 

"Jesus," someone says behind you. One of the seasonal kids. "You okay?"

"I'm taking my break." You leave the kid behind the bar to fend for himself and barrel into the back and through the side door into the alley where you always take your 15. It's one of those weird cold fall nights, just the wrong side of chilly to be here without a jacket but you left it in the bar office.

The milk carton you sit on has been turned over so you kick it back with a thud and slump down onto it. The light above the door flickers. "This shit is getting old," you say to no one. You kick aside cigarette butts that aren't yours and wonder how long you can do this. What would be next, anyway? You've got a laundry list of failed dreams and no one wondering if you're going to make something of yourself. Long nights at a bar you care about more than you should and rowdy customers and handsome men who barely say a word to you can't last forever, can it? Would anyone here even notice if you left?

The door flies open, startling you out of your thoughts. 

Joel steps into the alley. Somehow he manages to yet again look like he was meant to be here and you're the one who is out of place. You blink at him and he stares back like he wasn't sure he'd find you here.

"Got lost?" you ask. "Pretty sure you know where the front door is."

He lets the metal door swing shut and crosses his arms. "Was lookin' for you."

That catches you by surprise. "Why?"

Joel shrugs, a small lift of his shoulders. His expression doesn't budge. "Sorry for makin' trouble."

Oh, right. Seth. You wave him off. "Just another night," you say. "I'd have handled it." You stand from the crate and lean against the brick wall. It's true. Seth isn't the first asshole you've handled.

"I bet you would've," Joel mutters. He takes one step closer. You're reminded all at once how good-looking he is, how you've wondered what his hands would feel like on your skin. There's no way he's ever thought of you, right? You're just some girl who pours him drinks, too young and too forgettable. He was just having a man moment, wanting to save the day or some shit like that. 

"I don't have a cigarette or anything if you want to smoke," you say. This close he doesn't smell like tobacco but you don't know what else to say. "Sorry."

"So you just sit in alleys on your break for fun?"

"I like this alley," you say, suddenly a bit defensive. "It's a nice alley." You take a step towards him. He uncrosses his arms and his hands flex at his sides. You shiver. "No one bothers me out here."

Joel tilts his head to the side. "That so?" His eyes are dark under the dim light. When did he get so close? When did your face get so hot?

"Except guys who drink whiskey on the rocks, I guess," you say. It comes out much softer than you'd like, your voice cracking. The air doesn't have the same bite as it did seconds ago. Joel's expression hovers between something you recognize and something you don't, something you desperately want to figure out. "Good thing I don't mind." The adrenaline from the small altercation hasn't left and the swirl of emotions about your whole shitty life has you on edge, has you wanting to play with fire.

You're so close now that you can feel his breath on your face, feel the heat of him in the still night. Joel's eyes rake over your face, looking for something, something you try very hard to show him so that he might fucking do it, meet the want that is suddenly uncontrollable halfway, or at least tell you if he's not interested so you can --

Your name is a groan in his throat and then he's kissing you. His palm cups the back of your head as he presses you into the wall, his other hand firm on your hip, fingertips pressing into your skin through your shirt hard enough to bruise. He tastes like the whiskey you served him. You fist one hand in his collar and wind the other into his hair.

Joel controls the kiss but you give as good as you get. He licks into your mouth and you suck on his lower lip. His beard rubs against your face in a delicious burn and when you tug on his hair he makes a noise you must hear again. The brick behind you scrapes a bit but you hardly notice when he presses against you, slides a thigh between your legs and you feel him hard through his jeans. 

"S'not right, you lookin' so good yellin' at that asshole," he grumbles into your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse. You cant your hips and he hisses.

"Speak for yourself," you manage. "Always got your eyes on me, don't you?" It feels like a risk to call him on it. Control of the situation is slipping from your grasp, this man who you never thought would actually touch you now holding you in his arms, his lips on your skin. He pulls back from your neck and smirks, eyes dark. 

"'Spose I do." 

You can work with that. You surge forward to kiss him again and this time he lets you call the shots while still meeting your bruising caresses with his own.

"Joel." You tug on his hair.

He makes that noise again.

It might be five minutes, it might be an hour. You have no idea. All you know is you can still feel his cock through the denim and you're so turned on you might combust in this alley. Or at the very least let him fuck you in it.

"I don't close tonight," you pant. One of Joel's hands has worked its way into your back pocket and the other has rucked up your shirt to rest on your bare back. 

"What?" he growls.

"My shift. I'm off at 11." You tap his watch. He glances at it and sees it read 10:30. "Half hour. I live upstairs."

For a second you think he'll say no. Walk away with a nod of his head and out of your life forever. Wouldn't be the first, wouldn't be the last. You're already breaking one of your rules by even considering sleeping with him but there's just something about him. The way he looks at you, the way his hands feel on your skin. You want to know what he'll feel like inside you. Maybe you’re still in this town because you were waiting for him to walk through the door.

"Alright," he says. He clears his throat and releases you. You fuss with your hair and straighten your shirt and he adjusts himself in his jeans. "Half hour." His dark eyes narrow as he glances down the alley back towards the street. 

"Take a walk around the block or something," you tell him, swallowing the urge to laugh at him so handsome and disheveled from your hands. Never in a million years would you have predicted that tonight would go this way. "My door is on the other side of the building. I'll let you up."

The urge to flatten the damage your hands did to his hair is so overwhelming for a second that you step away from him towards the door. His eyes follow you, expression unreadable. How many nights would it take for you to know what he's thinking? Careful, you think, or you'll be tempted to find out. 

Joel watches you until you give him a little wave and slip back into the bar. The metal door clangs shut behind you and you lean against it, knees still wobbly. Is this actually happening? Are you really this overwhelmed by making out with some guy in an alley? You check the clock on the wall and curse. Your break ended ten minutes ago though since no one came looking for you it's probably no big deal. Being mostly in charge has its perks.

The bar is a little less crowded than when you left so you grab a rag and start wiping down the bar. Joel's seat is empty, his glass gone. 

"Oh, hey," the seasonal kid says. "That guy, uh, Joel? He said to make sure you get this." He pulls out Joel's usual tip from his apron and holds it out to you.

Considering you're planning to go upstairs and fuck him until you can't walk, you don't feel like taking his tip tonight. "It's yours," you say. "Thanks for handling everything while I was out back." The kid blinks at you but knows better than to refuse, pocketing the cash and going back to loading the dishwasher. 

You finish your shift. Your blood feels electric, your skin hot. Can anyone in this bar tell what happened in the alley? You haven't felt this way about a hookup in ages. Like you were wanted, not just convenient. It's just one night, right? Maybe he'll never come to the bar again, which makes your chest tighten for a second. Maybe you're about to ruin something you don't totally understand. But you haven't gotten this far in life by worrying about shit like that, so you clock out and wave goodbye and make your way to the other side of the building. 

Joel isn't there. You unlock the door to the stairwell so you can at least wait for him inside when you hear footsteps, the crunch of gravel under boots. You fist your key between your knuckles just in case but before you can turn around you hear your name in that Texas drawl. 

"Just me," he says. You don't know if Joel Miller is capable of looking nervous but this is probably close. He shifts from one foot to the other, hands in his pockets. A thrill runs up your spine. Are you really doing this? Are you really about to bring this man up to your apartment and hope to god he does whatever you want to you? 

"Come on up." Yes. Yes, you are. You give him a smile and he follows you up to the landing. 

"S'loud," he mutters once you shut the door. The bar's music wasn't that loud when you were in it and up here it's a dull hum, people's voices and laughter slipping through the cracks like a TV left on a little too high in the other room. These days it's background noise to you but you figure Joel lives in a house somewhere with lots of land and open windows and silence. He seems like the type to like silence. 

Jacket on the hook, shoes clumsily thrown on the mat, keys in the dish. Your normal routine except there’s a man in your living room, too. He looks around the space, hands still in his pockets. You try not to be self-conscious about your place. It's small, sure, the bedroom visible through the currently open French doors in the small living room. Your kitchen is tiny, bathroom tinier, but it's all yours. "You get used to it," you say. "I hardly mind it anymore."

"Didn't say I did," he says. You both stand there for a few moments before Joel takes two big steps and crowds you against the door, one hand on your hip and the other next to your head. "Means they won't hear us." You swallow a gasp as he drags his nose along the curve of your jaw, breath hot on your skin. You were going to ask him if you could shower first since you undoubtedly smell like sweat and beer but clearly, he doesn't mind. His tongue darts out and he sucks on your pulse point, your own hands clutching desperately at his shirt. If he moves you're sure you'll melt into a puddle on the floor. "Means you can be as loud as you want," he growls. "That sound good?"

Any breath remaining in your body rushes out and you jerk your hips to make contact with the hardness in his jeans. "Yeah," you gasp. You can feel something like a smile against your neck. "That sounds good."

It's a dynamic you don't mind stepping into -- whatever this is. Every second of your life you feel like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everyone around you to get tired. Your eyes are always on the exit, always wondering where you'll go next, what you'll leave behind this time. Even when you're fucking strangers you're always wondering how you'll get them to leave. You’re better off alone. But right here, right now, with Joel's heavy scent of sawdust and whiskey and something earthy, something grounding, in your nostrils, his hands and his mouth on you, nothing else matters. Your brain shuts off and you're just here.

You grab Joel's jaw and guide his lips back to yours. He allows it and you moan deep in your throat as he tongues back into your mouth, your own trying to give as good as you're getting. He pops the button on your jeans and you help him with frantic hands, shoving them down your hips along with your underwear so he can ghost his fingers through your coarse curls. He pulls back from the kiss to watch as he drags two fingers through your folds. Your eyes lock and he smirks as your lids flutter.

"Soaked," is all he says. You tip your head forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder.

"Don't be smug."

He huffs. "I ain't trying to sound like an asshole, but --"

"Already failed." He nips at your earlobe.

"Gotta work you open a bit, sweetheart," he says. His fingers circle your clit once, ever so slowly. Your grip on his bicep tightens and you wonder if you'll leave bruises. You hope so. "Gonna be a tight fit."

"Heard -- fuck -- that before," you gasp. Joel really fucking knows what he's doing. "I -- bed?"

"Smart girl," he says. You're pretty sure you get wetter. He pulls his fingers free but keeps a hold on your hip like he knows your knees are jelly. "Sit on the edge." 

You leave your jeans and underwear behind and make your way to the bed through the French doors, sitting heavily on the quilt, knees bent and leaning on your hands behind you. Before you can say another word, Joel lowers to his knees between yours. He pries them apart even further and runs his hands up and down your thighs. 

For a few seconds, you can't find the words. This man, older than you and impossibly handsome, face lined with years he's lived and hands callused with work he's done, this man that you hardly know anything about but can't get out of your mind, is on his knees before you.

"You gonna be okay down there?" is what you come up with.

"You always talk this much?" he mutters, though his mouth tugs up at the corner. Joel's forearms wrap around your legs and he tugs. You fall flat on your back in surprise and your ass almost hangs off the bed. He draws one of your legs over his shoulder and kneads the flesh of your thigh, eyes dark and jaw twitching as he spreads you open and just looks. "Might have to help me up but I think I'll be just fine."

"Joel --" 

The end of his name becomes a high-pitched moan when he leans in and buries his face in your cunt. He drags his tongue up and down through your folds, nose catching your clit in a way that makes you squirm. His beard scrapes against your skin deliciously, leaving a sting that you know you'll be able to see evidence of when he's done. He laps at you before finally taking your clit in his mouth and sucking like his life depends on it. It's only his hand on your outstretched thigh keeping you from suffocating him between your legs, though you're not sure he'd mind.

"Should be a crime," he says. You look down the length of your body at him. His chin is wet with you, eyes meeting yours when he feels your stare. "Cunt this pretty tastin' so good."

How do you reply to that?

He's back at it before you can even try. Joel gets messy with it, the sounds of his attention loud and filthy. He tells you how wet you are, how good you taste, and your eyes flutter shut again.

"How're we doing?" 

"Don't stop," you manage. "Just, don't stop--"

He prods your entrance with one finger. "Reckon you can take it, hmm? You're so wet it'll be easy." There's a bite to his tone, a sense of amusement mixed with awe like he can hardly believe it either. 

"Two," you gasp. "I can take two." You need two, in fact. His hands are one of the few parts of him you've been able to study and you know his fingers are long, much thicker than yours and you need them to fill you up, need them to stretch you out. You need something to clench around because right now you feel like you're on the edge of the pleasure building in your core and if you don't get a release soon you'll just…just…combust. 

Joel hums but you feel a second finger nudge into you. He slides them in and curls them as he goes. Your back arches off the bed.

"Dunno," he coos. "Pretty tight, sweetheart." The slight meanness to his words is in complete contrast with the gentle, attentive way he handles you. Who knew he'd be such a fucking tease.

"Well get to work, then." He scissors the digits inside of you in reply and returns to sucking on your clit. You reach down and bury your hand in his silver-streaked hair, tugging a bit harder than you intend to. Joel just moans into your cunt, the vibration making it feel like your very pelvis is rattling as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. 

Sweat beads on your brow as you try to hold on. He picks up the pace and presses into your walls with his fingertips like he's looking for something. His tongue wreaks havoc on the rest of you, sucking bruises into your inner thighs when he's not abusing your clit. If this is just the foreplay you don't know how you'll survive actually fucking him. And he hasn't even asked you to touch him, hasn't shown even a hint of expectation. He's doing this to get you ready but based on the blown state of his pupils he's enjoying it almost as much as you are. 

"Getting close?" he asks, breath ragged. Your skin is starting to feel deliciously raw from his beard and the hook in your belly is pulling tighter and tighter. 

"Yes -- fuck -- I'm close, Joel, keep --"

His hand moves faster than before and he latches back onto your clit. Your legs start to shake and you feel your orgasm coming, it's just right there, you just need him to --

His fingers find the spot he must have been looking for and your only warning is a sharp tug on his hair and then your back arches and you come all over his face. He fingers fucks you through it and you feel it as your walls clench around him, your mouth open in a high whine as your muscles finally relax and you flop back onto the bed. Joel keeps his face in your cunt, gently lapping at your release while avoiding your sensitive clit. You push his hair back from his face and try to get your breathing under control.

He manages to get up on his own with a grunt as you pant on the bed. "Okay?" he asks. "Lookin' a little tired." You show him your middle finger and he...laughs, lips shiny with your slick. So he can laugh. 

"Are you going to keep your clothes on?" you ask him. His eyes travel slowly over your bare bottom half, the redness of your thighs from his beard and the way your shirt has rucked up to the wire of your bra. 

"Nah." He sits heavily on the edge of the bed to take off his boots and socks. You want to ask him if you can undress him, slowly peel off his layers button by button and explore every inch of him but you won't be able to take it if he says no so you just watch. Already you know you'll be thinking about this night for a long fucking time. The way it seems like he cares about how you're feeling, how he wants to take his time with you, how he enjoys your pleasure. It's nice. It's...making you feel wanted.

His denim button-up is tossed on the floor and he stands, shirtless, to undo his belt. The forearms and small triangle at his throat that you've been treated with thus far when he sits at the bar in no way prepared you for the rest of him. Broad shoulders, thick, muscled arms from years of hard work. Graying chest hair that travels all the way down the slight softness of his belly and in a darker trail his jeans. Your mouth waters. 

"You're starin'," he says softly before unzipping his fly and pushing his jeans and boxers down in one motion. 

"Taste of your own medicine." The words come out with much less bite than you intended as his cock springs free. 

Well, he wasn't lying. He is big. You knew he would be based on what you felt through his pants, but seeing it is something else. 

You sit up and scoot to the end of the bed to be closer. Is he really going to fit? He's bigger than anyone you've fucked before, that's for sure. A ruddy color, a little darker than his tanned chest, the tip a little lighter and already leaking. A few veins run the length of him and the hair at the base of his shaft is clearly taken care of though a little wild and a shade of deep brown that hasn't grayed much yet. His balls hang heavy, one slightly bigger than the other. He twitches under your gaze. You look up at him and wait for him to call out your staring again but instead, he's just watching you, pupils blown. 

"You are...so beautiful," you breathe. He makes a dismissive noise but a flush travels up his chest and to his face. It's true. There's something about him that makes you think you could look every second for the rest of your life and not get enough.

"Should be sayin' that to you." He strokes himself once and you lick your lips. "You got a condom? Should be one in my pocket if you don't." Does he always carry one? Or did he hope to get lucky with you, just like you've been thinking about him?

"Bedside table drawer." He goes for it and you remember too late that the drawer has...other things in it, too. His eyebrows raise and he eyes your small collection of toys but says nothing, though his cock twitches again. If you asked, would he use them on you? He seems like the type to be into that. But right now you need him inside you so badly you might combust.

"Can I?" He pauses before handing the foil square to you. You take him in hand and stroke him from root to tip. He makes a noise low in his throat and you lean in to trace the vein along the bottom of his shaft with your tongue. His hips twitch forward just a bit like he's trying to keep control and failing. You know the feeling. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the slightest bit salty. You kind of lose the plot for a second, thoughts of him fucking you fading with the desire to make him feel good like this, to blow him until he's moaning your name like you were moaning his.

Joel slides his fingers into your hair and you manage to take him about halfway before he tugs gently. "I'm not complainin'," he says, voice tight. "'Specially when you look so damn pretty like this. But I've been hard as a fuckin' rock for an hour and I ain't as young as I used to be, so..." He trails off.

You place a dainty kiss on his tip and pat his hip. "Another time," you say, realizing too late what you've implied, but Joel just smirks. You tear open the foil and slide the condom on as gingerly as you can but he still hisses your name like he's scolding you, that hand in your hair pulling once again just a little. You feel the arousal pooling in your gut, sticky between your thighs. 

He tugs on the collar of your shirt. "Off," he says. You're quick to obey, whipping it to a corner of your apartment along with your bra. Joel just looks for a second before reaching a calloused hand to palm one breast, thumb sliding over your nipple. "Look at you," he says, breathy, with a squeeze. "Christ."

"You gonna fuck me, Joel Miller?" You blink up at him. He swallows visibly, throat bobbing before that smirk is back. 

"Only ‘cause you asked so nicely." 

You scramble back up the bed on your hands and knees, leaning down on your elbows and presenting him with your bare cunt. "Cause I'm such a lady."

"That so?" he murmurs. He drags his fingers through your folds slowly, brows furrowed. You fist your hands in the sheets. "You want it like this?" he asks. He palms your hip, traces the curve of your ass and presses his fingertips into your skin. You wiggle at him a little. Most guys you hook up with want it like this. You don't mind being fucked from behind, don't mind being able to close your eyes with your face shoved in the sheets and just feel. God knows with a dick his size you'll be feeling it regardless of the position you're in. But part of you does want to look at Joel, to watch him, his expression, his handsome, rugged face. Feel his arms around you, feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he fucks you. See what his eyes look like when he comes. But this is enough.

"Do I need to say please?"

The head of his cock presses against your entrance in reply. You crane your neck to see as much of him as you can. He's focused on your ass with a light frown, hands resting on your hips.

"Gonna go slow," he grumbles. His gaze meets yours. "For my benefit as much as yours."

Words don't come. You're breathless and dripping, desperate for him to just get on with it. 

"Joel, are you gonna just stand there --"

He slowly, torturously slowly, starts to slide into you. The stretch is immediate, has you face down in the sheets, eyes fluttering. Each inch of painful stretch fades quickly to throbbing pleasure, a fullness that has you keening. 

You press your hips back into him but his fingers grip tighter, holding you in place. "What did I say?" he grits out. 

"Feels so good, so big," you babble. There's nothing left in your brain, your body, but this. But Joel. You have to have all of him. "I can take it, I can take your cock, I --"

"Got quite the mouth on you, huh?" he says. He keeps pressing into you, filling you up inch by inch. "Okay?" he pants. "Look at me, tell me it feels good --"

You crane your neck again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes and look at him. His own are lidded, mouth open in an "o" like he can hardly believe it himself. A flush runs down his chest and if you didn't know better you'd say he's trembling.

"Yes, I -- god, Joel, keep going, please --"

"Doin' good, sweetheart," he coos. His hand strokes up and down your spine. "Almost there. Almost takin' all of me."

He bottoms out and you see stars. You feel lips on your back, the warm puffs of his breath on your skin as he waits for you. It's a fine line between pain and pleasure and you're walking the tightrope but the stretch is delicious. You can feel every inch of him. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears and you shift your hips a little, loving it when Joel moans.

"Alright," you manage. "Move, please." His fingertips are back on your hips and give you a squeeze before he starts to drag his cock out of you. The tip of him catches the spot inside of you that makes your back arch as he pulls out and then again when he thrusts in. 

"All that work, my fingers and my tongue and you're still so fuckin' tight. Christ."

The only thing you manage to say is a litany of his name.

"Lemme hear it, baby," he grinds out. Baby. "Be so loud those fuckers downstairs hear you--"

You meet his thrusts as best you can and even though it feels so good, even though you're so full, it's not bringing you to the edge like you need. Your neck is starting to hurt from the way you're twisting to see him, your fingers gripping the sheets as hard as you can because you want to be touching him instead. But this is good, this works, maybe if you touch your clit, you'll --

You reach between your legs and Joel pulls out. You get off your elbows and turn around, almost gasping at the loss of him. "Is something wrong?"

He's frowning at you. "Should be askin' you that."

You don't know what to say. Your cunt throbs a little from being empty, the ache settling in now that he's not there to literally fuck it away. "What?"

"You stopped makin' those noises," he says softly. “The ones you were makin’ before.” You turn around and sit facing him, suddenly a little self-conscious. "Ain't gonna fuck you in a position you don't like."

"I --" You try to fight through the haze of your brain for words. "I liked it fine."

Joel waits. He just stands there at the edge of the bed and waits. 

"Maybe..." you try again. "Would on my back be okay for you?"

His eyebrows raise like he can't believe you'd think otherwise. "That'll work for me," he says slowly. "Grab a pillow." You shift back on the bed as he kneels on it, positioning himself between your legs. You hand him one of your pillows and he taps your hip. "Up." You obey and he slides it under you so your lower half is lifted a bit before he presses one leg to the side, spreading you open. He slowly bends the other so that your thigh is pressed against your torso in a deep stretch without being painful. You feel bare, exposed in a way he somehow hasn't yet achieved. 

Joel fixes his gaze on your face. "Let's try that." He strokes himself once and then leans over you, bracing himself on one hand near your head. He lines up to press his cock into you again. Faster than last time, you wince a little but you dig your fingertips into his back to tell him to keep going. He bottoms out and you immediately feel the difference, eyes fluttering shut. Before it was like he was plowing into you, like you were so full you could hardly handle it. But like this it's like he's melting into you, like there is no space between you anymore. You're full but it's not so harsh. You don’t know where you end and he begins.

"That better?" he croaks. You force yourself to look at him and find his face closer, closer than you thought he'd get, breath warm on your face. His forehead is beaded with sweat and his eyes search your face. This close you can see they’re grey, the lines at the corners deep with strain. Even like this, stuffed full of his cock, you could look at him all day.

"Move, Joel," you tell him. He takes that for a yes and starts at a punishing pace. You have no idea how he's kept it together this long, considering you've felt on the edge of another orgasm this entire time. You anchor your arms on his shoulders as his thrusts make you see stars. 

"Ask for what you want, you hear me?" His balls smack loudly against you and he presses his lips to your ear. "You ask and I'll do my damn best."

You don't know what it is -- the overwhelming sensation of his cock dragging in and out at this angle, how close he is, his words -- but you feel tears at the corners of your eyes again. You nod frantically, hands grasping for purchase on his back. 

"C'mon," Joel says. "Gotta use that mouth, sweetheart."

"Yes," you pant. "Yes, yes, Joel, yes --"

"Fuckin' perfect for me," he moans. His lips trail up your cheek, tongue catching your tears before he presses them to yours in a messy kiss that's more teeth and breath than anything else. 

"Joel, Joel, Joel --"

"Gonna come for me? Gonna soak my cock like you did my face?"

Your orgasm comes like the snap of a rubber band. You hold him as tight as you can as it washes through you, the waves almost painful as he keeps fucking you fast and hard, your name a series of broken sounds from his mouth until his hips stutter and he groans deep in his chest. You try to keep your eyes on him as you come down from your high and are rewarded with the scrunch of his brow and the slight part of his lips as he comes. Beautiful, you think. 

The room is all of sudden much quieter without the sounds of your fucking. It's just the dull sounds of Frank's through the floor and your combined panting as he pulls out of you and flops on the bed beside you. You wince this time, the soreness really settling in. Joel finds your hand and kisses the back of it in a move so unexpectedly tender you can't look at him, raw as you are already. The bed shifts and you figure he's throwing out the condom. 

"You okay?" he says. You open your eyes and find him standing at the edge, looking at you. He's holding your robe from the bathroom. You stretch and let him look. 

"Yeah," you reply. You give him a smile as you scoot to the edge and wrap yourself in it when he holds it out. "Thank you." Joel grunts. 

You go to the bathroom yourself to pee and see the damage. Hair a mess, your mascara gathered around your eyes like you've been working hard. You've got hickies forming on your neck and chest, the skin rubbed a bit raw from his beard around your mouth. You love how you look right now. 

You look like you got fucked well. And you did. 

But now you want a shower and a snack and to go to bed. 

You half expect Joel to be gone when you go back into the bedroom. You remember belatedly that you don't let hookups stay the night. Will he leave if you ask him to? If he's already left then you don't need to worry about it. A small part of you worries you won’t ask him to go.

Instead, he's sitting on the edge of your bed putting his boots on. His shirt is unbuttoned but other than that he's dressed. He looks up briefly. His own hair is going in a thousand different directions and if this wasn't a one-night stand you'd fix it for him, a hand pushing it back like you did when he was between your thighs. But things are different outside the heat of the moment. 

"You want some water or anything?" you ask instead.

He shakes his head and finishes his boot, stands and buttons his shirt. "Nah," he says. "Should just head out."

You wonder belatedly if there's anyone at home missing him. Maybe he's got a wife. Maybe he's got a life that he's running away from and into your arms. 

"Bar'll be closed by now, or as good as," you say. You spy his jacket by the door and bend to pick it up. "No one'll see you."

Joel's face does something funny that you don't quite know how to read. He takes his jacket from you and shrugs it on. "Alright," he says. 

He looks awkward in a way you didn't know he could so you throw him a line. "Thanks," you say. For fucking me. For listening to me. For making me feel good. "It was fun. See you around?"

His expression softens. He steps close and gently holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger before kissing you once, firmly but chastely compared to what you were doing before. 

"See you around," he says. And then he opens the door and disappears down the stairs. 

You hear the outer door close and only then do you let out a breath. Your entire body feels like you just spent hours at the gym. But your mind? It's going a thousand miles an hour. You don't know what to think about first -- how Joel looked, how he spoke to you, how his hands felt. How he implored you to ask for what you wanted, how he made you feel good because it made him feel good. How you desperately, desperately want to see him again, to know him in every possible way. How you want him to walk back up the stairs and hold you until you fall asleep.

And that's not how you expected to feel. It's not how you should feel after a one-night stand with a guy you serve a few times a week at your place of employment. Like he saw right to the core of you, like he gave you something you didn't know you needed. 

You need to get a hold of yourself. This is how it starts -- this is how you get hurt. You care. Well, you always care, but no one has to know that. You let someone care about you. Not that Joel does, but he could. 

But isn't that the one thing you want most of all? 

You sleep in the next day. There's not much that needs to be done at Frank's besides bookkeeping and inventory which doesn't take you long. When you finally make it downstairs, three Advil popped to ease the soreness of your entire body, you're surprised to find Bill himself sitting at the bar. 

He looks just as you remember, hair a little longer and a little grayer. Shit kickers and jeans, a hunting jacket and trucker hat. You'll bet his actual truck is parked around back where no one from the road can see it. 

"Uh, hi?" Bill hasn't come around for at least a year, which is making your stomach sink a little. The last time was when there was a fire because some dumbass tried to smoke inside and he wanted to make sure you weren't going to quit on him for having to throw water on the nasty curtains. 

"Heard about Seth," he says. Always right to the point, this guy. He's drinking what looks to be Coke with a lemon. "Sit." You do as he says. So much for bookkeeping.

"Yep," you say. You have no idea where he heard it and know better than to ask. "No big deal."

"I want to retire."

What? "Do you...work here?" Bill appreciates honesty and he's the kind of asshole that respects you if you're an asshole back. 

"No," he says. "But I own the fuckin' dump. And me and Frank want to retire."

"There's a Frank?"

"My partner, dumbass. Keep up."

You were already groggy and still muddled from last night but this is forcing you to bring everything into sharp focus. Bill wants to retire. Which means he wants to...

"So my options are to sell this dump or find someone to take it."

If he sells the bar you're shit out of luck. No way another owner would let you live upstairs the way you do for next to nothing and let you work here and run the show. This is...a lot to take in.

"Are you listening to me?" Bill says. You blink a few times. 

"No," you admit. "Can you say that again?"

He sighs. "Do you want it?"

"The bar?" you ask incredulously. 

"No, idiot, the dumpster out back. Yes, the bar." He raps his knuckles on the bar top. "You could keep everything the same. It's just paperwork, really. I'll just give it to you. God knows a young person like you could make it nicer, turn a better profit." He says it like it's an insult. 

"Are you fucking serious?" This goes against most every rule you've had for yourself for the last who knows how long. Don't get attached, keep moving. No one really needs you so you can disappear whenever. You haven't gotten bored yet, haven't gotten restless, but you know it'll happen. There's no way you can do this forever. But owning a bar? That would make you stay. You'd have no out. You’d have to let yourself be seen, let yourself be needed. You’d have to commit. You’d have to not fuck it up.

"Why not?" he shrugs. "I know you said it was temporary back when you moved in, but you practically run it."

He's right. Everything is temporary for you. But would sticking around be so bad? Would trying to actually make a life for yourself, have a home base, a thing you care about be the end of the world? And then there's Joel...No. Not going there. 

"I..."

"Either you take it or I shut it down." Bill gets off his stool and looks around. "No one cares enough about it to try to sell it."

"Then why me?"

"Do you care about it?" he asks. His piercing stare pins you to your stool, compels you to be honest with him where you're rarely honest with yourself. 

"Yeah," you say. "I do."

"Then there's you're fuckin' answer. I know you do. You clean the shit out of this place and train the seasonal dipshits and learn the names of the fuckin’ drunks and live upstairs and make this a good place for good people to come. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice." It's possibly the most words Bill has ever said to you in a row. 

"Can I...think about it?"

He shrugs. "Sure," he says. "Not too long, though. Gotta decide by the end of the year. Maybe earlier."

That gives you three months, give or take. To figure out what the fuck you're going to do.

With one conversation Bill has shattered your entire life here. Now there’s actually a timer on it, this little piece you’ve carved out and started to enjoy. Could you make it a real thing? Could you finally admit to yourself that this is what you want – to be wanted? To be needed? To have something that’s yours?

The bar door shuts and you realize Bill has left you alone with your thoughts. You shift in your stool and a wave of soreness rolls through you from your core. 

You thunk your forehead on the bar. “Fuck me,” you say to the empty room. 

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

[yan-lorkai]

Since I checked that suggestive fic are fine could you write one for Jamil where reader has been pining for him for a long time but he is hesitant since he has Kalim to take care off and can't slack off or smth

Ignore if you want :) and sorry if I overlooked a rule!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I've made you wait quite a bit, darling, but I finally finished writing this ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾. Though I let it end in a happy ending, originally it was going to end in a more bittersweet way. Either way, I hope you like it!

You had always known there was something about Jamil that captivated you, pulling you in with each passing day. He was more than just the stoic and responsible figure that stood in Kalim’s shadow. He was hardworking, kind and always reliable, traits that only made your heart ache with longing. For so long, you kept your feelings hidden, knowing he carried more responsibility than anyone should, but tonight, something in you snapped.

You watched Jamil move through the courtyard, his shoulders slightly hunched from the weight of the day. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to tell him how you felt, even if you knew there was a risk he might push you away. He needed to know that there was he could lean on.

"Jamil," you called out softly, your voice barely carrying across the courtyard. His steps slowed, and he turned toward you, his usual unreadable expression in place.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice steady but his eyes filled with that quiet exhaustion you had come to recognize.

You swallowed, nerves threatening to choke your words. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Jamil raised a brow, stepping closer. “I’m listening.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gathered your courage. “I, uh… Well, Jamil, I like you. A lot. I know you’re always busy, taking care of Kalim, and I know how hard you work, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way. I've been holding onto those feelings for a very long time.”

For a moment, there was silence. Jamil blinked, visibly taken aback by your confession. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to hesitate, his brows furrowing in deep thought.

You pressed on, feeling your chest tighten. “I just wanted you to know. I know you have a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to be a burden, but I had to tell you how I feel.”

Jamil exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he watched you. He looked like he wanted to say something, but again, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to pull him back.

“It’s not that I don’t…” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t afford to get distracted right now. Kalim needs me. I can’t let my guard down, even if it’s for something — someone — I care about.”

Your breath hitched at his words but before you could respond, a familiar voice broke through the tension.

“Oh, come on, Jamil!” Kalim’s voice rang out from behind the nearby fountain, startling both of you. He stepped out from behind the marble structure with a wide grin, looking between you and Jamil like this was the best thing he’d ever witnessed. “I knew you liked them too! You don’t have to worry about me so much!”

Jamil’s eyes widened in shock, a flush creeping up his neck. “Kalim — what are you — how long have you been listening?”

Kalim waved off Jamil’s question with a laugh, completely unbothered. “Long enough! I wasn’t spying, I promise, but I heard some of what you said. Jamil, you work so hard, but you’re allowed to be happy too! I can take care of myself sometimes, you know.” He grinned, glancing at you. “And besides, I think they’d make you really happy, they always looked at you with such adoring eyes!”

Your heart fluttered, unsure of what to say. Kalim, in his usual cheerful way, had just dismantled all the walls Jamil had carefully built around himself.

“Kalim, it’s not that simple,” Jamil muttered, still looking flustered.

Kalim crossed his arms, his grin never fading. “It is that simple! You deserve to have someone who cares about you. I’ll be fine! And, you know, I kinda already figured you liked them.”

Jamil looked down, clearly battling with himself, but Kalim’s words seemed to have chipped away at his resolve. He glanced back at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of uncertainty and… something else.

After a long pause, Jamil let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I do like you. More than I’ve wanted to admit,” He finally said, his voice soft but sincere. “But I’ve always been worried that if I let myself have something for me, it’ll somehow mess everything up.”

You stepped closer, your heart swelling with hope. “You won’t mess anything up, Jamil. You deserve to have something for yourself, too. I’m not asking you to change anything — I just want to be there for you, like you’re always there for everyone else.”

Jamil looked at you for a long moment, and finally, his tense posture relaxed. He exhaled deeply, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe… you’re right.”

Kalim clapped his hands, clearly thrilled with the way things were unfolding. “See? This is great! I’ll be fine, Jamil. You two go ahead and be happy together!”

Jamil shot him a look, but there was no real bite behind it. Instead, he turned his attention back to you, his eyes softening in a way you’d never seen before. “I can’t promise I’ll always get it right,” he murmured, his hand reaching for yours. “But I’ll try. If you’re willing to put up with that.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth as you took his hand. “I’m more than willing.”

As you stood there, hand in hand with Jamil, Kalim grinning like he had just orchestrated the happiest ending possible, you couldn’t help but feel that, maybe, everything had finally fallen into place.

[wings-of-ink]

Ok on a scale of one to ten how good are the RO's at cooking/baking? What's one thing each of them can cook/bake really well and one thing they can't cook/bake at all?

Oh, I love this question, Anon. I'll score baking and cooking separate. Some people, like myself, have a knack for cooking over baking. One is an art and the other is more of a science, I think.

On a scale of 1 - 10 with 10 being the best baker or cook, I'd say...

Oswin:

Cooking: 7 - He's made a lot of his own meals since he was a teen and he's learned a lot. Makes a mean roast with lots of veggies and fresh herbs. Don't ask him to prepare eggs - he never gets them right.

Baking: 6 - He can follow a recipe well enough, but is less confident. Makes a very good and simple bread to go with his roast. He always over-mixes cake batter.

Zahn:

2 for both - "What fire?" They get by making suuuuper simple food on the road. Baking a potato or making a simple porridge is probably the best you're gonna get. Everything else...is risky.

Duri:

Cooking: 4 - They can do it, but don't have a ton of interest. If it's not interesting - meh - they don't care enough. They'll cook a decent steak (as long as it's rare). They try roasting veggies sometimes and they always...kinda go on fire, but they insist that they like the char taste.

Baking: 4 or 6 depending on the day. They really like baked goods, so they have incentive. If they can focus and take their time on a simple recipe, you may be looking at some tasty treats. However, they'll be prone to frustration. The moment the dough doesn't behave - it's over. -Will make some pretty good cookies. Duri cannot make bread to save themselves - the dough drives them insane (and it's all over them, the counter, and the walls for some reason).

Rune:

Cooking: 3 - uninspired, no flavor, not enough salt - but looks great. Nothing they cook comes out especially well or bad since it's all basically the same.

Baking: Solid 7, maybe even 8. There's a pattern to baking and that suits them the best. Quite good with cake, especially if it needs decorated. Their worst is pies - fruit doesn't belong in there, they say - why would you even want gooey-squishy fruit with pastry!?

???:

Cooking: 6 - he's pretty average here. Makes decent stews and fried fish. Bad with potatoes - never gets the salt right and their either over done or raw.

Baking: 10 - no soggy bottoms here - he's an amazing baker. This is an area he can get lost in. The smell of yeast takes him home. He makes the best bread - any kind - it's his favorite. (bread is also easily transportable within pockets) His weakness, if you can call it that, is probably cookies. They are still delicious, he just doesn't have the patience to make little individual treats. You're getting one giant cookie and that's that.

Thank you for the delicious ask, Anon! ^_^

[dinogoofymutated]

I've seem nothing on Gladiator and I NEED CONTENT PLZ!! I'd love seeing him go to Earth with his preaching "humans are crazy, useless, etc" and then just falls head over heels for a Mutant. Like he acts stoic and all but he's just smitten and what that would look like

SFW! Gladiator/Fem! reader! I want you to know that this ask has had me in a CHOKEHOLD!!! Parings where couples are opposites like this have my heart. I know I usually try to make my fics and headcannons Gender neutral, But i was listening to the waitress soundtrack when an idea for this hit me and I couldn't help myself. This might actually be a contender for my Favorite fic of the week! -Ps- for anyone wondering about my finals, I've done good so far? I don't wanna jinx it tho. eesh. TWS: Kallark be kinda judgy at first. Mutant discrimination, Building fire. Violence, head injury.

Kallark does not like earth. He can't say that he had ever enjoyed his brief visits there, but if the empress commanded his presence on the planet, who was he to refuse?

He respects Professor Xavier, although he doesn't necessarily agree with him. The X-men, although his allies, he does not care for very much. He thought them a little foolish, and was not interested in many of the things they invited him to experience.

As fate would have it, the one thing he had eventually agreed on was going to a Terran diner. He thought it was a little greasy in some spots, and didn't understand why anyone would want to be able to order breakfast food 24/7, but he assumed that there had to be a reason the team enjoyed going here so much.

Turns out, it wasn't just any Diner. This was one of the very few places that catered to mutants, although it wasn't advertised as such. Rouge had excitedly told him that he would "Just love" the waitress that would be serving them, a mutant in her own right.

He obviously hadn't believed forming deep emotions as such was possible in a short time span, but then again, he hadn't met you yet, had he?

Kallark was absolutely taken by you the moment you met. It didn't make any sense to him. How was he so infuriatingly, naively taken by simple Terran? A mutant nonetheless? He had met a handful of Terrans, all of which had been either crazy and idealistic, or scumbags and bastards. But you? He just didn't understand it. He thought for sure that you had to have some sort of power over him. Some bewitchment or spell that certainly had to be related to your genuine smile, or lighthearted laugh.

He was in trouble, and he had to find out why.

"Back again I see!" You chirp, smiling brightly at Kallark as you lead him to a booth, the only seat where he really fit due to his stature and build. He nods in a greeting, following you to his seat quietly. He visited the diner often after that initial time here with the X-men, always seeming like he had a lot on his mind every time.

To be honest, you enjoyed seeing him. He had become a regular of yours, and commonly came into the diner during the graveyard shift. He always sat in your section, being polite and patient with every order. You were sure he'd be tired of the greasy food by now, having tried just about every item on the menu, but here he was. Part of you wants to believe he comes in to see you specifically, blushing at the thought. Of course, you were just about always here, preferring to take late-night shifts as that was usually the time Mutants would come and visit. You made the diner a safe space for a lot of people, and that was a fact you took pride in.

Kallark is quiet every time he comes in, simply telling you what he would like to eat, and thanking you when prompted to do so. Sometimes he would speak more, asking questions here and there, but conversation was usually barren, consisting mostly of a comfortable silence between the two of you. Today was similar. It wasn't until you gave him the check that he asked you a question you didn't quite expect.

"What do your mutant powers consist of, exactly?" He asks. It's a simple question, but you cant help but blush at the sound of his voice- finding it unfortunately attractive. You try to shake it off, smiling at him politely.

"What, is this an interrogation? Hope you're not here to arrest me, Officer." You joke. He doesn't laugh, and you cringe at yourself a little bit. "...Maybe it's best if I show you." You settle on instead, walking over to the glass desert cabinets. Kallark watches you closely as you carefully cut out a slice of a creamy lemon pie, and plate it. He cocks an eyebrow at you as you bring it to the table, and hand him a fork. He does not understand where you are going with this exactly, but he takes a bite anyway.

A feeling of elation takes hold of him, happiness to an extent he's not sure he's ever felt before. You watch as his face shifts, giggling at his pure confusion.

"It's not drugged, I promise. My powers aren't exactly the most useful in a fight, but I can say that they pack a tasty punch." You wink. "It's all about the energy I put into something while I bake. If I want breakfast muffins to make people more energetic, it does. If I want a slice of lemon pie to make people happy, well," You motion at the pie, smiling brightly.

"So you do this with the other food as well?" Kallark asks. You shake your head.

"Ha! No. I'm not very good at cooking. everything else on the menu is made by Terry, our nightshift cook." You nod towards the kitchen, where Kallark can see a green-skinned mutant mutant pass by the open door briefly. He furrows his brow. He really though he had it for a minute, thinking that he had fully figured out where these emotions for you had come from, and yet he had still fallen short.

"You know, you've never had one of my deserts before, have you?" You think out loud, humming. Kallark has the same conclusion. He did agree that the pie was certainly very good, but it did little to explain the fast-paced beating of his heart. He finishes the pie before he leaves for the night, and to your surprise, he waves you goodbye when he does so. He's never done that before, and you find yourself blushing again.

"Are you blind?" You startle at the voice, turning around to see Terry leaning against the serving window. You put your hands on your hips, shaking off the surprise.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You scoff. He lets out a laugh, and walks back into the kitchen. You lean after him. "Seriously Terry, what do you mean by that?!"

The longer Kallark stayed on this planet, the more he started to feel like a lovestruck fool.

He was coming to see you just about every night at the diner, picking up conversation with you more often than naught. He wasn't used to Terran courting customs, and he certainly wasn't used to the way you captivated his mind so often. That wasn't to say he wasn't trying, he just didn't really know how to show you this strange affection of his.

That was until he returned to the diner one day to find it trashed, glass windows shattered, kitchen actively burning. And worst of all, you, injured and in need for a rescue.

The night had started off so well that you feel like a fool for not knowing the other shoe was going to drop.

The diner had been a safe zone for so many for so long, it was only a matter of time before someone caught on to the many mutants who called it haven. A group of rather conservative folks had come in around midnight, Not giving anyone a minute of warning as they shattered the windows and stormed into the back to find Terry, presumably. You had dove for the emergency button, but was tackled and forced to the ground before you could. The few mutants that had been eating had scrambled, fighting tooth and nail to escape. You hoped that a few did, but your head had been slammed into the ground so hard you couldn't see straight. You're having a hard time thinking over the pain you are in, the screams from the customers, the smell of smoke that had started to travel through the air. You feel a few tears slip down your cheeks as the diner lay in ruins.

The weight on top of you lifts abruptly as a great gust of wind sends the man above you flying into the counter violently. You feel like you can't lift your head to see what's going on, but there's a commotion of yelling and the sounds of bodies being slammed and incapacitated. When you manage to open your eyes, you flinch as another one of the men goes flying past you, smacking sqaurely into the wall and falling limp to the ground.

A pair of familiar boots step into your view, and you find yourself being helped up by Kallark. You have to hold onto him to steady yourself, head aching with every movement as he helps you stand. It only takes a glance around you to see that he had rescued you right on time- the diner, not so much. You sway a little, and Kallark is quick to catch you.

"You're certainly the gentleman, aren't you?" You laugh. Kallark furrows his eyebrows as one of his hands gently probes the back of your neck and skull. You wince at the feeling, and he draws his hand away.

"You have a concussion. We should get you some medical assistance." Kallark says. If you weren't mistaken, You'd say that he almost looks concerned. You shake your head at him regardless.

"Hospitals don't take care of mutants around here." You say, frowning. "Most of the time I just suck it up- but I don't think that that's the best idea right now."

"You'd be correct." Kallark hums. "I'll get you to Xaiver, but it would be wise for you to try and stay awake in the meantime." You smile at him, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he picks you up into a bridal hold. He looks at you, wide-eyed for a moment, before he's off. He sincerely hopes that it's not possible for your kind to hear just how fast his heart is beating inside his chest.

"Thanks, Handsome. I owe you one."

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 2

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Eventually Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

In jest, I quietly blamed Dr. Miller for wanting to fall asleep in the second class I was taking at the University the following evening. Dr. Stevenson did not have the immediate, gripping hold on me the way Dr. Miller did. Not only was I exhausted by the time the five o'clock class rolled around, but I was constantly comparing this stodgy, mundane individual to all of the lively traits his coworker possessed. It was unfair really.

I had made it, however. I managed to get through to seven o'clock without rudely letting my head fall flat on the desk in the stuffy, thermogenic confinement in the University's basement.

“Get me out of here,” I whispered to myself as I crossed into the hallway. My eyes sought out the stairwell at the far end of the corridor, though when the elevator doors swung open as I passed by, I couldn't resist the free ride.

A small group of students piled out, each on their own individual device and not seeming to care if they were in each other’s company or not. I felt for my own phone in my jacket as I entered and turned to hit the “1” button that glowed a pale yellow.

“Hold on..” A hand snuck its way in through the large, steel doors that threatened to close, and I stepped farther to the side to allow the stranger to enter. Only it wasn't a stranger - not really.

“Oh..” The one syllable left my mouth when I recognized it was Dr. Miller who was now standing beside me as the doors closed. The word was entirely misplaced and I knew I wouldn't have said that if any other human being had accompanied me on the elevator right then. Except maybe John Stamos.

“(Y/N), right?” His voice was made for phone sex.

The fact that I had that thought even remotely in the most hidden depths of my brain made me blush. I even contemplated what was wrong with me.

“Right.” I gave a small, closed-mouth smile and attempted to mind my own business.

“Who's class did you just come from?”

“Umm..” I drew a blank. His presence, and my instant attraction to him, took me completely off-guard. “Uhhh..” When my eyes lifted to hit his, I could tell there was amusement that lingered behind the surface. “Dr. Stevenson.”

“Mmm..” It was an obvious mutter of disapproval, though he didn't dare elaborate as he subtly rolled his eyes along with the brief, fleeting response.

“My thoughts exactly.” I gave a laugh and looked up at him again, shoving my hands into the pockets of my black, L.L. Bean winter coat. I hoped by agreeing to his subtle denunciation I didn't come across as the prissy, know-it-all type that undermined authority figures.

When the little bell chimed, indicating we had reached the first level, I wanted to make some excuse to stay there. There was nothing logical. Once the doors opened I would have to get out. Still, I wanted so badly to carry on a conversation with Dr. Miller. At the same time there wasn't one worthwhile conversation starter I could think of.

I opened my mouth to speak again but then quickly went with the generic, “I'll see you tomorrow in class.”

Dr. Miller gave a nod and I crept out of the elevator with a deliberate reluctance that I couldn't prevent. A look over my shoulder showed the elevator doors closing again and Dr. Miller’s figure was slowly stripped from my view like an actor on a stage at the final curtain.

I could breathe again. For a second. It suddenly dawned on me that I had never revealed to him my name.

(Y/N), right? I relived the simple, half-a-second question he had asked over and over again in my mind until it transformed from a quintessential expression to a resounding shout.

He has a class list, I reminded myself. With at least forty-something students, I added.

There was no way he could have known who I was without a little investigation. The thought flattered me. Surely, others might've been a bit uneasy over the revelation but not me. Not right then.

There was an unwilling pull at the corner of my mouth that I tried to fight off, though soon a wider grin made home on my face. I still stood there staring at the elevator for a moment and realized the down arrow was glowing.

Down. I stood there for a moment. Dr. Archibald had gone back down where he had just come from. Had he simply taken the elevator ride to…

I couldn't even finish the thought with any sort of realistic element to it.

Cocky, aren't we? I knew there wasn't a chance he had taken the elevator up one level and back down simply because I was on it. He most likely forgot something and went back down.

Big metal butterflies had suddenly made home in my stomach. I was so modest that I yielded any possibility that this could be true. Through my own eyes I was so incredibly customary that someone couldn't possibly want to go out their way to find out more about me.

I wouldn't mind him stalking me. The fact that this was my first naturally-occurring thought had to say something. The palpitations knocked at my chest cavity again and I swallowed hard as the down arrow suddenly stopped glowing.

Of course this was the thing, in all of my exhausted glory, that kept me awake again that night.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @grogusmum @amyispxnk

[chuuyrr]

Hello I would like make a request for BSD x Gojo! Reader, with the “Decay Of Angels” if you don’t mind.

In a story where all of the Mans in the “Decay Of Angels” (excluding Fukuchi) being fanboys to Gojo! Reader. Just like Miwa Kasumi being a fangirl to Gojo Satoru.

Make it separate please. Thank you 😊

paparazzi

bungou stray dogs x gojo! reader

masterlist of infinity

╰➤ CW(s): spoilers for bungou stray dogs, crack-ish and slight ooc! decay of angels (i don't really write for them)

╰➤ SYNOPSIS(s): a terrorist organization that specializes as a murder association can't help but take their eyes on the strongest ability user, or in which they simp for you.

╰➤ PAIRING(s): fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol, sigma (separately with different scenarios)

excluding bram stoker and fukuchi as well because i honestly don't know how to write for them. also, i'm still quite new in writing for fyodor, nikolai and sigma, since i'm still catching up with the manga. despite them acting like miwa, i still stuck with their actual characters, but hopefully it's ok ! also, thanks for requesting anon dear ♡

being gojo [name], it's no surprise that you're quick to swoon people, may it be guys or girls.

one of their favorite things to do is literally gathering information and analyzing your every move. probably creepy, but not only were they keen on convincing you to join them, they really just wanted to see and adore you upclose, and when they do, may it be from a far in camera or personally, they're losing it in the inside.

apart from possessing sugawara michizane's six eyes and the limitless ability that makes you the strongest ability user alive, you're very charismatic person, and the decay of the angel is no exception to that. the instant they found and learned about you, they were stoked. they instantly became your biggest fans, despite being a terrorist organization that specializes as a murder association.

nikolai gogol !

nikolai is a die-hard fan of yours. he's head over heels in love with you, and he's a lot like miwa kasumi. he gets all giddy and excited as soon as he sees you, but unlike miwa, who is discreet, he is openly expressive.

"goodness, if it isn't an angel sent from above?" nikolai's calm demeanor crumbled when he saw you. he just can't help it.

nikolai practically pushes everyone around you aside and approaches you without hesitation or shame.

you weren't even on a mission. you were simply walking around yokohama by yourself when you were approached by a white-layered haired man dressed as a circus ringmaster. you watched as he pushed the man next to you away without hesitation before bowing with his hand to his chest and lifting his hat in respect.

"gojo [name], it's an honor to finally see you in person!" nikolai exclaimed a little too enthusiastically and theatrically.

behind your black round sunglasses, your eyes widened slightly. oh, how peculiar. he already recognizes you. perhaps a stalker? well, it's nothing to be alarmed about. you're type of person who eats death threats from higher-ups for breakfast—this was not actually a big deal, so you went along with it.

you proceeded to hold a baffled expression as you tapped your chin in a thoughtful manner, "oh, my. do i know you, kind sir?"

"hohoho, let me introduce myself! my name is nikolai gogol. i've heard everything about you dear! you're the heir of the gojo family and i'm a huge fan," he exclaimed enthusiastically, "do you mind if i quiz you, dove?"

"quiz me?" you tilted your head to the side, practically making nikolai squeal on the inside from how charming and adorable you were up close, especially when you did that—perfect, your charms were working well on him.

"mhm! it is but a simple question," nikolai hummed and chuckled softly as he nodded.

"alright then, go ahead," you smiled at him kindly as you clasped your hands together.

"a vase is what this usually adorns. be careful as it may have some thorns! but even so, it is as beautiful as a ravishing woman like you," nikolai declared with a wink.

it was a riddle.

"hmm, vase? thorns? beautiful?" you furrowed your brows and held your chin between your fingers, thinking of an answer. you snapped your fingers as you smiled at him, "ah, a rose!"

"ding ding!" chimed nikolai happily, and with that, he pulled a bouquet of roses from his overcoat and handed it to you, which made you gasp softly as he continued, "a beautiful rose, for a beautiful lady."

"well, aren't you quite the charmer?" your lips curved into a smile as you pushed your glasses down slightly, just enough for your blue six eyes to stare at him, "thank you, nikolai!"

nikolai found himself giddy at the prospect of seeing you this close up, especially those gorgeous eyes of yours, let alone hearing his name spill from your plump lips. you were truly as lovely as a rose, perhaps even more so.

however, as soon as he saw a familiar man approaching you from a distance, his eyes narrowed slightly. it appeared that it was now time for him to flee. his expression changed immediately as he extended his hand for you to take, and in return, he bent down and kissed your knuckles as he gently grasped your hand, catching you somewhat off guard.

"it is truly an honor to see you in person," nikolai exclaimed before smiling and pulling away.

"gojo-chan!" you turned around to see ranpo running towards you, holding his hat and huffing for air as he came to a halt.

"ah, ranpo-kun! what are you doing here?" you asked, blinking.

"it's urgent. i need to discuss something with you," ranpo said, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at the bouquet of roses in your hands, "eh, were you on a date or something?"

"nope. this kind man gave this bouquet of roses to m—your eyes widened as soon as you turned around and found nikolai gone without a trace.

"what man?" ranpo raised a brow at you suspiciously.

you lowered your black round sunglasses to scan your surroundings, but nikolai gogol had vanished without a trace. despite the vast perception your six eyes provides you, you couldn't see him from a mile away.

he was really gone.

you then returned your attention to the bouquet of roses he had just given you, only to discover a small card tied to one of the roses that read,

"i apologize, dove, but i have a show to run. don't worry, we will meet again, gojo [name]."

after reading, you froze and found yourself clutching the bouquet tightly.

this card appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

sigma !

sigma, unlike nikolai gogol, is the true miwa kasumi type. he fanboys for you more on the inside than on the outside due to his casino manager reputation, aside from being a part of the decay of angels.

"it that... gojo [name]?" the young man muttered himself, surprised.

sigma noticed you from afar as a customer in the sky casino—his very own casino—due to your ever-familiar black round sunglasses and signature snow-white hair. sigma's eyes widened and he found himself bobbing his adam's apple. you weren't even dressed in your usual attire. you were dressed elegantly in a sleeveless black dress with a slit exposing one of your thighs and matching black heels.

how could he possibly have missed your name? sigma was certain he had memorized his casino's customers because he was the manager. unless, of course, this is your first time here; it has to be your first time. he had never seen you here before, and based on your information, you work for heiwa in tokyo.

you, on the other hand, were sipping a soda that had been served to you because you don't drink alcohol as you casually flirted and smooth-talked this one customer, discreetly learning about this sky casino.

it may not appear so, but you were on a mission right now. heiwa, your organization in charge of tokyo, asked you to look into any leads related to the books.

sigma followed you as soon as you finished talking with the said man; he was envious of how close the said man was to you. you, on the other hand, could not help but smile.

you got the manager of the sky casino's attention exactly as you planned.

you set your drink down, handing it to one of the establishment's waiters, and smiled as you watched sigma approach you, nearly tripping on his heels. his heart was racing and his mind was pounding.

oh my god.

you just smiled at him.

"yes?" you sweetly asked, watching as sigma gathered himself, clearing his throat as he faced you. you were making him nervous.

"p-pardon me, gojo [name]-san," he cleared his throat, "as the manager of the sky casino, i would just like to check in my casino's customers. that man wasn't bothering you, was he?" sigma asked, glancing at the man you were talking to earlier.

oh, my. well isn't he a bold one?

aren't customers in this establishment coded? hmm, the fact that this man knew your name could only mean one thing—this person is well aware of who you are, whether as a member of heiwa or a descendant of sugawara michizane, or maybe as the head of the gojo family. but you maintained your cool as you acknowledged him.

"oh, so you're the manager!" you exclaimed, resting your chin between your thumb and index fingers, "no worries. he wasn't bothering me at all. thank you for the concern. goodness, i should commend you. i'm not really one for casinos and all that gambling, but this establishment sure is accommodating and well kept in order. you seem very capable, and you even check on your customers!"

sigma's eyes widened. he was caught off guard. oh my goodness. his heart was screaming. you simply complimented him.

'gojo [name] commended me. gojo thinks i'm capable,' he thought, fighting back a flush that was forming and spreading across his face.

you were making him fall in love with you so easily. good god. just how were you doing that?

"would you like to share a drink or two with me, mr. manager?" you asked, tilting your head and using your charm. you mentally smirked as you watched sigma's adam's apple bob up and down. this guy was a big fan of yours it seems.

"only if it's okay with you though! you must be a busy man," you chuckled later, "it's just that I've been meaning to talk to you."

"r-really now?" sigma blinked profusely.

"you see, i'm from tokyo, and a colleague of mine mentioned the sky casino being a worthwhile place to visit here in yokohama," you skillfully lied, your voice smooth as silk, "so places i've never been to or heard of before really interest me, so i was wondering if i could perhaps hear of this establishment's background perhaps? i'm genuinely curious."

"i don't mind at all, gojo-san," a smile graced his lips, "it would be an honor to enlighten you,"

"really? why, thank you! you really are dependable!" you clasped your hands together.

you then gave him a closed-eye smile, which caused sigma to blush furiously, causing him to cover his face and turn away from you, pretending to cough when you opened your eyes and straightened your posture.

fyodor dostoevsky !

now, fyodor is not as expressive and open compared to sigma and, especially, nikolai. in fact, he's very discreet. fyodor is similar to miwa in that he maintains his cool and calm at all costs despite his feelings for you.

it was a moonlit, dark night. you had just finished business in yokohama and were now craving some sweets due to your sweet tooth, and what better way to satisfy your cravings than to satisfy your cravings? it is possible to get some at your favorite coffee shop even if it is late at night. you cheerfully pushed the glass doors, the doorbell chiming upon contact.

fyodor was already outside the coffee shop when you walked in, having arrived only a few minutes before you. with the decay of the angel almost always watching you and your fondness for restaurants and shops selling sweets, it was quite easy to track where you frequently went.

fyodor wasn't the type to go wherever he pleased in public, but he'd been meaning to see you up close, not just through a camera or screen.

after ordering a slice of red velvet cake and a matcha crepe cake, as well as your preferred iced coffee, you took the only available seat by the window and clutched your receipt, waiting for your order. fyodor decided to order at the cashier as well, and then he decided to look around, pretending to look for a vacant seat despite already knowing you had already taken the last one.

fyodor smiled at the sight of you, sitting on the cozy chair, your heavenly blue six eyes drawn towards the full moon outside as you leaned your head against your knuckles, elbows propped on the arm of the chair, and legs crossed over one another—such grace.

"excuse me," your eyes widened slightly. the stranger's russian accent easily caught your attention.

fyodor felt a little nervous now that you were staring at him from head to toe. he couldn't help but be swooned by how intently you were staring at him, especially when you pulled down your sunglasses and stared at him with your heavenly six eyes. you were simply stunning.

"yes?" your lips curved into a friendly smile.

"do you mind if i sit with you?" fyodor asked, motioning over the other tables that were occupied to reason.

"sure, i don't mind," you replied nonchalantly with a shrug of your shoulders, looking around to see that despite the late hour, the coffee shop was packed, making fyodor extremely pleased with your response.

just then, one of the pick-up staff members called your name, along with another, as two trays were served, "orders for [name] and fedya are ready at the bar!" the man said.

"that my order; do you mind if you stay here while i go get it?" you exclaimed, standing up from your seat, but fyodor gently grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to stay.

"i'll get yours, mine's ready at the bar as well," fyodor reasoned, giving you a closed-eye smile. you tried to object, but he shook his head and insisted, "just think of it as my way of repaying your kindness in allowing me to sit with you."

you couldn't help but crease your brows as fyodor walked away to pick up your orders. that man had an odd allure, but you noticed he was quite attractive—shoulder length black hair and sharp deep purple eyes—even his clothing choices were odd, but you weren't going to judge. you straightened your back in either case as he returned to the table, smiling as he handed you your drink and sweets.

"your name's fedya, right?" you suddenly asked.

fyodor's eyes widened slightly as something within him ignited when you said his nickname—even if he may or may not have planned it when he ordered his drink.

but, goodness gracious.

it sounded so good to hear it from you.

"no, my name's fyodor, dear," oops. there was a slip, but oh, well. you don't seem to mind the small endearment anyway. hehe.

"oh," you remarked with interest, smiling with a hint of mischief, "well, thank you, fedya."

fyodor stifled a small chuckle as he sat down on the seat across you, "my name's fyodor, dear."

"well, yeah, but fedya sounds cuter," you exclaimed as you sipped your drink, "plus, if you don't want me to call you that, you should have given your real name instead."

"well, you're not wrong," fyodor smiled and waved it away as he sipped the tea he ordered.

"you're not from around here, are you?" you pointed out, as you ate a piece of your red velvet cake, "your name and accent are russian."

"yes, i'm just visiting," fyodor replied, leaning back against his seat, his hands intertwined on his lap, "yokohama's an interesting city."

"i guess i agree with you on that," you shrugged, nodding in agreement.

as you two ate and drank, fyodor continued to converse with you. to be honest, there was nothing hidden behind fyodor purposefully bumping into you. he just wanted to see you up close and talk to you, and he couldn't help but be amused by how you're talking and hanging out with him—you knew what he was up to.

even if you were being playful and casual, fyodor could see and sense your passive-aggression, especially when he started talking about ability users and how sinful man is.

you may appear to be a charming and chatty young lady, but you were gojo [name].

he knows about you. how could he not? not when the decay of the angel had been eyeing for some time now. apart from possessing a dangerously strong ability and the six eyes altogether, fyodor even knows how you came from a wealthy family—a clan that you head—and he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

"all that self-righteous talk you're getting there, tch, not really a fan of it," you scoffed as you stirred your drink, your eyes narrowing slightly.

"but when you look at me like that with those eyes of yours, my love," fyodor murmured quietly as he sipped his tea, "i sure am a fan."

"uh, what did you say?" you wondered, tilting your head, "i didn't quite catch that."

"nothing, dear," fyodor said with a closed-eye smile and a wave of his hand to dismiss it.

[my-current-obsession]

I ask this as a Clerith fan myself - why are so many people up in arms about Tifa "lying" in her GS date? I'm not even sure what people are referring to when they say that. If it's when she denied talking to Aerith about Zack... Aerith literally lied about the EXACT same thing to Cloud and no one calls her out about it.

Obviously the context of Cloud bringing up the issue in the first place is quite different with both girls - with Aerith he's wanting to know where they stand and if he can pursue her or if he should give up. While with Tifa he's still focused on Aerith instead of the girl he's with, which makes this date and his extreme (frankly OOC) actions come across as a rebound because he feels like he has no chance with the girl he's really interested in. But that said, I interpret the lie itself as the same from both girls - they know Cloud's memory is unreliable and digging too much into the topic of Zack might make him MORE unstable, so they dodge the issue. Also maybe a secondary reason of lying to keep the mood light/romantic, instead of bogging it down with something heavy.

If it's in response to what she says after Cloud wonders about Aerith still having feelings for Zack... that's up to interpretation, I guess. PERSONALLY, I would take her responding "It's more complicated than that" as dodging the question at worst or even a soft, implied disagreement with Cloud at best. It would be incredibly easy and simple to just say, "Yes, she still likes him." That's NOT what Tifa says, even though to an extent it might be true (Aerith makes it obvious that she's fallen for Cloud by the end of the game, but she MIGHT still love Zack too. You can love more than one person at a time. It's just unclear if that's the case for her or not).

We know from the scene on the ship heading towards Costa del Sol that Tifa and Aerith wanted to talk about love and boys, but it was postponed. But it's also clear they're spending a LOT of time together trying to hash out what's going on with Cloud and generally opening up to each other as friends off-screen, so I think it's safe to say they DID have this conversation eventually. I believe by the chapter 12 date, both girls are fully aware that they EACH like Cloud romantically, but for the most part they care enough about each other as friends to put aside rivalry/jealousy.

Tifa's response of "It's more complicated than that" just feels like the honest truth to me. Does Aerith still have feelings for Zack? Yeah, maybe. But she also undeniably has feelings for Cloud. And Tifa, on a date with the man she ALSO loves, doesn't want to lie but also can't bring herself to say that whole truth (also it's not really her truth to say? Confessing for someone else is messed up in its own right NGL) when doing so would almost certainly kill her own chances with Cloud.

I honestly feel sorry for her in her date. I read the situation as her trying to be as honest as she can without quite literally triggering Cloud or spilling Aerith's secrets, while Cloud, AT BEST is acting out a role with her and being the suave hero who he thinks she wants (which is arguably true, but let's not get into whether Tifa wants the "real" Cloud here) instead of his true awkward self (thus no actual progress in their relationship is made, since everything was just an act on his part). And AT WORST is outright using her as a rebound.

Seriously, what are you all mad at HER for?

[maysonem]

You're twins?

Jo Togame x Sakura's twin male reader!1!1!

Tw: Not much just brief and BAD arguing writing! Bad grammar {For that one friend that likes judging me with my grammar so just BAD WRITING IN GENERAL}

{ Also sorry for taking so long everything got thrown at me since I injured my hand so now my hand looks weird while I also got lost in this request and side quested a bunch so it doesn't really look like an x reader>_<!! I yap a lot. IM QUITTING MY FUTURE JOB-}

Sakura and you have always been by each other sides no matter what happened, but really what went wrong in this situation it was just the same argument you always scold him about his well being how he always comes back from school with a bleeding nose and a bunch of cuts on his hands.

“Sakura you need to stop throwing yourself into fights!” you yelled at him angrily watching his every move. He didn't respond to you per usual ignoring your yelling and ranting about his own safety didn't you already know that he can take care of himself as well as you can. He abruptly stood up from the chair making you back up from him a little "Shut it! It's always about me and my safety can't you see I can take care of myself you need to stop worrying about me for once it's getting annoying!" He yelled out pointing his finger at you.

You were a bit taken back by his sudden outburst before clenching your fists "Well, it's your own fault for that! If you at least once can come back from school without any injuries I wouldn't have to always yell at you!" You yelled back at him seeing him turning his head away from you avoiding any eye contact possible.

"Do you know how I always worry about you when you're at school!? I'll never know if you come back hurt or sometimes I even wonder if you come ba—" He soon cut you off yelling out "Stop worrying about me it is as simple as that! What can you not understand!?"

"...That's all I can really remember," You said looking back down at the ramune in your hand before looking back at Togame who seemed to be dazing out.. or is it just how he usually looks? "You listening!?" You snapped at him angrily making him snap back into reality. You crossed your arms looking away from him "At least try to look like you're interested in what I'm saying!" You yelled pointing at him whilst he stood there with his usual smile.. it infuriates you and makes your heart skip a beat every time you see it.

There was an uncomfortable silence between you two before Togame decided to break it "That's basically it?" He asked tilting his head slightly that question made you snap your head back at him and glared "Of course! That's all I remember" You said slamming your ramune bottle down onto the table.

Soon enough you calmed down leaning your head onto Togame's shoulder "I just don't understand what made him think he can always just put up with fights with people like that" You said in a low volume tone before feeling him put a hand on your shoulder with a look that asks if you were alright "Don't give me that look of course I'm not alright" You say slapping his hand off of your shoulder making him let out an amused chuckle "Well, I'm just trying to be here for you" He said giving you a gentle pat on the head "What can you even do besides standing and staying silent over here!?" You exclaimed while playfully swatting his hand away that's tryna ruin your hair.

"We can meet up with a friend of mine that I wanted you to introduce for a while now," He said making you perk up a bit "Introduce..?" He nodded his head with a smile which made you think about it for a moment "Better not be a prank.. you've said that several times before!" You said poking his chest repeatedly. He let out a chuckle moving your hand away from his chest "Not a prank this time," "...Promise?" You said with distrust in him "Maybe" "I'm going to make you into a MILKSHAKE-"

The next day soon came by as you and Togame were waiting for his so-called friend still not trusting him with your heart even if he is your partner he still put up with pranks on you ever since you went to Shishitoren.

"So.. when?" You asked him getting impatient and a bit stressed about meeting the friend of his "Patience dear" He said before getting approached by- "Sakura!?" You yelled out and abruptly stood up pointing at your twin up and down. Sakura jolted up not excepting your sudden scream hearing a small 'huh?' coming out from Togame.

"You guys know each other?" He asked looking over to Sakura and then back at you "Is it.. is it not obvious." You said looking over to him while pointing at your eyes and Sakura's "Oh... Well, now I see the-" "IT WAS OBVIOUS THE WHOLE TIM-" "Pipe it down!" Sakura yelled smacking the back of your head "Oi, you shouldn't be the one saying that to me, especially with your recklessness!-" "Let's not argue alright?" Togame interrupted you slowly pulling you towards him while both you and Sakura glared at each other "Not my fault," Sakura mumbled crossing his arms and looking at Togame and back at you seeing how you two were very close to each other. Both you and Togame soon noticed he was turning red already "Are you dating my damned twin!?" He yelled out angrily pointing at Togame making him raise both of his hands up with a nervous chuckle "Well-" "How long!?" Sakura cut him off wanting immediate answers while you watched them a bit amused by how Sakura can still be a protective twin... Even if you two argued before, but that was bloody years ago!

You couldn't help but let out a laugh making both of them stop in their tracks "What are you even laughing at!?" "Maybe cause of the fact you seem protective of him even if he argued with you-" "I'm not asking you!" Sakura snapped clenching his fist "Hey, let us put this aside and catch up with things" Togame suggested. You and Sakura glared at each other and nodded hesitantly.

"I still can't accept the fact you're dating my twin." Sakura grumbled out kicking a pebble "It surprised me at first as well since who the hell knew I'd end up with... Well, someone you fought and called you Othello-" "Don't mention that!" He said clearly that he still disliked being called Othello.. who would? "Then is Sakura against our relationship?" Togame asked tilting his head making you look over to Sakura with a tiny hint of an excited look "I-.. no" He said with a red tint on his cheeks "He isn't lying that's for sure" You said poking his cheek making him swat your hand away angrily "I was never from the start!" He replied crossing his arms and calmed down a bit "How long?" Sakura asked making Togame tilt his head "What?" He said confusingly making Sakura let out a frustrated sigh "A year-" "A YEAR!?" Sakura yelled out.

After awhile of spending time with each other the day was soon starting to end. "Sakura we'll see you next time," Togame said with his hand on your shoulder "Hah..? Like I'd ever want to see my twin next time" "You're just saying that" You said pointing at him as he crossed his arms and looked away "Alright, we'll see you tomorrow Sakura-" "Whatever!" He yelled before stomping away making you chuckle at his tough persona behavior.

"Wasn't that fun.. meeting with your twin again" "He's more of a nuisance though" you said looking up at Togame with your arms crossed like usual "But can't say he hasn't changed still is the one and only... Annoying twin brother I suppose," You smiled a little before poking his chest "You owe me one, Jo!" You exclaimed before getting a kiss on your forehead from him.

"You two are almost the same yet I seem to take more interest in you."

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 15: Emily's Last Meal

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: captivity, mind control, covert brainwashing, Emily POV

Emily spent the entire afternoon curled up in a ball on her cot, wishing there were anything she could do to take her mind off of her situation. She'd like to go to sleep, even though the lights were still on, but sleep wasn't coming.

Lily had taken Oliver again, which meant the next time she saw him he'd most likely be glassy eyed and spouting pro-vampire nonsense, robbing her of the only person in the place she could at least hold a conversation with. 

Even though he was a victim as much as she was, she wasn't especially inclined to feel charitable towards him right now. She had hardly slept a wink since she'd been dragged into these cells, and the sleep deprivation had been making her especially irritable, a raw nerve that kept being poked. And last night had been the worst night at all, because Oliver had spent the entire lights-out period chanting hypnotic mantras, loud enough for Emily to hear. There had been a steady drone of "obedience is pleasure" and "no desire to resist" the entire night with only brief respites. Not only was it disruptive, but Emily had actively fought sleep, not wanting to fall asleep with hypnotic chanting softening her mind.

The vampire guards who were so quick to crack down on unwanted noises did nothing about this, of course. Emily suspected that Lily had engineered this to take down both her and Oliver at once, a two-for-one special.

It wasn't Oliver's fault, and she knew that. Her annoyance should be directed towards Lily and their vampire captors, and it mostly was. But she still very much wasn't in the mood to speak to him when Oliver returned, completely unguarded, wearing a simple white kind of frock dress and looking quite serene.

"What are you wearing, Oliver?" 

"Miss Lily gave me these clothes and let me shower," he explained. He was standing in front of her cell and none of the vampires seemed to care.

A lost cause, she thought, and hated herself for thinking so.

"And she told me to tell you that she'll be inducing you very soon."

Emily felt her mouth go dry, a cold pit of fear in her stomach. Of course, she expected this. She'd known what was coming. That didn't make it any easier.

"I know you're scared of it, Emily, but it's really not that bad," said Oliver in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring. "She didn't take my mind that much at all. I still feel like myself, I just don't have any desire to escape, and I want to obey whatever the vampires tell me to do. That's not that bad, right?"

Oh, Oliver was such a lost cause. And she was next in line.

"Are you listening to yourself? You think that wanting to obey the vampires, the vampires who kidnapped us and are holding us in prison to sell -- you think that's okay?"

Something briefly flashed in Oliver's eyes, a spark of life. "I think it's... I think it's our reality," he said. "And if we have to be here... is it so bad if they make us want to obey? It's easier, and will help us survive. That makes sense, right?"

"I don't really care what makes sense," she said. "I don't want to be a slave. I don't want a vampire erasing my free will. I don't want some monster feeding off of me -- or did they make you forget that they were going to do that, too?"

"I didn't," he said. "You're probably not going to believe me, but Miss Lily showed me a little of what it would be like, and it wasn't nearly as bad as I had imagined. I'm not sure how to explain it without sounding crazy, though."

"It sounds crazy because it is crazy. Because you're totally under their spell now. What about your bookshop? Your former life?"

Oliver's calm facade broke a bit as he looked down at his feet. "...I'm not getting those back, I don't think," he said. "I... um. Perhaps this is an awkward question, but how hypnotized am I, actually? I feel fine, but..."

"I think Lily's gotten so far in your head that you can't even tell how much any more. I'm sorry."

"...I suspected that might be the case."

"Do you want me to try and snap you out of it?"

"No. I have no desire to resist," he said, automatically.

Oh, this poor man.

She should save him. She should try to wake him up again. But she was exhausted, and knew how futile it would be. Even if she could make a dent in Lily's influence, she'd only just take him again. He was no doubt going to keep her up again all night with chanted mantras.

She felt selfish, heartless, but she'd been running her whole life. Running from her family, from her awful, alcohol soaked father, from abusive lovers, from poverty. And now it might actually be the end of the line, and she was so, so tired, and Oliver was so obviously a lost cause.

They both were. She was going to die down here in everything but the technical sense, giving her life for a vampire's pleasure. Few would miss her or even notice she was gone.

"They're bringing dinner now, Emily. I'd better get back in my cell," Oliver said. "And... I'm sorry that I can't help you. I really am."

"I'm sorry, too, Oliver."

Dinner arrived, and it was a heaping plate of roast turkey and gravy with mashed potatoes, peas, and a slice of apple pie, of all things. Imagine apple pie baked and served by vampires! It smelled heavenly and it was the largest meal they'd served yet. She couldn't help but be suspicious. 

She knew that no matter how suspicious she was, she'd cave and eat it in a few minutes at most. She'd been hungry enough in her life that she couldn't bear not to eat hot, fresh food when it was right in front of her face, especially since it hadn't been drugged or poisoned up until now. She hated herself for how eagerly she ate the vampires' prison food, cleaning her plate every time, and that it was the best fed she'd been in ages. 

This was no exception, the kind of meal she dreamed about on nights when she'd had to content herself with half a can of beans or a single mashed potato. At least if this was her last meal as herself, it was a decent one.

The lights snapped off, and she'd barely had enough time to brace herself before Oliver started up the mantras again. "Obedience is pleasure," he said, in a thick, drowsy voice. "No desire to resist. Too tired to resist. Hopeless to resist..."

Emily furrowed her brow. That seemed directly pointed at her. Lily was trying to wear her down, she just knew it. Whatever she did, she couldn't sleep tonight, couldn't let those thoughts be drilled into her brain.

She sat, and stared into the pitch black gloom, and tried to think of anything, anything at all. Old friends. New paints. A pint of cheap beer. Fall leaves. The view from the Oak Street Bridge. 

Too tired to resist...

She was never getting out of here, was she?

She was so sleep deprived, and her stomach was comfortably full, and the cells were always kept warm...

She didn't realize it when her head began to nod, her thoughts swirling into nightmares of a vampire pinning her down and drinking from her neck, draining her energy and life, all the while Oliver's voice droned on about obedience.

And she didn't, at first, realize it when Oliver's droning voice mixed with Lily's.

"Obedience is pleasure. You're too tired to resist, Emily, much too tired," said a calm and soothing voice close by.

Emily stirred. She wasn't in her bed. She was being... held? Carried. 

"Shhh, Emily, relax. Go back to sleep. You're so tired," said Lily. "And you're already under my spell. There's nothing to fight. Go back to sleep."

A nightmare? It had to be. "I'm not..." she protested, trying to wake up. Why was it so hard? She cracked her eyelids open. Lily was looking down at her while carrying her in her arms.

"Of course you are, dear. Even the most defiant human must sleep, and even the most defiant human mind is vulnerable while sleeping," she said, as though explaining to a child. "Sleep now, go back to sleep. You're too tired to resist."

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening now. She felt herself slipping back into slumber against her will, clawing her consciousness back from the brink.

"You're not going to have me," she said, fighting the haze that threatened to swallow her.

"Oh, pet, I've subdued a hundred girls like you and I'll subdue a hundred more after," she said. "Now hush, and go back to sleep."

Part Fourteen >> Masterlist >> Part Sixteen

Thank you for reading this story about Emily.

Tag list - please note if you'd like to be added

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps

[mllemaenad]

I think I need a break from Fallout 76. I swore I was going to get through it, and Tessa and I have been making good progress. My biggest complaint up until now is that they won't let you have Sofia and Beckett active at camp at the same time. I'm sure this is a resourcing issue, but Fallout 76 is such a lonely game. I get that you're supposed to play with friends, but unless you have a dedicated role playing group (and while I am sure such things exist, I do not get the impression that they are the majority) that's companionship for the player, not the character. I think Tessa, who did a lot of her growing up in a vault, would love a tiny community of her own.

But I have just slogged through Steel Dawn, trying to justify to myself why Tessa, who loves books and writes poetry and runs down the road to help out Lane and his Responders with food runs or package deliveries every day, would even be there. That's immediately followed by Steel Reign and ... I just can't. Not right now. There is no option to tell the Brotherhood to go the fuck back to California and leave us alone.

The entire first part of the quest line was "these idiots mislaid a bunch of dangerous weapons and are now complaining about other people in the region having the dangerous weapons". You know who I don't think is qualified to have dangerous weapons? The Brotherhood of Steel.

While I appreciate that "dangerous super mutant attacks", which seem to be part two and presumably have something to do with the dodgy scientist guy who showed up earlier, constitute a serious problem ... I am struggling to believe that Tessa would work with them on it. They would also kill Grahm! And Gail! Those are her friends. There are so many other people who could help deal with this, but that's not how the story goes.

So I'm going to give Fallout: London a try. It seems to be the hot new thing at the moment, and I am curious. Mods can be something of a mixed bag, and I'm hesitant to be very critical even when I don't like them, because the labour involved in some of these things ... I can just about do some simple patching in xEdit. So, you know, not really my place to criticise. But I've been trying to mod Bethesda games since Morrowind, and the worst you can say is "Why the hell did I install this? Was I drunk?" and scour it from your game.

But I have (so far) enjoyed Sim Settlements 2 and Tales from the Commonwealth. I did not take to Depravity and Outcasts and Remnants, for several reasons although the ... thing ... with Preston was the last straw (Except that they allowed you to pause your search after going through Kellogg's flat. I do not want to install that mod again ... but I sometimes think ... just for that one feature ... Emily could have a bath and a nap before tearing off again.).

Thank heavens for Mod Organiser 2. I can swap this thing in and leave Emily's load order intact.

I have named my girl Hannah, and since the premise is that you wake up in a lab with no memory of who you are or how you got there, I am going to learn about her as I go.

Initial impressions:

Wait. Is that Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy performing unethical experiments? That's ... something. Tortured by no less than two Doctor Whos.

Radshrews are terrifying. Little mice creatures should not be this hard to deal with. Admittedly with Hannah's fists since the game seems to be allergic to starter weapons.

This is not quite fair, as some guy kindly handed her a pocket knife once she crawled out of the train crash. But we are now fighting raiders with a pocket knife, and it is only slightly easier to deal with.

While Churchill is adorable, and we are keeping him, I do question his previous human's judgement. Hannah is a lost amnesiac wearing the rags she picked off the last raider she killed and wielding a pocket knife she does not know how to use. What on earth made him think she could care for a dog?

Now we need to go talk to some people called "the Thamesfolk" so Hannah can stop taking 30% more damage (Why? Just why? She can be one-shot killed by a bloatfly looking at her funny). We are about to find out how London feels about mutants, I think!

[adachimoe]

Persona Stalker Club Episode 5 "I SEES It! Adachi Edition" Q&A

These were the questions asked about Adachi on the Persona Stalker Club broadcast where Mitsuaki Madono (Adachi's Japanese voice actor) was a guest. I've seen the answers to a couple of them floating around in English before, but not all of them.

Question from "Mochi-filled Cabbage": Good evening, Isomura & Kajita! When I heard about the "I S.E.E.S It! Adachi Edition", I couldn't help myself, and submitted a question. Now, my question is: Why do Dojima and Adachi wear the same red tie? It's weird that the two of them wear a plain, bright red necktie that would stand out like a sore thumb even if they weren't detectives. Was it just a coincidence, or is there a reason for this? Answer: Dojima couldn't stand seeing Adachi wear some old wrinkled worn-out tie, so Dojima gave Adachi one of his spares.

Commentators:

"No wonder Adachi is something of a tsundere"

"Was he wearing the same tie for 10 years before?"

~~~

Question from "Loki": I have a quick question. Adachi's hobby is supposedly "revolver maintenance", but it doesn't seem like he can do things that require dexterity very well, and he's never shown actually maintaining a revolver in the story. Can he really do revolver maintenance? Answer: He does maintenance on model guns he owns at home since he can't take his police-issued revolver home.

Adachi can't take his revolver home because it stays locked up at the station. This is due to citizens stealing them from officers during the 1950s. Additionally, since he's a "plain clothes detective", he wouldn't be able to take his on the field unless he gets permission to bring it along for something specific.

~~~

Question from "Class 2-4": In a particular scene, Adachi whips out a lighter from his pocket. Does he smoke? Answer: Adachi doesn't smoke himself. He keeps a lighter on-hand in case Dojima asks for a light.

Commentators:

"Adachi is like Dojima's slave"

~~~

Question from "Hearing Madono in anime makes me think of Adachi": Adachi always calls the main characters "naive", "dumb kids", and generally looks down on them, but he's quite relaxed when it comes to Dojima, and I don't think he's ever said a bad thing about him. I want to know why Adachi is like that with Dojima. What happened when they first met? Thank you for your time. Answer: One of the reasons why is because when they first met, Dojima got him sushi so Adachi thought he was a good guy.

Commentators:

"[laughter]"

"He's like a dog"

"Dojima must have fed him uni"

~~~

Question from "1st Year in the History of Persona Stalker Club Class": In the story, Adachi buys a lot of cabbage. What did he make with all of that cabbage? (Actually, can Adachi even cook?) Answer: Adachi would cut up a fresh ball of cabbage vertically into large pieces like it's a watermelon, and have it as a beer snack with some miso and mayo.

Madono's simple cabbage recipe: "Shred some cabbage, then shred from seasoned seaweed, and mix them both with sesame oil - easy and tasty."

~~~

Question from "I want to Become a Cabbage": I always love playing Persona games! Adachi, one of the characters in Persona 4, is now a popular character. He's become Persona 4's ratings guy / crowd pleaser. That said, when you were making Persona 4, were you consciously trying to make Adachi a character that wouldn't be hated but rather adored by the players? What is the appeal of Adachi, who, despite being "egocentric" (reference to his P4U2 epitaph), has acquired a loyal fanbase? Answer: During production, we cared about all of the characters, not just Adachi. We're quite pleased to see when a character unexpectedly becomes popular. As for his appeal, that's up to you.

~~~

Insane to me that Dojima found a dog, put a red collar on it, then fed it uni and taught it how to hold a lighter!

[frostbitepandaaaaa]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

thanks for the tag @andorerso and @quarantineddreamer

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

weirdly enough.... exactly like B-- i was a young, weird little girl who wanted to live in Brian Jaques' world of Redwall so i wrote little stories of my own in that universe. shit, i could not have been older than 9 or 10. it just kind of sprouted from there.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

published fics? six. (x files, game of thrones, mad max: fury road, star wars/rogue one/andor, avatar the last airbender, harry potter) unpublished? maybe three or four more than that.

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

when i started publishing fanfic... oh my god it's been like 19/20 years now.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

write. i go through phases, of course, but i am such a picky bitch. my phases usually end up like this:

step one) i read everything there is to read based on a certain niche trope that i am in the mood for at the time.

step two) wow! that was great. what a feast!

step three) ...okay i'm still hungry and these fics didn't quite scratch this very, very niche itch i have so--

step four) *chuckles* i'm in danger.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

i feel like i've gotten a lot better at plotting and pacing. it's weird, because i never felt like that was really an issue for me before, but i've realized that until i started writing for rebelcaptain, i was heavily a 'vibes-based' writer. which i feel that i still am in many ways, but with rebelcaptain i am going back and resequencing, cutting/adding/shortening and deleting way more than i have in the past in order to maintain tension and pacing better. wether or not these things are actually improved is another matter altogether, but i feel like they are. (and is a big reason why all of my multi-chapters take forever........ sorry about that. it's me slicing and dicing my drafts). the world building aspect of Star Wars is also really cool-- wanna a certain setting? just fucking make it up! no one cares. and as a setting slut, i love this for me. <3

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

australian cattle stations.

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

i don't discriminate, but the comments that compare me to other works/creators (i've gotten Bronte, Justified, the Coen Brothers and others). those both make me so happy and so mad because how???? no way. not me. @justwandering-neverlost also left my favorite comment ever, before we were friends-- that i inspired her to be a better writer. and now look at us! she can't get rid of me! bet she regrets that. <3

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

me and my western/small/rundown town settings. you can pry that shit from my cold, dead hands. also... storms.

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

modern aus honestly. i start one in order to give myself reprieve from angst and plot and shit and all of a sudden i am having hours-long breakdowns about how this character would fit into this setting and how this character would react to this this thing in this time and all of a sudden the fluffy little modern au has grown 5000 legs and now is a hydratic millipede of hellish proportions that i have to methodically find a way to domesticate without cutting off more legs because two more grow in its place and--

10. What is the easiest type?

you want angst? pining? idiots in love? i got you.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

i write anywhere-- on my phone in my car in between appointments at work. at my desk at home. on my couch. in the bar. in my bed. on the patio. i use ulysses. i love the formatting options and just the simple UI in general. it allows you to be as organized or unorganized as you want (very unorganized in my case). as to what time... i'm trying to get better about only finding writing strides at like... 11PM on Tuesdays but alas.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

any historical au. i would love to do one cause i love research and world building and all that but... uh... see my complaints about modern aus above and you can see why i have avoided those. it's one of those 'i've never tried [insert addictive drug here] because i know that i would like it too much and it would ruin my life' sort of situations

13. What made you choose your username?

i was like 8 or 9 years old and wanted to get into a Harry Potter chatroom and everything i picked was 'already taken'. cue me just smashing two words together and never really looking back.

no pressure tags: @justwandering-neverlost @chipthekeeper @luciechat @fulcrumstardust @incognitajones

[mew-ya]

Katakuri's Support - Headcanons

SFW - Katakuri supporting G/N Reader who struggles with a problem they haven't yet opened up to him about

Katakuri is an incredibly observant person, so it's quite easy for him to notice that something is off. That said, it's not typically clear to him why you might be acting differently.

He'd make some indication that things seem a bit different about you today, but would leave it open ended, giving you the option to talk or leave it alone. He's not the most comfortable in discussing emotional matters as the king of repression himself, so he lets you take the lead.

He considers using his observation haki to test your responses to his questions of "what is wrong?" but feels guilty using his ability to gain more information out of you. He worries that he comes off too strong, too commanding, and doesn't want to scare you into feeling like you can't open up to him. He resolves to let you tell him when you're ready.

Katakuri enjoys spending quiet time next to you, so if you don't want to talk, he's more than happy to go about his day next to you in silent support. He knows how much you enjoy sitting on his shoulder, nestled within his scarf, so he'd pick you up and place you there without a word.

Actions are his love language. While he may struggle to give you words of encouragement or broach the topic of what is making your life hard, the small considerations for you speak volumes. He brings you home your favorite dessert, throws your towel in the dryer while you're showering so it's warm, places you comfortably in his lap as you watch your favorite show together and uses his fingertips to stroke your scalp. You see him researching how to bake your favorite treat, and you wonder what you did to deserve him when you're at your lowest.

At some point, Katakuri finds out what's bothering you, either through you opening up or it coming to his attention in some other form. He sees every problem as something to be solved, but relents in taking action out of respect for you--you can take care of your own problems. He will offer up his assistance in a simple, serious way, sharp eyes conveying his absolute sincerity and readiness for action, and listens to however you answer.

It may take him some time to realize this, but what you really need from him are the words that it will be okay. A uncharacteristically deep sigh comes from your chest as you lay against his side, thinking about what troubles you. Noticing, he wraps his hand around your body and pulls you closer to him. "It'll be okay."

As he comforts you, you talk to him about your worries, your problems, anxieties, emotions. A mess of words comes from your mouth about what bothers you. "It'll be okay," he repeats with a gentle smile, and he leans down to give you a kiss on the top of your head. You feel a little weight off your shoulders, and begin to believe him.

having a rough two weeks so I wanted to write myself some short cutesy comfort 😵‍💫💖 I apologize if this topic has been written to death, I just wanted to give it some thought on my own

[not-goldy]

Tumblr please bring back my update.

It was a long ass post too and Tumblr jx sweeped it under the rugs damn

So Re my gf's dialog of doom- FALSE ALARM😭😭😭

Sis jx wanted to know what I wanted to do on my birthday💀

But like why did she say it like that cos I peed pooped puked pivoted ALL THE BIG P's at the same time😭😭😭😭😭😭

Sis don traumatized me in this relationship 🤧

Anyone who knows what's been going on between us last year. weve been going through this process close to and near my birthday that ends with us breaking up- and then getting back together.

It's very simple, she missed my birthday last year ND the year before that. No post no greetings no calls nothing. So what did I do? Nothing. Didn't complain didnt ask questions. NOTHING.

And it hurt cos I used to do everything for her on her birthday to let her know I be feeling her like that- and honestly I just think it's nice to do nice things for people you care about and her birthday is jx an excuse for me to show her I care and give her experiences and moments ya know?

I don't know. May be it's my mistake I keep giving her the love I want for myself and I keep loving her in ways I never had.

Anywho, I had had enough of her analysis retentive attitude so close to her birthday, I got her all excited, called up her friends to let them know I was planning something for her. I even asked if they wanted to come cos I knew they would tell her either way. they a bunch of clowns really🤡

On her birthday, she cleared her schedule and seemed in a really good mood- I cleared my schedule too( we worked together then, she's my boss so she definitely knew I cleared my schedule that day)

Then on her birthday, I took myself out on a nice getaway staycation got me some nice lingerie pampered my back and toes, had those feet fetishized and love kissed by them cute weird freaky feet eating fishes with foot fetish, strolled through long halls naked under the robe with a glass of wine, and let my phone ring on silence.

Came back n acted like I'd been out with people and had the time of my life.

You can't stress me out and expect me not to love myself.

I'LL LOVE MYSELF ON YOUR BIRTHDAY😘

This year. I totally forgot she's a March born like I stopped caring bout her birthday n I wasn't even trying to be petty or nuin😭😭😭😭😭

I just don't care anymore 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

So when she said we needed to talk, turns out she just wanted to talk about that and call it truce cos she says she can't keep going through that year after year.

And frankly I can't either cos I be having my entire heart ripped out of my chest it be looking like a homicide inside my ribcage- but it doesn't stop me from returning the energy on her birthdays too cos I'M PETTY AS FUCK DUDE

I'm a Libra don't mess with me. I'll take the L, go through all the motions, feel that hurt and pain and betrayal and when I'm done- RUN

ILL GEAR UP AND SERVE YOU HOT STEAMING PILE OF LAVA BOILING REVENGE COOKED STRAIGHT FROM HELL'S COLD KITCHEN😌

She asked me what my plans are for my birthday and I honestly have nothing planned at all- I jx want to be quiet and alone and watch Netflix.

She's hurt cos she says I used to want to do things together with her on my birthday.

I don't know if I've changed like she says but frankly as much as I love her I don't enjoy being with her anymore.

I'd rather spend my birthday alone, do things alone- I love her want her- it's just I'm scared of another fight and yet again another break up and if us being distant is the only way we can have a semblance of a normal relationship then I'll take that.

And I'll rather have this than not have her at all.

Chilee I don't know anymore.

Also yall quit complaining bout me bringing my drama to your doorstep. Like yall have audacity hanging around my blog for free 99 and expecting relative peace and drama free services😹😹😹😹😹

Say it after me, We all in this together

Mi drama is su drama adios 😘😆

[love-iathan]

Sweet Boy

Masterlist | Seelie Key

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Character(s): Wanderer, Ei (brief)

Reader: Gender Neutral, Creator

Warning(s): Does not follow cannon

Word Count: 1681

Note(s): I wrote this on and off while I was sick, like 2 weeks ago, so it might be garbage and all over the place :)

You peacefully watched the rain storm, the downpour watering your crops. Suddenly pulled from your daydream by a knock at the door, you walked over and opened it, preparing to reprimand whomever disturbed you. Stopping in your tracks when you realised it was Ei, who was holding a much smaller boy in her arms.

"Your Grace, I've made a mistake." Hearing Ei admit to such a thing was unheard of.

Allowing her into your home, you sat at the table. "Who's the child?" You asked, gesturing to the seat across from you.

With a bit of hesitation, Ei sat down, the boy cradled in her lap. "Do you remember when I asked your permission to make a puppet?"

"I do," you replied, growing a bit concerned where this was going.

Ei's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. After a few seconds of silence, she finally got the words out. "I can't force him to be my puppet."

Cocking an eyebrow, you reached over to your teapot, pouring both of you a cup. "Care to elaborate?"

Once again, she looked like a fish out of water, trying to organise her thoughts. "Last night, he shed tears. I'd never forgive myself if I forced him to be my puppet."

Slowly gathering the main issue, you chuckled. "All of you have always had such complex emotions, whether you'd like to admit it or not." You joked, referring to her and the rest of the Archons. "You think of him as your son, don't you?"

Ei's silence said it all. "Your Grace, what should I do?" She seemed to grow more distressed as time went on.

"Well, you have a few options. 1, you can keep him, raise him, not as a puppet, but as your son. Create a new puppet using what you've learned making him. 2, let fate decide what should happen to him."

"Do you mean abandon him?" She asked, almost panicked, forgetting her manners. With a gasp, she whispered, "my apologies."

"Or, 3, let him be your puppet, as originally planned, and let him prove his worth."

Ei sighed, looking down at her puppet. "It's not that he isn't worthy, Your Grace." She trailed off, uncomfortable with needing to make this choice, wishing you'd just do it for her.

"Ei, I know this is a difficult decision for you to make, but I cannot make it for you. I also can't take him," you sipped on your tea. "Me taking him would be equivalent to creating another Archon, which could potentially lead to a 2nd Archon War. I'm sorry dear Ei, but I cannot risk that."

Ei sighed, knowing you were right, asking you to take on the boy would be disrespectful.

Walking around the table to stand next to her, you placed your hand on her shoulder. "Drink your tea and give it some thought. You both may stay here tonight, I hope you have your decision by tomorrow."

The next day, you saw Ei in the same spot you left her last night, although the boy was sleeping on the futon in the living area. Despite her not needing sleep, she had dark bags under her eyes, as if she'd been up for days. "Ei, are you alright?"

Startled by your question, she jumped, "yes, my apologies, Your Grace. I've just been thinking about what I should do."

"Well, it's still quite early, how about we eat something and then we'll discuss your options more in depth."

With a quick nod, you began making something simple. Dishing out 3 portions, you set Ei's in front of her, one in your spot and the last at the end of the table. You walked into the living area, slowly approaching the still sleeping boy.

Kneeling down, you gently shook him awake. "Sweetheart? Wake up, you should eat something." Being this close to him for the first time, you really noticed the resemblance between him and Ei.

The boy slowly opened his eyes, the same purple as his mother. "Hello." He said meekly.

You smiled, taking his hand. "Come over here, eat with us." He followed you, visibly relaxing when he saw Ei, a familiar face. Gesturing to the table, you sat down, waiting for him to sit as well. Ei sat in silence, staring at her plate. "You may eat, now."

Ei picked up her cutlery, eating in silence. The boy looked between you and Ei in confusion; as far as he knew, Ei was the most powerful being alive. So why did she only begin eating after you allowed it? Who exactly were you, and why did Ei seem on edge around you? Almost scared of you.

"All of your questions will be answered in due time." You affirmed, seemingly reading his mind.

The three of you ate in silence, although questions raced through his head. Would it be rude to ask them? If you were so powerful, surely you'd punish him for speaking out of turn. Deciding to keep his questions to himself for now, he finished his food, opting to look around himself.

Taking in his surrounding, he was startled to hear Ei's voice. "Your Grace," although her voice was barely above a whisper, you looked up from your plate. "I believe I've made my decision." She trailed off, quickly grabbing a cup, which he assumed was water and downing it.

You smiled at her. "Wonderful. We will speak about it later."

The boy, now known as Scaramouche, was abandoned by his mother, his creator. His last "happy" memory with her was the night he ate with you both. Scaramouche grew to despise you as well. He believed you'd been the one to convinced Ei to leave him, abandon him.

If you created Teyvat, knew everything that was going to happen, and had the power to change the course of history, why didn't you change his destiny? Why did you knowing allow Ei to abandoned him? It didn't make since to him. While still the innocent and curious kabukimono, he'd hoped that you'd come looking for him and take him to your home.

As the days past him by, he'd realised he wasn't wanted, so he gave up, the last of his innocence leaving him when the young boy betrayed him. His heart grew cold, leaving Inazuma, and the pain it cause him, behind.

Centuries later, you heard news from Sumeru that the Akademiya's Sages were attempting to create an Archon, using none other than Scaramouche. Having rarely left your home since his creation, you didn't know that Sumeru didn't have an active Archon, so when you arrived to aid the blonde traveler, you didn't recognise the small God.

After Scaramouche's defeat, you spoke to the Archon and traveler, learning their names. The traveler told you everything they knew up to this point, about Scaramouche, his life as the Balladeer, and the Sage's plans. "Neither of you need to worry about him, he'll be fine. Nahida, would you mind keeping an eye on him? He's going to be quite weak when he wakes up. I'll come collect him once he's awake."

The Dendro Archon agrees, with a bit of hesitation, understandably so; the puppet had just tried to overtake her position as Archon. When Scaramouche finally woke up, Nahida called for you to collect him. While he was still delirious, he recognised you immediately, trying to get away from you.

Seeing him, you sauntered right up to him, taking his face into your hands gently. "Ah, you've grown so much. I just wish your life hadn't gone down such a dark path."

Irritated, Scaramouche slapped your hands away. "If you're so sorry, why didn't you stop it from happening?" He shouted, turning his back to you.

"It was too dangerous. I wouldn't have been able to ensure Teyvat's, or even your, safety." You turned him back around, one hand on his shoulder. "I remember the night Ei brought you to my home; you were so innocent."

The words felt degrading, yet somehow warm. "Why did you let her abandon me?" His aggressive tone shifted to a vaguely vulnerable one, his voice wavering ever-so slightly.

With a deep breath, you pulled him into your chest, listening as he struggled to hold back tears. "Ei was very attached to you, even though it only been a few days. She didn't want you to be forced into a life of servitude, but she didn't want you to feel as though you'd been replaced."

"I don't... I don't understand," he mumbled.

Running your fingers through his hair, you pulled him tighter against you. "I'm sure you know you were created to be Ei's puppet, but the night before she brought you to me, you cried in your sleep." You rested your chin on his head. "She was worried that, that if she went through with her plan to make you her puppet, you'd be unhappy."

Scaramouche continued to try and push you away for a few minutes before giving in and crying into your chest. "Why was I not good enough?"

"Oh, sweet boy, you are more than enough. That night," you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, "Ei and I wanted you to decide your own fate, let you forge your own path through life. Had I known she'd leave you alone without talking to you about our decision, I would have intervened."

"What?" Confused, the ex-Harbinger pulled away from you.

Wiping the stray tears from his cheeks, "I didn't learn what happened to you until after Ei made the Raiden Shogun, even then, I had to ask. She was still upset about her sister's death, it's not a excuse and she was punished justly."

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

You smiled, "for what, darling? You didn't nothing wrong."

"I've hurt so many people. Killed so many people. I'm sorry."

"Sweetheart, look at me," you lifted his chin. "You were hurting. While it is no more an excuse than Ei's, it is an explanation. You just need to be prepared for the consequences, sweet boy."

Using "x male reader" tags to summon the audience I want 🙏

[skyler10fic]

Public journaling because I need to get this out:

I'm having reflux/GERD induced by my anxiety disorder among other stress related things.

This anxiety is often triggered by spending time engaging with how awful the world is.

I do want to help raise awareness, make the world a better place, be a more informed voter, and do my duty to give everyone resources to do the same.

I cannot keep engaging with this reality at the current rate.

I struggle to set boundaries with my scrolling because it's my highest level/easiest accessible connection point with other people and something for my ADHD brain to focus on.

I cannot simply stay focused because of the ADHD. It is an inability.

At home, I do other things, like household tasks.

But I'm required to be in the office three days a week. Half days are an unofficial/coincidental accomodation.

When I'm at the office, I don't have little tasks to do. Everything is (honestly quite boring) deep thinking, high concentration work.

I cannot "just get a new, more interesting job" in a field that was always highly competitive and has been dying for 20 years. My job is very good for pay and benefits in comparison to others in my field.

So the key is I need a way to engage with people and work with my brain that isn't working against it: neither doomscrolling nor shaming myself into just staring at the screen and forcing myself to work at a slower pace so I don't have so much extra time. I can't just tell my brain not to be bored or not to need distractions.

If I get up from my desk at the office, I'm supposed to count it as break time. So I can't go on walks on the clock. If I take lots of breaks, that adds to the amount of time I'm physically at the office and cuts down on free time. (I do take 30 minute lunch and occasionally 15 minutes here and there.)

My group chats are great, but my friends have busy lives with lots of other things going on so it's not the frequency and volume of Twitter and Threads.

Almost all of my friends are far away, and the people physically close to me have resisted my efforts to increase emotional closeness and depth. They are all in for hanging out, but uncomfortable with emotions or vulnerability or friendship beyond "people I do preorganized activities with."

I can't eliminate the brain need through ADHD meds because of my liver problems (thanks for that, Strattera extremely rare side effects) and other medical risks the doc is not willing to take. Psych doc also says I need to show a positive result on the computerized ADHD $5k test my insurance doesn't pay for (created for hyperactive boys, not high achieving adult women who perform well on tests) to really consider my "attention issues" as for sure ADHD despite EVERY other medical professional verbally diagnosing me. I definitely have ADHD. This is not a question. But there doesn't seem to be a med solution anyway.

Possible solutions I'm working on:

1. More library books I can sneak glances at or listen to on my phone

2. Lists, curated social media experiences, joining more happy/low-stress groups

3. Boundaries, muting words, blocking abundantly

4. Under desk bike helps a lot when I'm not too tired

5. Standard GERD reduction tips and other physical health care

6. Mental health care

7. Listen to soothing ASMR at night

8. Physical self care (food, exercise, hydration, sleep, etc)

I think if I didn't have the ADHD creating a need that the doom sites solve (and by solve, I mean meet the immediate need by creating different problems), this would be easier. It isn't simple "addiction." It's higher up the logical food chain than that.

Today this came to a head with some emotional dysregulation: there is a big personal issue with someone I trusted potentially being a bad guy, and I can't talk about it with my local friends because they won't understand OR they are his coworkers, who can't discuss the situation with me for understandable HR reasons.

Add that stress on to the national / global doom written on the wall for political reality and history and life as we know it, and then there are Oppression Olympics competitors yelling at us that we're privileged , spoiled brats if we're upset because THEY have been marginalized worse than us and THEY aren't fazed or distressed because they are so morally superior to us BABIES who are apparently new here....

Blah blah blah

Anyway. I would very much like to get rid of this stress response in my digestive system so I can eat normal food.