#they also both probably need glasses real bad but no one tell them

[arolesbianism]

Remembered Wendy exists. Explodes.

[ryiju-muunie]

Red Wine and Macarons

Fem!reader/Kento Nanami Warnings: drinking, fluff, humor, Nanami is angy, Kento Nanami also wears glasses in this :P, kissing in the moonlight Word count: 1870 words DESC: You have the nerve to ask Nanami to split the bill at a fancy restaurant

This is completely inspired by Trintheweirdo's TikTok video!! I'm just taking this now it's mine :3 Check my pinned masterlist for more!

“Please, help yourself to whatever you’d like from the menu. It’s on me,” a voice you had grown familiar with rang in your ear, as the blonde man motioned to the fancy menu before you. 

Kento was dressed practically like a god, with his golden hair slicked back with some gel, and his suit perfectly pressed. It was different than the tan and blue one he always opted to wear. Instead, it was all black, no tie, and the undershirt was slightly unbuttoned down to reveal some of his neck. 

You weren’t anything to sneeze at either. He had insisted on you wearing a dress he had bought you a week earlier, a teal color with a lower neckline. The style was something you always enjoyed and he knew that, probably the reason for buying it. 

And while you loved all of it, the fancy restaurants and the expensive clothing… you felt bad. I mean, Kento, an amazing guy, spending a lot of money every time you spend time together? You felt like you should uphold your end and pay for something. But every time you tried, the taller man would swoop in and pay for it himself.

Did he feel bad? Did he feel like you could not pay for anything yourself? You two met at a publishing convention for either of your companies before they merged. If Kento asked you would tell him exactly what your position was, but he never did and he never revealed his position. However, doing some digging on your own, you found he was lower down in the company than you. You!! The one he was willing to pay for every single date made more than him!

That made you feel bad. So as you got dressed and did your hair in the mirror you told yourself you were going to split the bill this time, then when he wasn’t looking you’d fully pay for it and surprise him! From all the shock his head would be swimming and it would be the perfect romantic moment! Then maybe… you’d lean in and kiss him. 

This would mark your sixth date and you haven’t even held hands! So you were jumping the gun a bit and going in to kiss. But you had it all planned out! Nothing could go wrong! Nothing!!

You smiled at Kento’s words and picked up your menu, “Kento, I was thinking…” You trailed off, eyeing the menu. God those sweets looked delectable… oh but you had to eat real food first. 

“Hm?” He looked up, pushing his aviators forward on the bridge of his nose. When Kento was interested in what you had to say his brows would furrow together and his lips drew into a line. He wanted to be completely present for you and it made your stomach spin.

“Why don’t we split the bill?” Then when he wasn’t looking you’d pay for the whole thing and surprise him! You couldn’t wait to see him nod and… and…

Then Kento’s face hardened. It was the exact opposite of what you expected. His eyes narrowed and he looked away for a moment, seething with … rage? Whu-oh. Your expression fell a little bit as you tried to figure out exactly what he was thinking. Was he offended? Was he upset because you insinuated you could pay for yourself and you didn’t need him?

You weren’t trying to be rude! Well, you hoped you weren’t being rude at least. 

“Do you think that low of me that I wouldn’t want to spoil a woman such as yourself?” Kento finally spoke, taking off his glasses by gripping the part in the middle. Then he folded them neatly and set them on the white tablecloth.

“I… just thought it would make it a little easier on you. You know, always paying for the both of us,” you attempted to plead your case, but, god, you sort of wished you never opened your mouth to begin with. 

He blinked a few times, “If I want to date a pretty girl, I am going to pay for her to have a luxurious experience.” he paused and reached for his glass filled with red wine and took a long sip- all the while maintaining eye contact, “I would never make someone like you lift a finger if it were up to me. In a perfect world, I would keep you in a high tower to ensure you’d never get hurt. I would…” And my god did he keep going. 

You had no idea Kento had any … real … feelings at all. Sure he held the door open for you and complimented your hair that one time, but he was never very affectionate. Only going on six dates you thought maybe you would get some romance organically, definitely not in a rage-induced love rant. 

You had never seen him this mad before, even going as far as to motion his hands in the air to visualize his frustration at the fact that he could not pay for you. He never expressed himself explicitly. Was… was that his way of showing how he cared? Was that Kento’s way of showing he did like you? Every time he insisted on paying, picking you up, or buying you a dress, was that how he said … I like you?

Without saying anything, you found yourself getting up and grabbing your jacket. The blonde hadn’t seemed to notice, still in his rant about how if life was different he would have servants catering to your every whim. Which, cute, but not what you needed to focus on at the moment. 

“Kento,” you walked around the side of the table and put a hand over the top of his own, causing him to blink a few times. He looked up at you, with anger dissipating, “C’mon.”

You tugged at his hand a few times and he narrowed his eyes, “But my reservation…” He trailed off, looking down at his empty plate then back to you, “Fine,” with that he stood up and grabbed his glasses, placing them back on his head. 

This was the first time you two had interlocked hands. At first, it was to get his attention, but Kento realized you weren’t letting go. He switched his hand to grasp your fingers with his own, interlocking them and such. A warm feeling spread in your chest and made your heart thump even more than it was. Then he let you lead him outside of the restaurant. It was a miracle he was even obliged to leave and cancel this reservation at the last minute. 

He must’ve realized that you had something in mind. Maybe he saw that his rant touched your heart and you wanted to talk to him privately about it. Well, that was half true. You wanted to talk but you had something else in mind. 

“Where exactly are we going?” He asked after a moment of walking in silence on the sidewalk, past a busy road. The time of night was perfect for a walk, with the way the wind blew past the two of you and how the stars illuminated the walkway. It was … romantic. 

“I really like that you want to buy things for me,” you gave him a cheeky glance, “but I want to buy things for you. If there was a perfect world, I’d want to hide you up in a tower and make sure servants waited on you hand and foot too, silly,” you explained, giving his hand a bit of a squeeze. 

You did hope that Kento didn’t think you liked him because of the fancy stuff. If you two just went to sit and get coffee, you wouldn’t mind. You’d love it. Just the chance to see him in a casual environment would be nice, but realistically seeing him anytime was great. You wanted to show Kento you wanted to give him the same treatment he gave you, as a surprise or even just… plainly. You wanted him to feel as appreciated as you did, because now you knew just how much he appreciated you.

The blonde man slowed his walking pace down until he was completely stopped, staring at you with an unwavering expression. It was hard to tell if he was overjoyed or getting ready to break up with you. It was strange how he looked at you. Was it full of passion? Or was it full of… something else?

“Kento…?” You began with an unsure tone, returning his eye contact warily. 

He didn’t speak but he did break the distance between you two, pulling you into … a tight embrace. It wasn’t exactly what you expected but you couldn’t complain. His warmth and his scent drove you in and made you melt into his arms. You didn’t even know he had it in him to be this intimate, especially in public. 

“You… can buy me a macaron and we’ll be even,” he murmured into your ear. 

With that, you pulled back and frowned, “Just a macaron? Why can’t I buy you a suit? Or-or like a fancy meal?” You raised a curious eyebrow. 

Kento looked down at your face, placing one hand on your left cheek to brush away some hair with his finger, “What if I want you to buy me a macaron? I don’t need things from you to know you enjoy my company, but I want to spoil you so you have undeniable proof I … like you.”

You were going to speak, to pour your heart out, but something else overtook you. You didn’t know if this would be the last time you’d be this close to him, or under the stars like this. So without any more hesitation, you leaned in and pressed your lips delicately onto his. Kento made a faint and startled noise before quickly reciprocating, pulling you closer to his body. His arms wrapped firmly and tightly around your frame until you were sure you’d burst. 

The kiss was G-rated, nothing crazy, but god was it amazing. It felt as if your mouths were made for each other. With each crevice and gap molding together to form one person. 

His logic was a bit flawed and you both knew it. But you didn’t care. If all he needed to be even with you was a French pastry then you would go out and find all the French pastries you could. Just to show you cared about him as much as he did for you, even though you came to find out he already knew that. And you knew now that he didn’t feel pressured to buy you things or spend his money on you. He wanted to. 

Kento Nanami wanted to spend every dime he had on you, and of course, you wouldn’t let him, but you were flattered nonetheless. 

After a few moments of passionate kissing and embracing, you pulled back again to stare up at him, “I can get you that… um…” Your cheeks reddened as you looked him in the eyes, with his own stare being unwavering and intense.

“Macaron?” He tilted his head to the side. 

“Yeah. And we’ll be even.”

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

🦅Russell Adler Headcanons

{Author's Note} Since I'm literally obsessed with this man, I thought I'd post my headcanons for him. All of these are based off of his canon backstory and character with bits of my own speculation thrown in so nothing should be too out of left field here. I may end up posting more of my thoughts on him soon so we shall see. Hope y'all like it and I'd love to hear what you think, as well as any headcanons you guys might have! Tagging @littlemissclandestine for this since she's an Adler fan. Let me know if I did this man justice lol🤭

‼️Content Warning: swearing, suggestive themes‼️

~ ~ ~

-Badass asshole

-Takes awhile for him to soften enough to really love someone

-Flirtatious jerk when he has a crush

-Shows he cares through small actions that can be hard to notice, as well as vague, rather backhanded compliments

-Shamelessly stares from behind those glasses of his

-Thinks it’s really cute when you wear his shades but would never admit it

-Stylish with heavy 70s influence

-Probably modeled for a male fashion magazine at some point LMAO

-Definitely knows how to dance

-Seems like the type to meme a bit on British people (specifically Park lol)

-Very sarcastic, sometimes to the point that you don’t realize he’s actually joking because he's always so monotone

-Secretly loves Belgian waffles (this is a reference to that one Bruce Thomas TikTok lol)

-Has a soft spot for the Beach Boys (I mean, look at that 🎶bushy, bushy blonde hairdo🎶 of his)

-Since so many people have asked and teased him about it (I see y'all in the fandom and I will not accept this slander lol) -> his hair isn’t fake, it’s actually pretty soft, very bouncy, he likes styling it

-Very particular about his appearance as it is one of the few things that he can truly control

-Prefers cats over dogs

-Can get obsessive about certain things and lose himself to them (i.e. his search for Perseus) -> Mason quote: “He spent so long searching for Perseus, he didn’t notice when he lost himself.”

-Still struggles with PTSD from his time in Vietnam, which, alongside his obsession with finding Perseus, is what led to his divorce

-Carries a lot of guilt and regret that he doesn’t like to acknowledge

-Started smoking to cope with the trauma of war, now has a nicotine addiction; when he’s really stressed, he chain smokes like a chimney

-Gets restless if he doesn’t have a cigarette

-Doesn’t sleep well and when he does, he usually wakes up every few hours

-Scars - Shrapnel? Abuse? Torture? Animal attack? No one knows and he’ll never tell

-Kiss or trace those scars and he WILL melt

-Difficult for him to let his guard down

-Has a tendency to isolate himself -> Mason quote: "You were never alone, Adler. Only in your own stubborn head."

-Always wearing those damn glasses cuz STYLE but also to hide his eyes to remain as a sort of blank, emotionless slate to other people

-Absent parents who never showed him real love or support as he grew up so he struggles to do the same for others -> they were the reason he joined the army as soon as he turned 18

-When it comes to cuddling, he loves holding you against his chest and running his fingers along your arm, cheek, or through your hair; small but intimate actions like that are his favorite

-Doesn’t like to show emotions at all, even during more intimate moments; he needs some coaxing to relax in that way, which takes time

NSFW Below👇🏻 (it's really not too bad tho)

-Sit on his lap👀

-Will pin your wrists during the sexy times🫣

-EDGING & OVERSTIMULATION

-After his divorce, he's tended to view sex as more of a transaction where both parties are fulfilling needs for each other so he'd be selfish at first but as your relationship progresses, he'd become far more generous

[creedslove]

DESERVE IT - PART FOURTEEN

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Dinner goes wrong when Murphy can't control his anger over Javi's association with Los Pepes and uses you as a way to offend him. Javier isn't pleased and ends up taking out on you

Warnings: incorrect narcos plot, angst, hurt, offense, asshole!steve murphy, asshole!javier peña, mentions of break up, insinuations of cheating, smut, oral sex (f!receiving)

A/N: Hi besties, I hope you will like this chapter. I don't know how I feel about it, I liked some parts and hated other parts, but I feel it was necessary to the story and well asshole!javi is back, so enjoy!!! 🥺

• PART ONE TO THIRTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

5k words

Olivia chewed her food slowly, her content face as she savored the mashed potatoes and well-cooked veggies and very so often shot you and Javi adorable little smiles. She was an adorable child, eating her own food which you also prepared, while the adults enjoyed their Italian and the bottles of wine.

You had already finished one with Connie before the boys arrived, so you really knew you should stop yourself right there. You definitely didn't want to wake up vomiting all your way to work, you were definitely not ready to have Javier holding your hair back while you emptied your stomach in front of him. You knew he would do it without complaining, just as you would do it for him if he ever needed it, but you got really embarrassed at the thought of it. It wasn't a very sexy image. You were also in no mood to face any pregnancy jokes, because it seemed women were only designed to have one condition which implied growing a child in their womb, especially at your work environment where it was dominated mostly by men and their narrow points of view or women like Colleen who would love to overhear a juicy gossip and spread it through the country even if it had no proof of it being real.

And the third reason was because death would probably be sweeter than facing a hangover in the Colombian heat.

So when Murphy offered you another glass, you politely declined, helping yourself to another slice of lasagna, hoping you could filter the alcohol in your blood by putting something in your stomach.

He shot a glance and raised the bottle at Javi who also shook his head, which you thought was odd. Javier Peña never refused a chance to get intoxicated in alcohol.

You went back to focusing on Connie's story, though Javier's hand was restless on your thigh. That wasn't common of him either. Of course he had the habit of touching you, but he usually just rested his hand on your skin, however, you could feel how he squeezed your thigh softly, you didn't mind it at all, but you knew him enough to tell it wasn't normal. There was something bothering him, but not only him, Steve was also bothered, angry even, as he very often made snarky remarks towards your boyfriend. It wasn't unusual for the two agents to have conflicts concerning work, both of them were stubborn as a mule and if they didn't agree on something, things could get bad between them, but at the same time, they always managed to leave their work beefs at work, so whatever happened must've really angered Steve.

Javi took a deep breath, side glancing at you as you ate. He was hoping you would be satisfied enough so he could come up with any excuse to go home, at the same time he didn't want to rush you, it wasn't your fault he was a dumbass who only took bad decisions in life, well, not only bad ones, you were the living proof Javier could get some things right, but other than you, the rest was just a long shot.

When Steve mentioned something about work, Javi began to restlessly trace patterns on your skin. It was as if he had gotten into a nervous state, though you didn't get what exactly happened, it was like the two of them had an inside joke going on, one that was not funny at all.

You then remembered your interaction earlier that morning, when you put on his shirt and Javi had told you he was going to wear that during his meeting with Messina and you immediately relaxed at the same time you felt your cheeks and the tips of your ears heating up at the immediate memory that flooded you of what came after he had mentioned the shirt. The way he'd gripped your neck, touched you and filled you up with every inch of himself. It felt like you had been lost in paradise. Also, it became a fair assumption the discomfort between the two agents was their boss's doing. She must have been feral on them during their meeting and Murphy probably blamed it on Javier, or Javier blamed it on Murphy like they usually did.

The tension you felt dissolved completely and you actually enjoyed your boyfriend's little touches under the table, they weren't erotic, - Javier wouldn't do that. Yes, he was the kind of guy who would definitely finger you under the table in a crowded place, but no, he would never even consider doing that if there were any kids nearby. But the touches were intimate, affectionate. You bit your lips, pretending you were listening to every single sentence in that conversation, but in reality you were trying to distinguish what exactly Javier's finger was invisibly drawing on your skin, you could feel steady lines, following a rhythm order and you couldn't help but smile big when you finally broke the code.

P

E

Ñ

A

That's what his fingers traced on your thigh.

It was so silly and childish, and yet a sweet reminder of your relationship. He marked you as his even unconsciously. You couldn't lie at all, it felt pretty good.

Olivia yawned big and felt her little eyes closing on their own as sleep became so intense she couldn't keep her little head from hanging low. Connie chuckled as she noticed her daughter being so sleepy and immediately got up, picking her up gently and disappearing into one of the rooms of the apartment.

Murphy took the opportunity his wife and daughter weren't in the room any longer and smirked as he raised yet another glass of wine towards you before killing it in one sip.

"So, Y/N… you and Javi are a thing, for real now, huh? Remember just how a few months ago he was a real dick to you? He treated you like absolute shit and even fucked a hooker that looked just like you, or so I heard…" he laughed softly "good thing you are a real sweet thing and you can overcome those ups and downs in your relationship, because trust me, sweetie, I'll really need this resilience"

Just as shock was everything that went through your body, anger was the only thing that ran through Javier's veins. You both could tell Steve was drunk from the amount of wine he'd had, but he should've known better than to bring shit up like that. It was none of his business, and still quite of a gray area for the two of you as you had pretty much ignored it and pretended it never happened, when in reality you just hoped everyone else would do the same. It had already been pretty humiliating and painful as it was and you definitely didn't need anyone, let alone Steve bringing that up.

Javier slammed his hands on the table, immediately getting up and pointing a finger at Steve's temporary madness. It was one thing if he was pissed off at him. If he wanted to punch Javier in the face he could even do it and Javi would definitely not give two shits about it, but teasing you and bringing you into that situation, that was too much for him.

"Shut the fuck up right now, Steve. Why are you even saying shit like that? I made a lot of mistakes but this is none of your fucking business, I don't talk about your personal life, so why are you doing this to us? To her?" He pointed at you, as you kept your head low, you felt so ashamed at that moment, still clueless to why such thing had been brought up like that, but Steve didn't care at all.

"Sorry Y/N, didn't mean to embarrass you, but I was also wondering if you know your wonderful boyfriend is being threatened by the head of the Los Pepes death squad? Do you know she has promised to end his career in the DEA by going to the american press?" He asked "can you believe that?"

You didn't say anything at the same time Javier's voice filled the room initiating an argument with Steve, hoping he would stop talking.

"Here's a great idea, Jav… instead of jeopardizing our entire mission, you could give in to your impulses and fuck Judy, maybe it will help us all… I'm sure Y/N wouldn't mind, deep down she knows she can't expect much from you… or maybe she would understand perfectly, I'm sure she would take this bullet for the team"

You didn't know why Steve was acting that way, why he was suddenly so angry, you could understand his frustration, of course but it didn't explain why he decided to use you as a target to hit Javier. He could have just talked about his posture as a cop, insist on argumenting how wrong associating with that squad was, but using personal elements to provoke Javier was too much.

"Why are you doing this Steve?" You finally raised your head and stared at him, your cheeks already wet with tears you couldn't control at the anger and shame of being treated that way by someone you thought was your friend.

You could have raised your voice, defended Javier, defended your relationship with him, but you felt so weak and small at that moment, as if you were just a stupid little girl who fell for the Romeo's cheap tricks. You knew you couldn't let Javier's past intrude your relationship, he had changed, he wasn't that jerk anymore, he was a good man, actually he had always been a good man but he didn't believe in himself. You believed in him and that made him believe as well, and that was why your relationship was working so perfectly, but no one, and especially no one you considered a friend had the right to bring those things up. It was mean, hurtful and you felt you couldn't stay there any longer. If Murphy had a problem with Javier, he should solve it with him, and not drag you into the eye of the storm.

You got up and grabbed your coat, walking to the door at the same time Connie returned from the room and watched the warzone her dining room became. She didn't understand why Javier was screaming at Steve at the same time her husband pointed at you and mumbled something she couldn't actually understand and you cried, but she knew it wasn't good.

She called your name, trying to make you stop, wanting to talk to you and ask you what was going on, but you turned your back to everyone and walked away, running downstairs and locking yourself up in your apartment.

Javier on the other hand was livid, he wanted nothing more than throw punches at Steve, he didn't understand where that attack came from, Javi knew he had all the right to be pissed at the Los Pepes association but that should have been handled in the office and not during a double dinner date, and not by attacking and teasing his girlfriend. Javi also knew it was the only way he would get a reaction from him. If Steve had said anything about Javier, he would have probably shrugged it off, but the moment he brought you into the deal then Javi got angry. To the point he didn't know any better and finally punched his friend, feeling Murphy's face under his fist and blood immediately soaking his pained knuckles. He didn't want things to go like that, but it was partially if not mostly Steve's fault for acting like a dick around them all.

Murphy immediately fought back, throwing a punch at Javi, who groaned and was ready to get back at the other man once more if it weren't for Connie screaming for them to stop. She was terrified, in all the years they'd been together, she'd never seen her husband act like that and especially not towards his partner.

She desperately asked them to stop, but Steve seemed to only had fallen back into his senses when Olivia also screamed in fear, so scared at the commotion happening in the living room and snapping her away from her sweet dreams.

Murphy finally stopped and looked at his wife's shocked face, then looked back at Peña, who was panting and wiping the sweat off his face.

"See the shit you did, Javier? You can never do anything right!" He said angrily and paced the living room, "my daughter's crying now, scared because of your fucking scene!!! Not that you understand what that means, because you are never gonna have that, Javier. Never! You'll screw up just like you did with your job, I don't even know why you still try it!"

•••

Javier immediately left the apartment and ran downstairs, the whole environment was suffocating him, but not as much as Steve's words. He knew people didn't take him seriously, not his friends, not his partners at work, not his hometown and not even his dad. And he never really cared about it, or the part of him that actually cared was long gone and buried. It was easier to handle things that way, Javier taught himself.

But lately he had learned to trust a little more in himself, because you had faith in him, you were the only good thing he had in life and he hated himself to be brutally reminded he didn't deserve you like that, he hated how you left the room crying, disappointment after disappointment. Of course to some extent blaming it on Steve was the logical attitude, but if it weren't for himself, there would be nothing Steve could have used against you. He had done all those things, he had humiliated you with a fucking prostitute, not only that, one that looked just like you, it was disgusting and low, and he honestly didn't know why or how you had forgiven him.

Even if the whole death squad drama didn't happen, you would still have to face shame for the rest of your life just because of the mere fact of being with him. It didn't matter where you went, if it was Colombia or Laredo, people would always point fingers at you, whispering and laughing at the fact you chose Javier Peña.

He wanted to disappear at that moment, it weighed so heavy in his chest, he felt so guilty and ashamed of himself.

At the same time he needed to see you, he wanted to avoid you. He hoped you weren't so upset, so broken at what happened, you were such a strong girl, but even he could tell Steve stroked a delicate point.

He stood in front of his apartment and opened the door, walking inside and calling your name, having no answer and swallowing hard, as he knew instantly you were back at your place. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply, a bad feeling taking over him as his heart raced at the absence of you.

He turned around and went for your apartment instead, an anger filling his body, running through his veins. He knew he couldn't just aim his anger with Steve at you nor his self-hatred, but god, it made his blood boil not to find you there. All that talk about love, partnership and understanding just went to shit because of Steve's tantrum?

He didn't knock, instead he used his own key and burst the door open, making you jump off the couch startled. You sniffed as your eyes were red and puffy, being obvious you'd been crying for the past half an hour.

You looked at him, not liking how dark his expression was, he wasn't looking at you with soft, loving eyes, you could see the burning rage and you didn't know what else had happened, but you trusted he wasn't going to be childish and take it on you.

"What now?" He asked and folded his arms "is it because of Judy and her threats? Or is it still because of the hooker?" He asked annoyed and looked at you up and down. He was just so angry, at any other time, he would have wrapped his arms around your body, pulled you closer and made you forget all about what was hurting you, but at that moment, Javier's feelings were a turmoil and he couldn't control them.

You dried your tears and walked to him "why are you being so rude? It's not my fault" you said and stared at him, why Javier was snapping like that was beyond you.

Javier scoffed and shook his head "I'm not being rude, I just asked you a question, are you gonna cry about that too, Y/N? I thought all that talk about forgiving and believing I was a better man was real, but every single time something about my past comes up you're gonna cry like that?" He was visibly impatient at the same time he was willing to give everything in order to shut himself up before he could screw things up.

You frowned and shook your head "yeah, I meant all that when I said I believed you, and that I trusted you could be a better man, Javi… you are a good man" you said "but this is not the way of talking to me, it hurts Javi… I don't hold it against you, but it does hurt… it is something you did to hurt my feelings and you knew it… and now with Los Pepes… you are in danger, your career Javi… what if they try to kill you?" You blinked some more tears, but his expression was indecipherable.

He scoffed again and looked at you

"It doesn't make any sense, there's nothing any of us can do about it, cariño. I've always been a bad guy, too bad you couldn't see it, or you saw it and that was why you liked it so much"

Come on, Javier, don't say it.

He begged himself and bit his lower lip softly

"I don't think this will work, Y/N…"

You shook your head and took a step closer to Javier, he couldn't just regress to what he was before, no, you two had made such progress, you were so in love with each other, he couldn't just do what you thought he was about to.

"What are you talking about, Javi? It is working between us" you said as your breath accelerated and the blood in your ears almost made it hard for you to hear.

"It is working, but it's not gonna work in the long run Y/N"

"Are you breaking up with me?" Your voice cracked as you stared into his eyes.

No, never. He thought. He couldn't hold himself back now, he had made so much progress he was just so happy, he just wanted to fall on his knees and show you he was yours and only yours. But he didn't.

"Fuck this"

He said and turned around, walking out the door.

•••

You didn't keep track of how long you were crying by yourself. You couldn't believe and wrap your head around what happened. Just as you had got Javi, you had made plans with him, you had envisioned and fantasized a life of happiness and love with him, moving into his ranch, living your life next to him, maybe getting married one day and even maybe bringing a baby into the picture, all of that, it seemed so real to you and just like that he walked away from you.

Anyone could see it coming, but you couldn't, because they didn't know Javi the way you did, they didn't love him the way you did and they didn't know he loved you the way you did. He was so affectionate, so in love, always in need of touching and feeling you next to himself, he couldn't just walk away from you. Yeah, what had happened was bad, but all the path you walked together couldn't be undone just by one simple occasion. Steve's words couldn't be that powerful, could they? Or Javi wouldn't just break your heart with that stupid excuse of keeping you safe or because he knew you deserved better. That grew old, you didn't buy anymore. One part of you didn't believe your Javi, your lovely handsome boyfriend would ever do that, but on the other hand that was exactly what it looked like. He had just walked away with no further explanation.

You felt so lost, so alone as if the ground had disappeared off your feet and you desperately needed to find a grip back to reality. The beautiful moment you lived with him couldn't be over just yet, you couldn't accept that was ever all you would get of him because the cold truth snapped you away from the fairytale you lived for the past two months.

Those two months of pure happiness and bliss, of affection and amazing sex couldn't be the only thing to your relationship with Javi, because you were certain those two months would ruin the rest of your life, you would never be able to be happy again.

You desperately felt the need of being close to him, even if he had just left you wanted to feel his warmth, his embrace, smell his cologne, you wanted to cup his cheeks and make sure he was real, he was still yours.

So you didn't think twice before walking into his apartment. It was where you were supposed to be sleeping, where you should be tangling yourself into his body in bed, naked, rapid breathing and rhythm moves bringing the two of you to the bliss you craved so much with your man. Everything about that place hurt when you stepped inside. It had become so cozy, your true home, more than your own apartment and yet, the desperate possibility of not having free access to it every single day just made your heart tighten in your chest.

You didn't know where Javi went, a teeny tiny little part of your brain tried haunting you, planting the jealousy and anxiety seed, reminding you of all the shady sketchy places he often went to to pick up women before getting with you, but you quickly dismissed it. You had hopes it wasn't nothing but a misunderstanding, and even if it weren't, you thought Javier was better than that. Chances were he just went out to some bar to get drunk and forget that night ever existed, and it was what you should do too. If he had the right to low-key break up with you and go get drunk, then you also had the right to forget.

With the exception you we're already tipsy from all the wine you had had earlier, before everything went to shit, and that you were in Colombia and that was definitely not a safe place for a woman to walk alone at night.

Also, the fact you weren't a DEA agent carrying a gun for protection weighed on it.

A gun.

A gut feeling told you to immediately look for Javi's badge and gun, if he had left them at home, it meant he left for a bar or somewhere else, though you really didn't want to even think of that hypothesis.

You shook your head and got off his bed, going to the safe place he kept them both and opened it, finding it completely empty.

Your mouth went completely dry.

He had taken his gun and that could only mean problem.

When Javier drove back home he wanted to punch and kick himself for being that stupid. He couldn't even begin to explain to himself all the things he did wrong. Was it jeopardizing a whole investigation by allowing a death squad to finish the enemies they had in common? Was it letting his temper get in the way of his friendship? Yeah, Steve was a douche and he deserved that punch, not only for himself but for embarrassing you like that. As Javi had thought over and over: Steve could have talked about anything about Javier, but not about you. Not when you were so good to them, not when you were his girlfriend and Steve's friend. It was mean, cruel even and also a cowardly move coming from him. But now, thinking clearer, Javier knew he could have handled things better, maybe he could have just left and let the soberness of morning light handle the situation better. It would've been wiser to do that.

But out of all the bad things Javier did that night, definitely his attempt of pushing you away was the cherry on top of the cake.

He didn't know what had got into him, the whole situation led him to an unbelievable anger, one he should have aimed at anyone but you, because you were the only good thing in his life, you were the one who made it all worth it, you were the one he loved and wanted to have a future with.

And yet, he acted like a real bastard. He purposely hurt you, he left you in the dark and now he was terrified you had taken things to the letter, he just didn't know what he was going to do if you walked out of his life. If you did it, he would deserve it, but he was sure he would die.

Javi parked and got out of the car, his head pounding at the adrenaline and the booze, the punch, the stress and the fear of being alone. He sighed, he shouldn't have done any of the things he did that night, especially not after he grabbed his gun and left, but he saw no other way out. Javier took a look at your apartment door, you were probably there, asleep or crying yourself to sleep, as everything was dark and silent, so he just entered his place, knowing it would be just as dark and empty as it was the first day he moved in.

And you were there.

You were there as if nothing had happened, as if you hadn't been treated like shit by Steve first and then by Javier himself. He just couldn't believe it.

"Y/N…" he whispered and walked to you, seeing your puffy eyes, the tears caused by him, still present. You were still wearing the same dress as earlier, and god, you looked gorgeous, he wished he had told you before. When you were still having dinner with your friends, when he had his hand on your thigh, tracing his own name on your skin.

You didn't move, as you watched him walk towards you, you didn't see the storm in his eyes anymore, but you didn't see the joy in them, they were empty, sad… red.. was Javier tearing up? No, you must've been seeing things, you had never seen Javi cry.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of disappointment in himself, he knew what that scene looked like, even if he still carried his badge and gun, anyone who'd met him before would've guess he had taken a quick trip to a brothel and he felt ashamed of that, of himself and the fact people would always either laugh at you or would pity you for it.

"You're probably thinking I went to a whorehouse or something… Y/N I-"

You cut him off, shaking your head and whispering no repeatedly. Even if, yes, for a split second your anxiety made you consider the hypothesis, but you dismissed it right away, others could think whatever they wanted of Javi, but you knew him. You trusted him.

"No, Javi… I think better of you, I think the world of you and I trust you you wouldn't do this to me"

And that broke Javi.

Because you were too kind, you were too good for him, you were everything he didn't deserve it.

You always assumed the best of him, and he could never find anyone better than you. He wasn't in a whorehouse, he was at a whore's house. He went over to Judy Mocada's and against any better judgment he pointed a gun at her head, how her sicarios didn't kill him on the act, he would never know, but she thought it was intriguing, amusing even. What made a DEA agent hold her at gunpoint in the middle of the night definitely caught her attention.

He had made her an offer, she agreed and he needed to wait for her at the Embassy the next day. A part of him knew it was easy, too easy, actually, but he didn't care at that moment. In fact, he felt he should've blown up her head when he had the chance to.

And then he just wanted to go home and pick up the pieces of what he'd shattered.

And there you were, being too kind to him, being too loving, too affectionate. It just showed him little of a person he really was.

And standing right next to you, Javi felt onto his knees. His head looking up at you, all the love and admiration back in those beautiful brown eyes, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Soy un perro a tus pies"

Javier told you, his breathing was uneven as he waited for an answer that never came. You didn't have words to tell him, after all that happened in just one night you didn't know what to say. So instead, he decided to apologize to you in the best way he knew, the way he could speak beautifully without any words.

He sank his face into your core, lifting your dress up and quickly pulling your panties to the side. He lips didn't tease when they wrapped around your clit and sucked on it, feeling your characteristic warmth, your taste, and when your moans filled the room and your fingers ran through his hair, tugging and gripping at them, he thought that maybe and just maybe things would be alright again.

_____

A/N: it was a hard chapter to write, but it felt necessary to the story, I didn't want to ruin Javi's character development but I also wanted to show that deep down he is still the same insecure handsome broken agent we came to love 🥺🥺🥺

[sinofthesloth]

𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕪 𝔻𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤?

synopsis: How would the first year react to being on a “study date” with you.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ FT. Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, and Sebek ♥

★彡[ᴀᴄᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴏʟᴀ]彡★

You didn’t technically ask him to go on a study date, but it was the only way Riddle was going to let him spend time with you.

Everyone knew you both like each other, but Riddle was very strict when it comes to... anything really. There was rules to everything with Riddle. During the time Ace wanted to ask you on a date, or to hang out to get closer to you, Riddle would interrupt about some rule made by a long dead queen.

You saw Riddle trying to drag Ace into a study secession with himself and Deuce after the issue with Azul. Being tired of constant interruptions, you told Riddle that you asked Ace to help you study for the upcoming basic healing magic test. Riddle said you could join the three of them, and that’s how you ended up here. Sitting next to Ace.

While Riddle and Deuce focused on math, Ace stared boringly at the words on the page. The knowledge of the magic was both interesting to learn about, but boring since you couldn’t perform it. 

Ace, even though he was sitting next to you, was passing you notes under the table. Some were funny, some were cute. But the best ones were the bad drawings of Riddle. They were stick figures with its mouth open and hold a shitty drawing of Riddle’s staff and crown with a bubble saying, “I love to get in the way of love. It goes against the rules to love anyone other than the rules.”

You’d snicker at each one and pass your own notes back. It was like the two of you were in middle school. 

 Sometimes you’d point to a word and laugh as Ace tried to pronounce it in the dumbest ways. Clearly fucking the word only for Riddle to correctly pronounce it. 

When he would try to look at the book with you, he’d place his hand over yours for some kind of contact, but he’d never tell you that. He’d lie and say he didn’t notice. Only to not let your hand go until you had to turn the page.

You did distract Deuce a few times as Ace would continue trying to make you laugh. 

No real studying was done, much to Riddle’s disappointment. 

★彡[ᴅᴇᴜᴄᴇ ꜱᴘᴀᴅᴇ]彡★

He asked you to help him study last minute. 

He normally studies with Riddle, Trey, or Cater, but all three were busy with their own upcoming tests, and he didn’t trust Ace to actually help him study.

The two of you are at Ramshackle so neither of you will be embarrassed about some of the dumb questions the other would most definitely be asking. 

“Wait so, if you don’t stir the potions in the proper direction, I could mess up the entire recipe?”

“I mean, probably. There must be a reason people purposely put which direction to stir it.” 

Deuce, though lovable, is an idiot. He summoned a cauldron, almost dropped it on you, and then halfway through making a mock potion, realized neither of you had all the needed items. So in your pajamas, you both walked to very much closed botanical garden. His test was in the morning and poor guy was panicking over not being able to get one last chance to practice. 

You both had to talk the other out of breaking in. You wanted to do it so he would feel better about the test. He also wanted to do it to get more practice. But neither of you wanted to deal with Crewel’s anger over the thieving, broken glass, and your poor time management.

He ending up spending the night because the two of you fell asleep in the lounge area to him repeating the ten potential potion’s recipes.

★彡[ᴊᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴏᴡʟ]彡★

You asked him if the two of you could study together. 

Seeing it was you that needed help, he wasn’t really focused on studying himself. 

He had you sitting on the floor in front of the couch so he could play with your hair and help you when or if you needed it. Jack kept the things around Ramshackle from completely falling apart while you tried to study.

Ace needs help running from Riddle? Jack lets him inside due to you telling him to, but the second he distracts you? Jack is calling Riddle.

Deuce coming over to join you while studying? Jack has you sitting in the middle with his arm around you to read off your text book. He will also use that hand to make sure Deuce pays attention to his own work by putting his hand on the top of his head to turn it. “You need to read your work too.”

Jack enjoys these little study dates because the way you light up when he tells you that you’re right. He loves seeing the smile it puts on your face and seeing you get excited for more of his praise. 

★彡[ᴇᴘᴇʟ ꜰᴇʟᴍɪᴇʀ]彡★

He asked you. At first he was telling himself it was to get away from Vil, but then it shifted into wanting to see you more. 

He started coming over to Ramshackle so much under the excuse of studying that Vil and Rook asked to join. It’s not that they didn’t believe him but his grades didn’t move any in the last test. 

Epel didn’t say yes, but he also didn’t say no, so they showed up about thirty minutes after Epel should have arrived to Ramshackle. They knock and Grim was the one who opened the door. “If you’re looking for the country boy, he’s in the living area with MY henchman.” Grim clearly didn’t like the fact your time was being spent on someone else.

When the pair walked into the living area, they saw you and Epel reading out of the same book. It seems Epel hadn’t brought his study stuff. 

Neither of you notice the duo as the looked at the two of you. Epel began muttering something as he waved his magic pen and a green mist coated the apple he tapped. 

Vil and Rook didn’t metal with either of you as you both tried to figure out why It hadn’t worked. Epel seemed a bit upset it didn’t work and glared daggers at it. “Maybe it was because you weren’t speaking how you normally do?”

Epel tried again without attempting to sound proper. “In all honesty I prefer your accent. No one else around here sounds like you.”

It still didn't work.

"Speak louder and with more confidence. The more you mumble, the harder casting will be." Vil spoke to make himself present.

All four of you continued studying with minimal

★彡[ꜱᴇʙᴇᴋ ᴢɪɢᴠᴏʟᴛ]彡★

You invited him, but he originally said no. He is only here because Lilia told him that Malleus thought it would be interesting to study with a human from another world. 

Sebek promised him that he would study with you and retell him everything about the study session. I didn’t see it as a date. At first.

You decided to study in the living room since he opened his mouth about how decrypt the dorm was as soon as he walked in. You tried not to let it get to you since you knew he spoke his thoughts as soon as they entered his mind.

You brought your books down as he set himself up to begin studying, and even asked if he wanted anything to snack on. Bringing a plate of cookies and a few pillows to sit on. 

Sebek didn’t ask for anything during the time the two of you studied. Every now and then you had to ask him about the history of something, and he’d answer. After answering a question, he’d take a cookie and return to his own studies. Without realizing it, he began anticipating your questions. Sitting and waiting for you to ask anything about fae history.

You made the mistake of asking about past fae rulers.

At this point, he seemed to have forgotten about his study. He was going on and on about each past ruler. Telling stories of his grandfather's travels with a magnificent, blood-red haired fae. You wrote everything down. The material didn't even fit the parameters of the questions asked. It was simply to read them over and over again, hoping to ingrain the way Sebek faces lit up when speaking of his family's past.

Once he got to speaking on how Malleus was going to make a great leader and how he couldn't wait to guard him with his life, his eyes met yours. A smile graced your face as you looked back to your work.

"The next time I come over, we can discuss further on the matter. You must know next to nothing of the subject and you're lucky I care about your studies."

Maybe he wouldn't share the discovery of how sweet your cookies are or how his chest tightened when he saw how immersed you were with his topic. Maybe he could be a little selfish when it came to his studies with you.

[brinabees]

Wild and Eager

4.7k of dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader. 18+

Summary: You’ve had a thing for your dad’s smuggling partner for years, despite (or maybe because of) his fearsome reputation. A deal gone wrong strands Joel at your apartment after curfew. Will this finally give you a chance to push the boundaries with your dad’s closest friend?

Set pre-show/game in the Boston QZ, Tess doesn’t exist, sorry Tess I love you. 

Content: 18+, unsafe sex, too many pet names, age difference

Notes: This is my first real go at fanfic, so be gentle with me! I also can’t be arsed to proofread, so sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Fucked. That’s what you were. Totally, irredeemably fucked. Why? Well, it’s all because of Joel Miller. Your dad’s favorite “business associate” (read: smuggling partner) and the most devastatingly sexy guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. He and your dad have similarly unsavory pasts, so when Joel first arrived at the Boston QZ he fit right in with him and his smuggler buddies. Most of the other guys your dad works with always give you the creeps, but not Joel, with his unruly, dark curls and surprisingly soft, brown eyes. No, Joel did not give you the creeps, despite what little you knew of his tumultuous past. As far as you’d gathered, he’d survived as a raider, killing indiscriminately and taking whatever he needed. Your dad had tried to shelter you from the worst of his own misdeeds, but you knew the truth. Your dad and his cohort were all the same, all comfortable taking any life that got in their way. 

That’s why you typically kept your distance from anyone who worked with your dad, a distance your father was only too happy to enforce, always wanting to protect you. But, as soon as Joel came into the picture, you couldn’t help yourself. Suddenly, you’d linger outside closed doors when they were having important “business meetings,” hoping to catch the sound of Joel’s deep voice. He seemed to be a man of few words, but when he did speak, no one else dared interrupt or challenge him. You lived for those moments, when the whole room went quiet and you could take in the sound of him. When your dad and his buddies would hang out in the kitchen afterwards, drinking home-brewed beer and sharing stories of past triumphs, you found reasons to join them. Of course, your dad never liked you hanging around these men, and usually he ushered you out as soon as you’d gotten the glass of water you didn’t really need or the canned food you weren’t actually hungry for.

And so it went. Anytime Joel was over at your shitty QZ apartment, your world suddenly revolved around him. Catching glimpses of him, listening to him talk, finding any reason you could to be near him just for a little while. As far as you could tell, your infatuation wasn’t returned. Joel rarely spoke directly to you or even acknowledged your existence. Whenever you tried to catch his eye, he always found something else to look at. You figured he probably didn’t think twice about his partner’s young, sheltered daughter. 

So there you were. Totally infatuated and totally fucked. 

All that changed one night, when your dad and Joel burst into the apartment mere minutes before curfew. They both looked like they’d been through some serious shit, their clothes torn and their skin bruised. 

“What the hell happened to you two?” you asked.

“Deal went bad, don’t worry about it honey.” Your dad’s shutdown was as swift and final as always, and you knew you wouldn’t get anymore details from him about what really went down.

Your dad turned to Joel and clapped him on the back, thanking him for presumably saving his ass.

“Joel, it’s past curfew and with our luck today, I think trying to sneak past FEDRA maybe isn’t the smartest move. You can crash on our couch tonight,” your dad offered.

It was like a dream come true! Joel fucking Miller, in your apartment for a whole night. You felt giddy.

Your dad and Joel took turns cleaning themselves up in your single, cramped bathroom, before you all sat down to eat. Rations distribution hadn’t been kind that week, so all you had were a can each of baked beans and sliced peaches. Hardly a culinary match made in heaven, but it was all you had. The three of you ate in silence, all too preoccupied to hold a conversation. The two of them were likely thinking of their deal gone wrong, but you had other things on your mind. Well, other thing. All you could think of was Joel. How close he was sitting next to you at the small, round kitchen table, his knees nearly bumping yours. How he commanded the room with his presence even while not saying a thing. How he was covered in bruises and had a small cut on his left cheek, wounds you wanted so desperately to soothe. How he smelled, like leather and sweat and smoke. You wanted to bottle that smell and spray it on your pillow every night.

After you all finished eating, your father announced he was turning in early after his rough day and went to his bedroom. That left you and Joel alone. You’d never been alone with him before, and it practically made you gasp. You stood awkwardly from your seat at the table and then, feeling bold, brushed your hand over Joel’s shoulders as you passed him. A quick touch, easily dismissed as accidental, and yet, Joel’s hand immediately shot up and grabbed you roughly by the wrist. For a second, you both just stared at each other, the most eye contact you two had ever made. You felt a throbbing between your legs, induced purely by this one act. 

But, then Joel moved your hand off his shoulder and dropped it at your side. The loss of contact made you want to cry. You’d been too forward, touching him without preamble or permission, and now you’d gone and made it awkward for the both of you. You practically ran out of the kitchen to your room, where you grabbed an extra pillow and a spare blanket for Joel to use. 

“Here, you can use these, hopefully the couch isn’t too uncomfortable for you,” you said as you laid everything out on the couch. He grunted in what you assumed was thanks, and you turned around and went back to your room to get ready for bed. You didn’t know what was going on with you tonight, but even after the complete failure of the shoulder graze, you still felt driven to take advantage of this rare time alone with Joel. So, rather than dressing in your usual, frumpy flannel pajamas, you put on a baggy t-shirt and your sexiest pair of underwear. They were just plain black, but sexy was a relative term when you’re trying to find underwear in the apocalypse. You took a check look in the mirror, noting how the shirt was just a little bit too short to cover your whole ass cheeks. Perfect. 

You left your room and headed to the bathroom to brush your teeth, making sure to saunter right past where Joel was now sitting quietly on the couch. After you were finished, you asked him if he needed anything else before you went to bed.

For a long time he didn’t say a word, and you were about to turn on your heel and go right to bed, accepting that your meager attempt at seduction hadn’t done the job, when he finally spoke.

“I can’t have what I really need.”

Well, that stopped you in your tracks. What the hell did that mean? When he didn’t say anything more, you gathered your courage and asked, “and what is it that you really need?”

Joel stood, took one glance at your dad’s closed bedroom door, and walked over to you, stalking like a big cat hunting its prey. He crowded your space and then some, forcing you to step back until you felt your back hit the wall. You’d never been this close to him. His scent nearly overwhelmed you, and your breaths were coming in quick, sharp gasps. 

“What do I need? I need for my partner’s daughter to stop staring at me all the time.” Your heart fell. “I need her to stop trying to touch me. I need her to stop walking around in nothing but her panties like a slut.” At that, you gasped. 

“But most of all, I need this girl, but I can’t have her” he said, stepping closer, so close that your chest was touching his. Your heart stopped. Surely he wasn’t really saying he needed you, that was ridiculous. But the hard press of his erection against your lower stomach told a different story. 

You stayed that way for a while, chests rising and falling as you both breathed each other in. Finally you gathered enough courage to respond, “why can’t you have her? She’s right here for the taking.” He released a rough groan. 

“You know why baby girl. Can’t be messing around with my partner’s innocent little daughter.”

“One second I’m a slut, now I’m innocent, make up your mind.”

“You’re an innocent, acting like a slut to try and get what you want.”

“What we both want,” you argued. 

“Your dad would kill me. Rip my guts out and string them up as decoration.”

“So, you’re scared?” At that he growled. Good, you were getting him riled up, just like you wanted.

“Baby, I’m not scared of anyone, including your old man. I just can’t go messing up my business for a quick lay.” 

“Oh, so it’d be quick? How disappointing.” Another growl left his lips. He raised his arms, putting his hands on the wall on either side of your trembling body. 

“You better stop teasing me little girl”

“Or what, you’ll punish me?” This was going better than you could have dreamed. 

And then he slapped you. Right across the cheek, which now burned in his wake. As you recovered from the shock of it, you noticed Joel staring at your father’s door, as if he could will him to sleep through the noise. When no light turned on, no door opened, you could see him breathe a sigh of relief before turning his gaze back to you.

“See what you made me do? Almost made me wake your dad and have him catch us like this. Doubt I’d get a word out before he ripped me off you.” You didn’t disagree, your dad was exactly that protective. 

“Go to bed, baby girl,” he said, almost softly. But you shook your head at him.

“What about what I need?” You’re all I can think about some days, Joel.” You figured it was time to lay it all on the line. “I ache for you. Want you so bad it drives me crazy.”

He groaned audibly, before tipping his head down and resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re really that obsessed with me, huh?” His tone is bordering on mocking. But you had no more shame, nodding your head in affirmation immediately. “Bet you’re up late every night, stuffing those pretty little fingers into your cunt, wishing they were mine. Wishing they were my cock.” You nodded again, blushing.

“Want you so bad, ever since the first time I saw you,” you said breathily. You could see him raise his brows. You were barely 18 when he first came to the QZ.

“Naughty little girl, lusting after your dad’s friend for so long. Tell me, sweet thing, are you a virgin? Have you been saving yourself for this dick?”

You hadn’t. You’d had a one night stand with a childhood friend from just before the outbreak, who you happened to cross paths with after the world had already ended and you’d both grown into curious teens. You both seized the rare chance at some intimacy in this messed up world. But, would Joel be mad?

“No... I did it once, with a friend. I’m sorry Joel.” Your words were almost whispered, treading lightly with this beast of a man.

But his face softened a little at the sound of his name on your lips, and Joel brought his hand to your cheek almost gently. 

“No, pretty girl, don’t apologize. I’m not mad. Just means I gotta work a little harder to make sure you forget him,” he said with a smirk. You thought it wouldn’t actually take very much work for you to forget your single stumbling night in the dark... Not when Joel was like this, so hungry, so possessive. It made your core ache with need to see him so unleashed. He hadn’t even kissed you yet and he already had you panting with his words alone. “I like it when you say my name,” he whispered directly into your ear. His intentions of restraint were nearly forgotten in the depths of his need for you. 

“Joel. Can you kiss me already?” 

“I make the demands here, not you, baby girl. Don’t make me punish you, we can’t afford to wake your dad now, can we?” he said, throwing a glance at the still closed bedroom door. You nodded your head no. “Gotta have some privacy to do that,” he said with a wicked grin. You dearly hoped he’d let you find out what kind of punishment he had in mind for you. As much as you wanted to push his buttons, this really wasn’t the time for that kind of fun, so you resolved to let him lead. 

“I’m sorry Joel. I’ve just spent so long waiting for this.”

“I know, I know.” His hands landed on your hips and skimmed their way up your sides. You shivered at the gentle touch from such a rough man. His hands fell back to your hips and suddenly he was gripping you tightly, so tight you thought you might find bruises the next day. It was only a fraction of his true strength, you knew, and the thought of that made you so wet. Between his dirty words and his captivating hands, you knew you had likely soaked your underwear. 

And then, finally, finally, he was kissing you. His lips came down on yours with a bruising intensity, as he brought one hand up to cup the back of your neck. You released a moan at finally getting what you wanted, no, needed, so badly. Joel fucking Miller was kissing you. And he was kissing you well, slipping his tongue between your lips and tangling it with yours. You felt emboldened enough to slip your hands around his waist, sliding one down to grab at his ass. He grunted in surprised approval. 

Suddenly, he pulled his lips from yours and grabbed you by the shoulders, guiding you towards the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to climb into his lap, and like a good girl you proceeded to straddle him. You could feel his hardness pressed right against your core and you were dying for more. No one had ever made you feel like this. You ground your hips down into his, drawing moans from you both. One of Joel’s hands on your hip guides you to press even harder into him, while the other reaches up to toy with your breast. He cups his hand around it and squeezes gently, before bringing two fingers to pinch at your nipple through your shirt. You gasp in pleasure at the slight pain.

Feeling wild and eager to please, you brought your own hands down to the hem of your shirt, knocking his hands aside so you could pull it off over your head. You knew it was a stupid risk, that your dad could wake up and come outside at any moment, catching you straddling his best friend in nothing but your panties. You almost thought Joel would chastise you for taking the lead again, but he was too busy staring at the bounty of your tits revealed right in front of his face. That look alone made it worth the risk of getting caught.

He nuzzled his face between your breasts, inhaling deeply through his nose. You gazed down at him in awe, still half unbelieving that this was really happening. He turned his head from side to side, his nose and lips touching each breast in turn, a sort of gentle motorboat. He seemed to luxuriate in the scent and feel of you, finally getting to revel in this forbidden fruit. He’d noticed you right away when he first came to the QZ, the shy but mischievous daughter of his new smuggling partner. Noticed you, and promptly filed you away in his mind as “untouchable.” 

Well, he was certainly touching you now. His hands roamed across your back and then down to grip your ass, while his mouth began leaving open mouthed kisses on your sternum. 

He pulled away just long enough to say, “Lemme see how bad you need me, pretty girl,” and then his lips were at your nipple and his fingers fell to the top of your panties. Sucking and biting at your sensitive nub, he simultaneously slipped his hand into the waistband of your underwear and down to your dripping pussy. He gathered the moisture there with his fingers, before taking them out and bringing them to his mouth. He slipped two fingers into his mouth and tasted your essence, his gaze never leaving yours. 

“Fuck, you taste so damned sweet. If we had the time and the privacy, I’d lay you down and eat you out like a feast, really make ya scream.”

“Joel, please,” you begged breathlessly. “I need you so bad.”

“Aw, does my sweet baby girl need her cunt stuffed full of my dick? Is she really just a cock hungry little whore?” 

Your already inflamed cheeks flushed even redder at his words, but you nodded your head, too far gone to care about anything as silly as dignity. You had wanted this man for years and now finally you were going to fuck him. Who needs dignity when you’ve got dreams coming true right in front of you? 

“Get up, darlin’, and take off those panties for me”

You practically leaped off his lap with eagerness and immediately slipped off your panties. You dangled them loosely from one hand, putting the other on your hip as you watched Joel take his time. He leisurely unbuckled his belt before unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, slipping them down low just low enough to allow him to free himself from his briefs. Your mouth hangs open at the sight of him, long and impressively thick, with a pronounced head even wider than the shaft, a slick of precum already trickling out. You were by no means an expert, but you pretty much thought Joel Miller’s dick was fucking perfect. You were so busy staring, you barely noticed when Joel reached forward and snatched your panties right out of your hand, before bringing them up to his nose and inhaling deeply. He groaned at the scent of you and then dropped your panties to the couch in favor of grabbing you by the hips and bringing you back down to straddle him, skin to skin. 

You could feel the hard length of him nestled right against your pussy, lightly nudging your clit in a way that made you want to fall apart for him already. You rose up to allow him access to your entrance, but Joel quickly pulled you back down, muttering, “Not yet, baby girl, gotta get you ready for me first.”

“I’m ready now, Joel, please,” you whined. But he just gave you a dismissing look and directed your hips back far enough to give him access to your dripping cunt. Without preamble he inserted one finger deep inside you, making you moan. “More, I need more Joel.” Not one to disappoint, he added another finger, pumping both in and out of you at a steady pace, curling them towards your g-spot. Your head fell to his shoulder as you writhed in pleasure, and Joel’s lips found your neck, suckling lightly. “No marks, Joel, my dad’ll see,” you managed to get out while his fingers continued driving you towards oblivion. 

“Gotta mark what’s mine, baby. But fine, I’ll just have to mark you somewhere a little more private.” With that, his lips made their way to the underside of one of your breasts, sucking harder and nibbling lightly with his teeth. “I’m the only one who gets to see you here, got it? You’re mine now.” You nodded fervently, tipping your head back to look him in the eye once more. “My best friend’s daughter, all mine, practically begging for my cock.”

“Give it to me Joel, I’m ready, I need it.” His fingers pumped more furiously in and out of you.

“Fuck, baby, is that right? You ready for me?”

“Yes, yes, god, please!” you begged, louder than you should have given your dad was sleeping only a door away. 

Suddenly he was wrapping his arms around you and flipping you over, crushing you into the couch cushions with the weight of his body. Then he sat back, admiration in his eyes as he gazed down at you. He fisted his dick with one hand and began to rub the head up and down your wet slit. Everytime he grazed your clit, your entire body seemed to jolt with pleasure. 

“Joel, I swear to god if you don’t put it in right now I’m going to tell dad you were fucking with his little girl.” You’d had enough of his teasing.

“What did I say about giving me orders? Naughty little thing, I really will have to punish you next time.”

“Next time? How’s about you get the first time going before you start worrying about that,” you let out with a giggle. 

“Fine, little minx, I’ll give you what you need so badly.” And then he was notching himself at your entrance before pushing in completely in a single, rough thrust. You felt so utterly full. 

“Fuck, Joel, your cock is so good...” You were babbling nearly incoherently by then. When he began thrusting in long, deep strokes, you could feel the head of his cock drag across the most delicious spot inside of you, over and over. You could feel yourself building towards climax already. 

“Tell me, did that boy make you come?” Joel asked as if he already knew the answer.

“No, no, I’ll only come for you Joel, it’s always been you.”

Joel picked up the pace, slamming into you rough and fast with every thrust of his hips. The sound of skin slapping together filled the room, all worries about waking your sleeping father forgotten. Still inside you, Joel sat back on his knees and reached his hands around to cup your ass, lifting it into the air so he could piston his hips into yours even faster. 

“This ass is all mine, pretty girl,” he said as he kneaded your cheeks with his hands. “Wanna see my girl come for me, but only when I say so.” He took one hand off your ass in favor of stroking his fingers across your clit, rubbing little circles. You could feel your peak approaching, but held yourself back from falling over the edge. You wanted to be good for him.

“Joel, please, I’m so close.” Your words came out in a soft whimper.

“Alright baby girl, come all over this cock.” His words were all you needed, and suddenly you were freefalling into an ocean of pure pleasure. This put any climax you’d ever given yourself to shame. Joel just kept fucking you through it, still stroking your clit as you fell apart around him. 

You came back to yourself slowly while Joel continued to hold you up and fuck you like a rag doll. You could tell he was no longer concerned with your pleasure, fucking you just like he wanted regardless of your oversensitized pussy. It turned you on, to see him so lost to his own desires; a predator gone feral. 

“Come inside me, please Joel I need you to fill me up.” You weren’t quite sure where that reckless desire came from. You knew you’d regret it in the morning, but at that moment you were too lost to pleasure to care. 

“Fuck, filthy girl, you know I shouldn’t.” But you couldn’t stop begging for it, desperate to feel the hot rush of his seed spilling inside you. “Just this once, wild girl,” he grunted out. He couldn’t deny the thought of coming deep inside you turned him on to no end. 

His thrusts began to lose their consistent rhythm, though they remained rough and deep. With a last guttural moan, he thrust in once, twice, three more times and then you could feel the warm rush of his cum inside of you. It felt so right, even though it was a stupid risk, even though it was your dad’s off-limits friend. 

Joel shuddered one last time before letting go of you, your ass hitting the couch as his softening cock slipped out of you. He gazed down at your used pussy, a devilish grin crossing his face as he watched a trickle of his cum leak out of you. Not wanting any to go to waste, you brought your hand down to your cunt and swiped through the mess you found there. After scooping up some cum, you brought your fingers up to your mouth and licked them clean, making a show of it. 

“Fuck me, you perfect, naughty little thing,” Joel muttered almost to himself. As you both came down from the high of your lovemaking, you remembered where you were and both glanced in panic at your dad’s bedroom door. Thankfully, there were no signs of his waking, and you silently thanked the universe that he was such a heavy sleeper. Joel tucked his cock back into his briefs, pulling his jeans back up around his hips.

As you both sat side by side on the couch, Joel rested his head in his hands and whispered, “Fuck, we should not have done that.” That had your head snapping up instantly. He regretted the best sexual experience of your life?

“What happened to there being a next time?” you said timidly, trying to hold in your emotions which would surely only scare him away. But you felt like he was ripping your heart out of your chest. 

“That was just dirty talk, darlin’, you’ve gotta forget about this. This, us, can’t happen again.”

“Why not?” You could hear the desperation creeping into your voice but were powerless to hold it in. 

“You know why baby girl, can’t go fucking my partner’s innocent little daughter, let alone knocking her up.” You knew you were stupid for thinking it, but you’d really hoped he might see you as something more than just his friend’s daughter. But there it was. All you were to him was a quick forbidden fuck, never to be revisited. 

“Fine,” you said, glancing down at your still naked body. Suddenly you were cold, the Boston chill seeping back into your bones. You picked your shirt up off the floor and tugged it over your head before standing and searching the couch for your panties. “Where the fuck did my underwear go? The least you can do is help me look for them. If dad finds them he’ll have some fucking questions.” But Joel just shrugged his shoulders, glancing around half-heartedly.

You knew you were about 5 seconds from breaking down and you didn’t want him to see you cry, so you gave up looking for your underwear and stormed off to your bedroom, shutting the door and climbing into bed. As hot tears began to flow from your eyes, you realized you could still feel his cum dripping out of you.

______________________________________________________________

Back in the living room, Joel still sat on the couch, thinking about what the fuck he’s just done. He fucked his best friend’s little girl. Fucked her hard. Came inside of her. And fucking loved every forbidden second of it. Jesus christ he was so fucked. Despite his harsh dismissal of you, his own resolve was crumbling as fast as it had when he’d seen you in nothing but that shirt and those panties. Those panties that he now slipped out of his pocket and brought to his nose once more, inhaling your musk. 

Yeah, he was fucked. 

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

HELLO?????👀👀👀👀👀

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

And also of course 🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

Thanks so much cal ur a star✨💋

HELLO! thank you so much!!!!!

15 for ❄️:

---

Isn’t. Whatever. It’s not like he was going around being intentionally dishonest. He’s not… Well, he’s not inauthentic. Right? That sounds really bad. 

Instead of letting himself sit and reflect on why that makes him feel so icky, Eddie resolves to have a problem with it. Strike one against this group therapy business. 

There are six people in the group, including the therapist. Frank’s colleague, Jodie. She’s around Frank’s age, with short, graying hair and purple frames around her glasses. She has a very soft voice, and Eddie has to turn up his laptop to hear her clearly. So strike two, honestly. Which is mean,  but whatever. Eddie feels mean lately. 

---

24 for 🪞:

---

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “I know you’re scared, but I promise I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”

Her eyebrows furrow. She takes a moment to consider. 

“I promise,” Buck says again. 

“Okay,” she says, voice burdened by what he’s certain is an impending asthma attack. 

Relieved, Buck reaches into the cart to lift her. She reaches her little arms up for him, clinging tight to his shoulders when he secures her. Eddie rushes over to them and helps fit an oxygen mask on her face. 

“You’re okay,” Buck keeps telling her as the three of them evacuate the building. “You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be just fine.”

He doesn’t know why he’s doing it. More than he would normally reassure a victim. It feels like she needs it somehow. Just a little bit more than everyone else. 

▪️▪️▪️

The paramedics from the other house that responded to the call - the 114 - say Dove needs to go to the hospital. They want to clear her for smoke inhalation, and with her asthma, take extra precautions. The only issue?  She throws a fit when they try to take her from Buck.

“NO!” She shouts. The effort of it causing her to take labored breaths. 

---

45 for 🔼:

---

Like Shannon’s getting a sneak peek at her personality. On the other hand, she’s sore in her abdomen and lower back all the time, and she overheats easily, and she’s not sleeping super well. 

“Did you always know you wanted kids?” Maddie asks as Shannon finally admits defeat and takes a seat. She can’t stand for another minute, let alone the rest of this backyard party. 

“God, no,” Shannon admits. “Both were unplanned, as you know. I really didn’t know before Chris, what I wanted in a family.”

Maddie sits next to her. “I thought I did, once. Then it wasn’t an option… And now, everyone is talking babies lately…”

Right. Not only is Shannon pregnant, but Eddie’s coworker, Hen - the paramedic who’d helped her when she was hit by a car - is trying for a baby with her wife. IVF. Like Shannon, Maddie’s social circle in Los Angeles is small. That must kind of seem like everyone. 

“And you’re in a new relationship,” Shannon nods, understanding. 

“Exactly,” Maddie replies. 

“Well, it’s a big thing,” Shannon admits honestly. “If you aren’t on the same page. I can attest to that.”

“Yeah,” Maddie frowns. “I don’t know what he wants or, well, when.” 

“Probably a good conversation to have,” Shannon advises. 

Maddie opens her mouth to say something else, but across the yard, Buck starts coughing loudly, snapping Maddie’s attention away from Shannon. At first, it catches Shannon by surprise how alter Maddie is to the sound of her brother’s coughing. Hypervigilant, like she’s expecting him to drop dead right there. Shannon can see real concern in her friend’s expression. But then Buck starts stumbling backwards, hand clutching his chest. He moves his hand to his mouth to cough again, and when he pulls it away, it’s red. Bloody. 

“Oh my god!” Shannon exclaims, struggling a bit to stand as Maddie flies out of her chair.

As Maddie runs towards Buck, he begins vomiting blood onto the lawn. 

Shannon feels cold. What makes a person do that? Why would that happen? 

People surround Buck, coming to his aid as he pukes once more, then seemingly passes out. His captain. His sister. Hen and Chimney. Eddie.  

“Dad, what’s happening to him?” Christopher asks, red-faced. 

[coryothesub]

Better Now?

Hi, I’m back, not in the bestest place both physically and mentally and very sorry to everyone who has sent in lovely asks recently. I’ve resumed working on them, but for now I can offer a fully self indulgent semi-autobiographical oneshot about Dr. Sejanus Plinth (hey, we all know he wanted to be a medic so very fitting), which is heavily based on my first ever hospital experience.

No, I didn't have a hot doctor that looked like Sejanus, instead I was treated by a couple of pretty funky dudes, but the story about the two surgeries instead of one is completely true (they had to perform a 2nd one, bc they hadn't noticed everything that had to be fixed before the 1st one). Horny roommates are also based on very real persons and the post surgery pain as well as the sickness from the painkillers are unfortunately real (that's why I wasn't really able to write although I kinda wanted to). Oh and the weird tingling sensation around stitches during orgasm is also apparently a thing. Okay sorry for tmi let's get into the smut.

nsfw / mdni / doctor!sejanus / patient!reader / mentions of hospital and some real medical horrors

“Dr. Sejanus Plinth, I’m going to perform surgery on your broken leg and ensure a steady way to your recovery,” he stood at the foot of your bed on your first day at the hospital looking hella handsome wearing his little glasses and a snow white scrubs.

You were feeling shit scared since it was your first time at the hospital. He always tried to cheer you up, tell you a funny joke or take you on a little wheelchair ride. Your roommates said he was obviously flirting, but you always got flustered and brushed it off as professional niceness.

He was ever so clean and perfect, his dark curly hair impeccably styled and a trail of expensive cologne following him wherever he went. How could he possibly fall for the messy looking girl in the hospital bed? Your hair was dirty, you were sweating profusely from the sickening painkillers that probably made you stink.

You couldn't remember any time when you were in so much pain other than the first two days after the surgery. The only thing keeping you sane was  Dr. Plinth’s reassuring smile that appeared above the little curtain right after the surgery. He nodded at you and said “It’s over!”

You had taken it quite literally, not suspecting what was awaiting you in the coming days. Right after the anesthetics wore off the pain became so insufferable you were just silently crying in your bed feeling like your leg was about to explode from the inside.

The nurses pumped you full of painkillers until you dozed off and the first face you saw next morning was Dr. Plinth.

“You are such a good girl, you did so good,” he smiled softly and you weren't quite sure what he was referring to. Was it your performance of laying horizontally during the surgery? Well you didn't have much choice since the lower part of your body had been paralyzed by the anesthetics.

“That hot doctor, he’s totally into you,” your roommates teased, but you just tried to focus on the fact that you were set to get out of the hospital in two days.

Then the bad news came. Dr.Plinth stood at the foot of your bed, his face darkened by concern.

“There's this other thing. A rupture of ligaments. We were able to notice it only after the first surgery. I am afraid I'm gonna need to perform another one. I am really sorry for that.”

You literally felt like you were gonna burst out in tears, but you clenched your jaw, wanting to look stronger than you actually were.

“It's alright Dr.Plinth. What needs to be done has to be done,” you spoke calmly, but your mind was rehashing everything you were bound to go through again. The wait, the anesthetics, the excruciating pain in the first few hours and the discomfort every time you had to move your leg, even if only to sit up for a meal or go to the bathroom.

“How are you feeling today?” The next day you were woken up by the lively voice of Dr. Plinth. Despite your protests, he came to check on you every morning and since your first surgery sort of  failed, he also came in every evening. You weren't sure whether he did that out of guilt or other feelings.

“Have been better,” you sighed with a grim poker face that prevented him from telling whether you were angry with him or just tired.

“I'm so sorry the first surgery wasn't sufficient,” the poor young man started apologizing in front of your roommates. “You weren't supposed to go through that again.”

“It's alright Dr.Plinth,” you batted your eyes at him, making his pretty chubby cheeks blush immediately. “I know you would want only the best for me.”

His hand was resting on the pillow pile next to your casted leg and you ran your fingers over it, almost making him jump at the sensation.

Your roommates were watching the interaction with great interest, probably thinking you both were gonna start making out right then and there.

Feeling their gaze burning through his back, Dr. Plinth offered you a little wheelchair ride. A bit reluctant, you still got yourself out of the bed and let him help you get on the wheelchair.

“Where are you taking me? Do we need another x-ray or a CT scan?”

“No,” Dr.Plinth chuckled. “They don't perform tests at this hour, except for the emergency room. I wanted you to see this.”

He wheeled you to the end of the hallway and stopped at the large window where you could see nothing but endless forest continuing all the way to the horizon. A fiery red sun was sinking above the treeline making you gasp quietly at the sight.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Dr. Plinth leaned down and you could feel his hot breath lingering on your neck. It seemed almost romantic.

“I come here and watch the sunset at every opportunity when I have the time during my shift. It helps me blow off the steam a bit.”

You turned your head to the side and looked into his soulful brown eyes. He looked even more handsome in high definition.

“It must be hard to work here,” you gave him a sympathetic look.

“Oh, it's just me, as much as I try I can't get myself desensitized to the whole process. I see people hurting every day. And when they hurt, I hurt. That's why I feel so damn guilty every time there's more pain that could have been avoided. Like your second surgery…”

He leaned down closer to you, his lips just mere centimeters from yours.

“I just want to make it up to you. I swear, if I could I would do anything to make you feel better.”

“Anything?” A glimpse of mischief sparked in your eyes.

Dr. Plinth swallowed thickly and nodded.

Quite unexpectedly you cupped his face and smashed your lips into his, something you had been longing to do for quite a time. His lips felt so soft and plump, even better than you could have ever imagined.

Dr. Plinth immersed himself into the kiss, parting his lips to allow your tongue to explore his velvety mouth.

When you two finally broke the kiss to catch some breath, he adjusted his glasses panting softly and looked deeply into your eyes.

“Dr. Plinth, your lips feel so soft,” you chuckled shyly, feeling a treacherous blush filling your cheeks.

“I think you can call me Sejanus at this point,” he looked flustered yet eager to continue your little adventure. 

Sejanus grabbed your wheelchair and opened the nearest door with a plack that said “Sanitary chamber”.

You found yourself in a small room stuffed with toilet tissue, different wipes and sanitary mats, the last rays of the setting sun breaking through the neat stacks of supplies.

Sejanus immediately connected his lips to yours again, his hands running up and down your sides underneath your t-shirt. You gasped as he cupped your naked breasts while gently sucking at your lower lip.

“You know, I could make you feel better in an even more effective way,” he whispered against your lips, his warm hand diving under the waistband of your pajama shorts.

You shivered at the sensation of Sejanus's skillful fingers pressing against your clit, discovering that you were already threathcerously wet.

“What an eager girl,” your doctor groaned as his digits massaged your sensitive bud at a steady place, causing you to let out a series of soft moans against his lips.

Sejanus kept a tight eye contact while letting his two fingers slide inside your squelching wet count while his thumb kept rubbing your clit. It was truly amazing how he managed to cover the whole field.

“Fuck, you’re really good with this!” You moaned as he trailed small kisses down your neck sucking harshly at the spot where it met your shoulder.

Sejanus chuckled mischievously.

“I'm a doctor, we are taught how to touch people in the correct manner.”

“God, did they teach you this at the medical school?” You threw your head back, feeling your legs shaking from the immense pleasure.

“No, princess” Sejanus let out a small laugh, nibbling at your earlobe. “I guess I figured that part out myself…”

Squelching sounds filled the small chamber as he kept fingerbanging you and you tried your best to stifle your moans to avoid the whole floor finding out about your evening shenanigans.

“Oh… Dr…. Sejanus, I’m gonna…” your attempt at building a sentence was cut off by a loud moan as you came all over his fingers, your body shaking and a weird tingling feeling echoing through your stitches.

“Better now?” Sejanus asked in a gentle voice after pressing another soft kiss to your lips.

You nodded, still coming down from your heights as you watched him grab one of the countless tissue packages and gently cleaning you off.

“There you go,” Sejanus smiled, turning your wheelchair back to the exit.

“Wait!” You gave him a concerned look. “Shouldn't I… Return the favor?”

Sejanus graced you with a soft smile, brushing a stray strand of hair off your forehead.

“This was me trying to make amends because I fucked up, remember? Plus, I have to get back to work.”

You pouted, wishing this moment would last longer. Sejanus noticed and tilted your chin up gently giving you a mischievous wink.

“Nobody said we cannot keep practicing this as a form of therapy though.”

[kings-highway]

Sneaking into the advice corner: how do you write non-serious but also non-crack conversations? How do you balance the mundane friendship-building levity bits with the need for purpose and capturing the themes or progression you need without jumping directly into the heavy stuff?

Thank you!

so so so sorry it took me so long to answer this one! just busy and wanted to make sure I could give it the attention it deserves

now, obviously, the master key to this kind of question is just to understand people very very very well, because all questions of dialogue sort of eventually become questions of psyche, but thats a lot of work so Im gonna run through some things I use to address a few of the points mentioned above: non-serious but non-crack; balance between levity and seriousness; and how to avoid jumping into the hard stuff.

1. Non-Serious but Non-Crack

this answer might not gel with everyone but the truth is... just write the crack conversations. based on some comments ive seen on my own stories recently, fandom has turned the word "crack" into anything that isnt intended to be emotionally enlightening or significant. you might be looking at perfectly normal conversations as crack conversations. Or, you might be VASTLY overestimating the average intelligence of the conversations between friends. People are WEIRD. As long as you play it straight and dont make a joke out of your own writing, you can pass off pretty much anything as non-crack if its meant to be characters goofing around and being silly. How the fuck else do you think I pulled off daichi straight up biting a pencil in half in TETRIA or the Peace Sign in In The Woods? Crack content played straight is just regular funny.

2. Balance

im gonna say one piece real quick and then go more in depth.

**Your funny ha-ha jokes have to come before your serious Oh-Nos**

If you finish a serious conversation with a stupid joke, you've ruined the serious conversation. If you finish a joke by having the characters somber up, you've heightened the intensity with the contrast of humour. You know that scene in Mulan where they transition from "A Girl Worth Fighting For" into gazing into a razed village? Imagine how fucking annoying the scene would be if they found that village, and then when marching off to continue on their way broke into that song exactly as it was performed? Terrible. [TBH this mostly applies to scenes that flow into each other, not so much if they are separated by chapters, scene breaks or time skips.]

A much more challenging piece of advice is to try and have a good mental map of how all your characters feel about certain topics/emotions. for example, if you want your character to be avoidant of feelings, theres no reason to make them bad at avoiding feelings, you can use genuinely funny jokes to break up serious conversations and distract the reader (and other characters) exactly as the avoidant character intends to. This just requires some awareness of your scene and will carry more of a weight on the other characters who may realize (or come to realize) what that character is doing. etc, etc. For all types. This sort of transitions into the last one...

3. When to Get Serious (And How to Make It Natural)

now you've probably heard the classic writing advice "people will say everything except what they want to say" and I have a LOT of issues with that for various reasons, but its a good benchmark for understanding the timing on these things. Saying what you Want can be almost impossible. If youve ever had to break bad news to someone - and I mean really bad news, "someone passed away" bad news - youll know how paralyzing doing so can be. You end up doing everything BUT saying that. You pick up a glass sitting on the table and make a joke about how, from the corner of your eye, you thought there was a spider in it. This isnt true, youre making it up you need to tell them something important. You both laugh about how gross that would be. you need to tell them. You think it'll kill you if you say the words out loud but you need to say something so you joke about what would have happened if youd poured yourself some water and there was a spider inside. This is supposed to be a conversation about their father passing away. And now youre talking about drinking spiders. Everyone is laughing. (crack conversation amirite?)

Look, I have severe anxiety about expressing my wants and this bullshit happens to everyone. Do you know how many days I spent telling my roommate about the plotlines of haikyuu before finally suggesting we should watch it together? SO MANY. Because I was just terrified of rejection. This works for everything. People HATE feeling bad. People hate feeling bad so much they'll do the weirdest shit to avoid it. And honestly that's when you get your best humour.

Of course, similarly, since people hate that feeling, they're often likely to COPE by making quips. Typically, if two characters are fighting each other, I find it better for them to be 100% serious. BUT if two characters are communicating while fighting a 3rd thing, theyre WAY more likely to start making little one liners. Obviously if its the climax of your story, hold off, but the very classic "WATCH OUT!" "NO I WAS JUST PLANNING ON GETTING PUNCHED THANKS FOR THAT." (screamed across a field mid fight) kinda never goes out of style. you just dont want people making jokes WITH the things theyre fighting (in my opinion) - this whole concept can be combined with point 2, where these jokes can be inserted in a climactic conlict only BEFORE the emotional beat hits.

But when it comes to timing, it can be hard. Here are a few quick things to keep in mind:

1. If there is external pressure (man coming to kill you RIGHT NOW) that anxiety disappears. These are the scenes you want to break into 100% seriousness right away.

2. If there is tension to break or potential conflict between characters (are YOU the Killer??) characters will avoid this like the plague. Beat around the bush. Possibly for as many scenes as it takes to turn it into a #1

3. If there is bad news or a message to deliver (Your Mom was Killed by the KILLER.) you can hesitate and beat around the bush but it probably should be passed along in that scene.

4. do NOT try and break the tension with humour AFTER the intensity. Sincerity is a good thing, and allowing your intense scenes to be intense and to be heavy and serious even if theyre not funny is really important.

and finally, of course... all advice to be taken with a grain of salt. If you write a scene that breaks all of this advice, and you love it, and its exactly what you want... then that scene is perfectly written. Do what makes you happy.

thanks again!

[fandomobbsessedb]

Wally Darling x Sleepy Reader

These are just some pretty basic head cannons for how I think Wally acts with a sleepy reader bc today I am a very sleepy person.

AN: I’ve taken so many naps today I just figured why not. Also I’m obsessed with this silly little yellow sentient puppet

Warnings: Slightly possessive Wally but that’s about it.

⚫️🔴🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣⚪️⚫️🔴🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣⚪️⚫️

💤- Wally is a very cuddly person, he never wants to be without you, if your sleeping he’ll just lay there and hold you or if you had a hard day, he’ll most likely rub your back/shoulders. Like this boi can just tell from looking at you your holding in a lot of tension.

( that’s probably how you got sleepy in the first place, came home, took off your shoes, let out a slightly loud sigh, and he came rushing over and starts applying pressure to your upper back muscles and boom, your out like a light.)

💤- I imagine that while you sleep he likes to stare at you and all his thoughts are consumed by you and how peaceful you look sleeping. You shift even a little bit in your sleep and his hand immediately comes up to your face and starts to lightly pet where your hairline meets your forehead, just gentle loving little brushes of his hands to help you back to sleep.

💤- if you wake up randomly in the night and get super thirsty all of a sudden, before you can even roll over to see if you got a water before going to bed, Wally’s standing there holding a tall glass of ice water and his soft tired smile.

💤- if you run cold at night he’s got so many comforters for all kinds of seasons that he lets you use. He’ll even wrap you up and bundle you together in a blanket burrito before laying you down so you can sleep comfortably. He’ll hold you all tight and comfy so that you keep warm.

💤- if you run hot he’s got a little stool on your side of the bed that has a lighter form of pajama wear than what you already had on so that you can just slip them on and take your old ones off and go right back to being comfy. He’s also learned to be content with just laying to the side and watching you drift off to dreamland so that you don’t get to warm with him cuddling into you.

💤- if you run on both and your body goes either way, he’s prepared for everything, he mostly just lays next to you admiring you and occasionally saying some (possessive??) things out loud that he couldn’t admit to your face just yet. Mans is just there whenever you need something, too hot? He’ll throw the blankets off of you and grab some water with a LOT of ice. suddenly freezing cold? he has blankets folded up on the bottom edge of the bed so you can control what is on your body and what’s not. He’ll even hold your feet to warm them up faster. Anything to keep you asleep so that he can see you in that relaxed state.

💤- Get overstimulated when it comes to trying to fall asleep/be asleep in general? He has a white noise sort of machine with all kinds of sounds, or big fluffy earmuffs that drown out everything. He’s got your pajama drawer organized by texture so that if you suddenly become irritated you can change out of those quickly. Got to many thoughts running in your brain? He’ll let you ramble and go on and on till you get it all out/he’s got a pen and paper right by your bed for you to quick jot your thoughts down. And you better believe he’s got weighted blankets in all your favorite colors! The minute your out he remembers to take it off but will help compensate by half laying on you to help you stay asleep.

💤- if you have a really bad time falling asleep, he’s got a bin next to his record player labeled “y/n’s sleep remedy” and he’ll put on the gentle music and even hum or sing some of it so that you can rest your head on his chest, and focus on the vibrations coming off his chest to help you sleep.

💤- there’s not much that goes on around the neighborhood, no real rush to do things, and Wally knows your schedule and routine by heart (even if you can’t remember it 100% of the time HE does) so in order to make sure that your in top health he won’t even let you leave the bedroom until you’ve gotten the proper amount of sleep. (In your sleep he tells Home to not let you out of the room till you’ve gotten enough sleep) He helps you keep a consistent bedtime schedule so that you can fall asleep at the same time each night but if you wake up earlier than normal he’ll do everything he can to help you back to sleep. (He can’t have you going out at night, nobody goes out at night…)

💤-And on the opposite end of that, if your not wanting to wake up just yet, or your still really tried, he doesn’t mind the two of you staying in bed for a while longer. Just gives him more time to admire you. However if it starts going on 1 or 2pm he starts to get worried and urges you to start the (end?) of the day.

💤- overall he cares VERY much about your health in regards to sleep, and loves to help you stay calm and relaxed in such a quiet vulnerable time of day. He feels like it’s the only time you’ll let any walls you have down and just be open with him. (When your sleeping though it’s the only time he’s completely open with you, all the things he wishes he could tell you in the day time. All his secrets, his own hopes and dreams to be with you forever, and never EVER have to let anyone else in) after all, it’s just like his favorite song to sing while he holds you in your sleep.

“Just the two of us…”

[silver-dawn-draws]

I don't think I've posted many on here so I'll post a few (also you're so real for that capshot is my life. Live, laugh, love, capshot)

★ Shotgun man uses his shotgun like a baseball bat when he runs out of ammo

★ Shotgun the type of guy to say stuff like "I'm not afraid of anything!!" Then have some cliche fear like heights or Trypophobia

★ Shotgun would not be able to take anything seriously at all

★ Captain takes his job seriously, but he just really sucks at it (not nearly as bad as Shotgun though)

★ Captain seems like the type of person to like transformers

★ I imagine Shotgun ends up in the hospital quite a bit for injuries he obtained from doing dumb stuff, not a huge amount, but wayy more than the average person

★ Captain would make up random stuff to tell Shotgun just for Shotgun to go, "Really?" And he can go, "No"

★ Captain's hair is naturally a bit curly, it very distinctly curls up at the ends (look at his concept art) but he puts gel in it

★ Shotgun would live under a rock. He knows nothing about what's going on in the world. Captain would ask him if he remembers something that happened literal years ago and he'd just be like, "WHAT??"

★ Shotgun would really like sour candies and gummies. Captain would be more of a chocolate person (specifically dark chocolate)

★ Captain has a fake plant he bought, thinking it was real, and didn't figure out it was fake until he watered it and none of the water got absorbed into the fake dirt. He also has one of those big fake floor plants in his office at work. Also captain would be very picky (??) about letting people in his office.

★ Captain would take stupidly long showers

★ Shotgun is nearsighted and needs glasses but doesn't have them. If he did have them they'd break immediately.

★ Shotgun and Jack probably get along pretty well (they're both trigger happy). Both Jack and John would hate captain with a passion though.

★ Shotgun would suck at remembering people's names

★ Captain and Commando would be good friends (my reasoning is that in every fuckin fps, captains first appearance, they showed up together [I don't have much to work with])

★ Shotgun's favorite donuts would be cake donuts

★ Shotgun is the type of guy to lick a salt lamp

★ Captain would have a salt lamp

★ Shotgun has licked Captain's salt lamp behind his back

★ Shotgun would suck so bad at cooking, he's lit a coffee pot on fire before

★ Captain would actually be pretty good at cooking

★ Captain would have a black car that is in really good condition and is very clean. He'd be very proud of it and every time someone rode in his car for the first time he'd have a whole monologue about it and he'd do stuff like patting the hood of it affectionately while showing his car off.  His car would be named Midnight Obsidian and if anyone said it and shortened it to just Midnight or Obsidian he'd correct them and be like, "uhh no you have to say the full thing."

★ Captain's favorite smell would be coconut and Shotgun's would either be ice cream store or gunpowder

★ AuDHD shotgun real

[jiliansky-blog]

Wake me up. Chapter 9. I will try to save

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 1290

That night, you decided to stay in Rivendell. You didn’t give up the plans to visit all the elves cities. But you also decided not to return to some of the worlds. Such as Narnia and the Underworld. Probably you won’t return to Henry. You did everything you could for him.

You watched dwarves go to sleep and prepared for sleep too. When the door opened, you saw Morpheus.

“What about knocking at the door?” you asked.

“I thought you weren’t sleeping," he said.

“That’s not the case," you said. “Well, not only that. That is my private room. You should knock! What if I was undressed?”

“Are you shy?” he smirked.

What a bastard! He made you blush.

"Perhaps," you said. “Why did you come anyway?”

"Other rooms are occupied," he said. “I suppose you didn’t plan me to stay here”.

“Yes, I thought you were ready to return home”, I admitted. “So do you want to stay with me in my room?”

“Well, all the dwarfs and elves looked at me strangely," he said. “So I'm done wondering about it and went to you”.

"Oh," you blushed again. It was something you didn’t expect.

“I can return home," he said. “I don’t need to sleep or rest”.

“No, you can stay." You surprised even yourself. Perhaps you should let him go. But you didn’t want to stay alone. “The bad is big enough for both of us”.

You laid on the bed in your dress and looked at him. The elfish look suits him well.

“I think you will be glad to hear that I won’t return to some of the worlds," you said, breaking the silence. “I don’t see the point in visiting them anymore”.

“So how many are you going to visit then?” he asked, lying next to me carefully.

“I want to finish in Middle Earth for sure," you said.

“And that’s all?” he said, looking at me.

“I need to say goodbye to Loki too," you replied.

“He is not real," Morpheus said.

“Let me paraphrase it". You groaned and smiled. “I want to say goodbye to some of my dreams and hopes”.

“Very well”, he smirked. “You need to rest. Sometimes you, humans, need rest even in your own dreams”.

You smiled, feeling like sleep had won over you again.

Morpheus

She curled next to me and even snuggled with me. I can feel her warmth and breathing. I could tell her what happened to her, but perhaps it would break her. Furthermore, I somehow don’t want it to be like this. The Dreaming is for people who want to find home and refuge. I can’t take it off her. She needs to discover everything herself. I could create a room here for myself, but I felt that if I left her alone, something would happen, or she would escape again. And if she can sleep so peacefully next to me, then she will trust me. I feel

some kind of tenderness. It was the feeling that I forgot. I didn’t know that I was capable of feeling it.

Besides these adventures help me to forget about my own thoughts and problems. Perhaps, I do need such a vocation as Matthew told.

You didn’t know that you can see dream inside a dream. But you woke up in different place. Well, you appeared in another place. You found yourself in a big old mansion. You didn’t remember this place. Furthermore, you walked slowly through the corridors, and in one room, you heard people laughing. You opened the door and saw they were dressed like in previous culture. In the beginning of the previous century. They didn’t see you. You continued your way and found another door that led to the basement. And there, in a glass orb you found Morpheus. He was under the lights, on display without the clothes. So pale, so thin, so fragile. It hurts to see him like this. And then suddenly, he looked at you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked angrily.

He startled you, and you woke up. And I saw that he was looking at you in your room. Hurt and betrayal shining in his eyes.

“How?” he asked angrily. “How and why did you do this? You have no right intruding my dreams and memories”.

“I’m sorry," you whispered. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know where I was until I saw you”.

“That’s enough!” His voice was sharp, like a knife.

And then he disappeared. And you felt like you had made the greatest mistake ever. Was it really happening to him? Did someone take him into this glass prison? He tried to say that something had happened to him. Perhaps you could see his nightmare because you were sleeping next to him. You weren’t sure he would forget it easily?

And you changed your plan. You left the city in the early morning and joined the party through goblin’s cave and into the Mirkwood.

Morpheus

How could she do it? How did she get into this nightmare of mine? Now she knows my weakness and might feel pity for me.

“My lord?” Lucienne came into the throne room. “Do you return?”

“Yes, I return," I said coldly.

“So did the girl wake up?” she asked.

“No”, I replied.

“Did something happen?” Lucienne asked softly. “You looked worried”.

“She is not a vortex; she is something else," I replied. “She can get into my dreams and change my appearance”.

 «What?” she asked, confused. "No one else shouldn’t know how to do this”.

“I know," I said angrily. “I don’t understand how that can be possible”.

“And what now?” Lucienne asked. “What is she trying to do?”

“She wants to find her memories," I sighed. “I could just tell her, but… I didn’t do this. This is her quest”.

“And you just leave her roaming your world?” she asked.

“She doesn’t need me," I said. “And…”

“You are ashamed that she knows about your imprisonment," she said. “Are you afraid that she can use it against you?”

“No, I don’t think she will do it," I said. “But I need time to think and to search more information about her case”.

So you helped him with goblins and got to the Mirkwood. But it doesn’t matter that you were an elf; you still got yourself imprisoned.

“How did the elf helping dwarves?” asked you Legolas. It wasn’t the same Legolas that meet you in Rivendell.

“I don’t have a grudge against them," you replied.

“You are not from our forest," he admitted.

“No”, you said. “I’m from Rivendell”.

“So lord Elrond decided to help dwarves in their silly quest?” he asked.

“Not officially," you replied. “I sneaked out”.

“And is there no one else?” he continued.

Of course, you won’t tell him about Bilbo and his invisibility.

“Yes, there is no one else," you said politely.

Fortunately, he decides to look you up in the room instead of the cell. When you were left alone, your thoughts returned to Morpheus. Do you see him again? It was almost unbelievable, but you missed him already. But he probably won’t help you anymore. Did he really think that you came into his dream on purpose?

No, you won’t be crying here alone. You need to finish your quest, even if you should do this alone. So it was still your world, and you could open the door. And that was when Bilbo unlocked everyone. So you could join them.

And you can save Kili better than Tauriel. So at least he goes to Erebor earlier than in the movies. And you followed them. But you weren’t sure if you could protect him in the end. You were endangered when the main goblin approached you, and you lost your bow.

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe​ @ladymoztaza @sapphireonline @deniixlovezelda

[exbex]

🥃 (date night/drinks) for the sambucky prompt game if you feel like it ☺️

I cheated and poached from a probably abandoned WIP, but it fits the prompt. There is smut and a very brief, vague mention of past trauma after the toast, so feel free to stop after that point if you’d like; the story can end at their toast.

They decide against a fancy date for Valentine’s Day. Too much attention on them, potentially, for this early in their relationship, and also, Sam points out, some businesses use it as an excuse to raise prices. It turns out to be the right call-they have an exhausting mission for three days, and by the time they return, Sam just wants to get into his sweats, eat pizza and “those cookies from the bakery, you know the one.” Bucky grabs a shower while Sam sets up a picnic in front of the sofa. Bucky raises an eyebrow when he re-enters the living room to find Sam choosing a Cabernet Sauvignon. “I didn’t know wine went with pizza and cookies.”

“That’s because you’re a philistine,” Sam jokes. “I put the orders in, can you listen for the door.”

“Absolutely.”

Bucky tips the delivery driver and pours the wine before choosing the movie. Sam comes out in sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He kisses Bucky’s cheek and sits down, serving himself some pizza before picking up his glass. “A toast,” he says.

Bucky picks up his own glass and looks at Sam.

“To coming home.”

“To coming home.”

They make quick work of the pizza and cookies, and finish the bottle of wine. Bucky feels sleepy and content with Sam curled up next to him. He’s close to nodding off when he feels Sam shift away from. Bucky opens his eyes. “I can clean up Sam.”

Sam stops and straightens from picking up the wine glasses. “There’s not much. I was going to clean up and then go blow off some steam.”

“You’re going to work out? Now?”

“No, I have a new toy. Well, I’ve had it for while, but I’ve only used it a couple of times.”

“Oh.”

“Unless you want to make out. Or watch. Or…something else.”

“All of the above? Maybe?”

“Sure. Let’s just clean up and then…see what happens.”

Sam’s kisses and touches are hungry, not the slow, content making out is his usual. It piques Bucky’s interest, and his curiosity even more. Sam pulls away slowly. “Sit down, enjoy the show.”

Bucky sits on the end of the bed, eyes locked on Sam, who pulls his shirt over his head and puts it aside, then hooks his thumb into the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down so he can step out of them.

“I think this is my favorite show ever.”

“I’m just getting started.” Sam gets some lube off of the bedside table. He squeezes some into his left hand and sets the tube down, then starts to work himself open.

Bucky is no longer sleepy as he watches Sam eventually add a second, then a third finger. He picks up a toy that was sitting on the bedside table. It’s narrow, as far as butt plugs go, and has a tube that connects to a bulb. Bucky watches, curious, as Sam inserts the plug, then takes the bulb in his left hand and begins to stroke his cock with his right.

“Is that…is that going to inflate inside you?”

Sam looks at him, then freezes. “Yeah. I didn’t consider…”

“It’s fine. I want to watch. I don’t have any, you know, trauma related to inflatable things.” It’s possibly the strangest sentence he’s ever said, Bucky figures, but Sam just nods and starts to stroke himself again.

Bucky can feel his cock getting hard. He’s not sure if he wants an inflatable butt plug of his own or if he wants to be inside of Sam. Probably both, he figures. He starts to push his sweats down to get some relief.

Sam looks at him and bites his lower lip. They make eye contact and Bucky rubs a hand across his face, chuckling. “Uhh…”

“Do you want to?”

“I…I might be bad at it.” Good job Barnes, Bucky thinks. Real smooth.

“It doesn’t have to be great.” Sam shrugs. “I’ll tell you if it feels good. And we’ll stop, if we need to.”

“Okay.” Bucky kicks off his sweats and pulls off his t-shirt, tossing them aside as he walks to the bedside table to grab a condom. His erection flags but he’s soon at attention again as he hears Sam moan.

Sam carefully removes the plug as Bucky puts on the condom and applies some lube.

“Put some more on your fingers, open me up real slow,” Sam says. “Get a, well, get a feel for the process.”

Sam’s ass is a sight to behold. Bucky wonders how long he’ll last as he puts some lube on his fingers.

Sam moans as Bucky inserts a finger, then another.

Bucky has one hand on his cock, and the little whine that Sam lets out as he removes the fingers of his other hand is almost enough to end things. Bucky guides his cock inside, going as slowly as he can. He means to look up, see if he can get a sense of Sam’s expression, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his cock pumping in and out of Sam.

“Oh Sammy…” he’d be embarrassed about the whine that escapes him but the pleasure comes over him so quickly that it’s all he can do to keep his pace steady, trying to make it good for Sam.

Sam is thrusting into his own hand, his face going slack in pleasure. “Buck,” he moans, his back arching.

Bucky isn’t sure if it’s the way it feels, fucking Sam, or if it’s the way Sam looks, beautiful and free from anything resembling hurt or way, but he’s soon following.

**

“I like it here,” Bucky murmurs as he rests his head on Sam’s chest.

“In bed? Or on my pecs?” Sam’s voice is low and slow, like honey on warm bread.

“Yes,” Bucky replies. “And you know, in this century.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The food is really good.”

“Asshole,” but Sam laughs, and Bucky adds it to his list of things he loves about the 21st century.

[jordanraye47]

Modern High school AU total drama

So as a modern high schooler myself, I decided to try and ‘categorise’ the total drama gen 1 into high school ppl ig. Idk. Except teenager behaviour and jokes.

Heather: Never in any class, and if she is; that’s not her class. Practically runs around the halls with a Louis víton (I can’t spell) bag (Y’know the brown and yellow ugly ones with LV) And probably doesn’t wear too much makeup, but it definitely creases and keeps insisting that she’s clean and has no makeup. Kinda mf to act gay ass hell with her friends, like sit on their lap and make weird as jokes and then be blatantly homophobic. The cheerleading teams capitán and basically just bosses everyone around. She’s also flyer.

Courtnry: Oh my gosh. I have a Courtney in my class. I’ll us fucking tell y’all about her. She doesn’t hesitate to scream when she doesn’t get what she wants, and has even taken over for a substitute teacher cause they ‘weren’t good enough at their job’. She never wears her hair down and always has some braid or something. Uses glasses but refuses to admit it. Has ONE subject she fails so bad. For my class it’s science but Courtney definitely fails smith like French or geography. Bridgette tired to help her but sometimes Courtney is too stubborn and spiteful to accept help (real)

Lindsay: Sweetest girl ever. She’s a girls girl. People are well aware of how dumb she can be, so some either help her steer away from bad people, or are the bad people. She always has lipgloss on her and lash serum infused mascara. She ACTUALLY has good makeup and skin. She gets pimples and breaks outs occasionally but doesn’t think too much of it. Also cheerleader. She’s either side or flyer depending on what preformwncr.

Gwen: maxi skirts. Oh my god EVERYONE calls her emo. I mean who can blame them. (I just remembered I’m taking a 2 hour train tomorrow and I’m very excited) Also gwen constantly draws on her hand and is always down for helping someone do their eyeliner. She’s good friends with Geoff, and someone’s gets jokingly shipped with him by people that doesn’t know them that well. Bridgette understands how the other student are and trusts both gwen and Geoff enough to know that Geoff isn’t cheating. Also she just likes to see them get along. She has aSHIT ton of mesh black tops. I know it she told me.

Bridgette: ALSO CHERR GIRL. She’s back due to her streanghta annd liability. and Bridgette doesn’t have too good access to water around her school, so she only gets to do it during weekends to holidays. Also I’m only doing girls on this list (for now) so I need to include a little Geoff. Geoff gets high and has somehow gotten Bridgette involved in it. (I said expect teenager things so you get teenage things). He has drugs on the parties he throws but Bridgette is way more responsible than him. Also she has her hair down a lot, but is the victim of her hair being braided evertime she sits close to one of her friends for more than 2 seconds.

Leshawna: Everyone knows her. She gets involved in every kinds drama that happens at the school. Also she comforts those girls crying in thr bathroom stalls. Although she’s mean at times, she onto does it to people who deserve it. And he’d standard setting is to be nice to people. (Like she was to Eva in island.) Has goddes braids. She told me it’s true. Idk I’ve always had a vision that she’d love those. Also she’s a good braider. Like crazy good.

Izzy (she’s my fav be prepared): She has a small friend group around her and rarely interacts with anyone outside of that. It’s not like she’s one anti social girl. She just quickly grasped the knowledge that people thought she was weird, and just distanced herself (real). Her friend group is mainly Noah, lindsay, tyler, duncan, cody and sometimes courtney (we love the breakfast club here) ALSO SCARLET SND ISZY ARE SISTERS AND NOBODY CSN TELL ME OTHERWISE. anyways. Most people either see her as really loud or has no idea what shes like cause she’s constantly sprinting though the halls. She has a counsellor and everyone knows, but she refuses to show up to any session and/or meeting cause she has watched too many phsycological horror movies and is afraid of being put in some mental hospital (real pt.2) Also she’s the kinds mf to laugh and then js 😶. Like completely silent dead for thr next hour. And nobody knows why.

here’s pt2 but it’s js Heather and Izzy I’m tired

[m34gs]

Please tell me what sort of Saw trap each house warden in Twisted Wonderland would design if they were the mastermind in a Saw movie.

Hello friend! Well, this is a fun ask! I am actually very excited to get into this, ahahaha. You have no idea how eager I got when I read this ask. I literally went "AHA" and started grinning. I'm going to write each scenario out as if the Housewarden is a Jigsaw Apprentice, and I might even take it a little further and describe what kind of apprentice they would be.

I'm putting a cut, both for length and because these will get a bit graphic. Please see the tags for trigger/content warnings.

Riddle - Riddle is the Rule Boy, By the Book, Stick to the Pattern. The one who adamantly protests every time to the other Saw masterminds "It's not a trap, it's a TEST".

Because of this, Riddle's tests are not overly imaginative, but they get the job done. I think, due to the nature of his signature spell, Riddle would lean toward decapitation being the end result in his traps. It's easy, effective, and doesn't prolong suffering. I like to think he's not one to wish others to suffer. Indeed, if he was a Jigsaw Apprentice, he'd be the one to parrot John Kramer the most about learning to love and cherish the life you have and atoning for past mistakes.

The rules for Riddle's test would be simple. "Find the key to unlock your chains in a certain amount of time, or a saw will cut your head off". Of course, the tricky part is getting the key. No one escapes a Saw trap without some kind of mark, be it visible or invisible. The placement of the key I will leave up to the imagination, as it will have to be specific to the individual in the trap or it will mean nothing. (Keep in mind, canon placements have been: at the other end of the room needing a mad dash that puts co-victims in danger to get to it, in the stomach of a heavily sedated companion in the trap, surgically implanted inside the victim's own eye...etc.). If the victim survives, they are off the hook. Riddle wouldn't dare mess up that part of the game. If they die, he follows John's example and dutifully cuts a puzzle piece out of their flesh, the symbol of that person's "missing piece" that prevented them from winning the game(this is also how Jigsaw got his name).

Leona - Leona can do the job, he understands the assignment. He thinks John's a bit nuts, though. He's another one where there's not a whole lot of imagination involved; he designs the trap to get the job done, makes sure it meets the requirements (because he will not be given a bad grade on Jigsaw Traps, something apparently possible to achieve and normal to worry about?...), but it won't be overly complex, and he makes Ruggie and Jack do the muscle-work for him. Don't worry, he pays them well.

Leona's traps will probably involve some test of strength (keeping in mind the different physical capabilities of individuals, of course). I'm thinking something like a low tunnel filled with various-sized shards of broken glass the person has to crawl through to get to the exit, or climbing through a vent connected to an oven that is on max. heat to get out. Something like that, of course tweaked for the individual.

He makes Ruggie cut the puzzle piece. Ruggie doesn't mess around when it comes to his finances. He cuts every piece perfectly.

Azul - Let's be real, Azul doesn't mind suffering...as long as it's not his own. His traps are always complex, and he sees each new victim as a chance to one-up himself. And it's no problem getting his victims; Jade and Floyd help with that.

I think most of Azul's traps will involve the victim inflicting pain on themselves on purpose. Not just doing things that result in pain (such as crawl over glass) but actively cause themselves harm; probably ripping their own molars out or cutting off a limb, or something, and dropping it in a bin/chute to trigger the exit to open.

Jade and Floyd help with set-up...but Floyd is Not allowed to cut the puzzle pieces afterward. For obvious reasons.

Kalim - In order for Kalim to be an apprentice, he would need to have something awful and drastic happen to someone close to him that pushes him over the edge. When it comes to it, he sees the traps as a job, a duty. It's not something he enjoys and he always observes with a tired distaste but, because of whatever trauma pushed him into this life, he believes it's necessary.

He can't stand the sight of blood and brutality. Nor does he want to know they're dying a slow death. His victim is hooked up to a syringe pump, hands restrained, and they need to figure out the code to turn off the pump before time runs out (probably voice password or something; definitely based on important memories related to the reason they are in the trap, which is hinted at in the tape) or the syringe will rapidly infuse a lethal dose of potassium into their veins and they will go into cardiac arrest.

Jamil has to cut the puzzle piece because Kalim cannot stomach it.

Vil - Vil, like Kalim, needs to be of the mind that what he's doing is necessary, even if he doesn't like it. He has to believe that people need him to teach them in this way, or he won't be able to stomach it.

He also doesn't want a bloodbath; that's not his style. Vil would rather use poison. Poison for his victims, already injected/ingested, with an antidote they have to get...probably behind a locked door needing a combination password. But, in order to get the code, they will have to face what they've done and figure out what the code is, very similar to Kalim's style. However, unlike Kalim's, if the victim gives the wrong code the door will seal shut forever and the victim will be doomed. They need to get it right and they need to be certain.

Vil may request Rook's assistance with making sure people are brought in and the trap set up properly, but he cuts the puzzle piece himself. He believes it's his role, and he refuses to put that onto anyone else. It disgusts him, but he treats it like his cross to bear for the acts he is committing, because a part of him still feels uneasy about all of this and he hates looking at himself in the mirror some days.

Idia - Idia is so removed from the front lines of the traps, he's actually quite desensitized to the violence. He treats it a bit like his video games and he does try out a variety of different traps, each one extremely individualized. He's got all the info on his victims; every single trace of them online, their social security number, their bank statements, anything and everything that can be accessed via computer is his. He knows them inside and out. Every trap is an attempt to be more unique and "entertaining" than the last. It's questionable if he's even in it for the "righteousness" that John preaches, or if he got bored and decided this was an interesting way to pass the time.

All his traps are set up to run completely independently, and all are under video surveillance. I think Idia would get to the point that there's not enough moving parts for him if there's only one victim in the trap, so he starts doing bigger traps, with groups of people, where it's a challenge to try and predict how they all will react, how they would push each other's boundaries and if they would try to see the hints laid out for them or if they would misinterpret it (for anyone who's seen Jigsaw, think about the gun scene with the keys at the end. That kind of a hint. Idia would like to see who gets it). So, yeah, Idia probably builds a maze-trap with multiple little traps within it that the victims have to go through to get out.

While he hasn't yet created something that can cut the puzzle piece and deliver it to him, he has developed a little punch that he can bring to punch out the piece of the victim's flesh should they fail. It's the only time he's on-site after the trap has been set. (Ortho refused to do that part because the dead bodies made him sad.)

Malleus - Malleus believes he is helping people, and he's curious to see how far a person would go to save their own life. He thinks it's his job to bring out the worst and the best in the person in his trap to help them be better than they are now. He's not beyond pushing buttons and upping antes; he sees it as doing what he can to help someone value their life and overcome their own shortcomings.

A trap from Malleus is probably going to involve some form of self-mutilation, giving enough flesh or giving enough blood, but also some emotional pressure. He will bring their families into the traps; likely remotely so as not to harm the innocent, but to use as leverage to make someone push themselves more. He wants them to succeed. But he will not go easy on them. In order to succeed, they need to pull on their own inner strength.

He cuts the puzzle piece himself, but he's always sad when he has to. He feels less that the person has failed and more that he has failed to help them bring out their better self.

Thank you again for the ask, friend! I hope I answered to your satisfaction :D If you have any questions or comments to add, please let me know, I am always happy to expand on these kinds of things!

[vvatchword]

Sleeper

The last nightmare Delta had was also the worst, probably because it felt so real.

Usually, dreaming was great. In dreams, passersby were as small as children and he tramped through the halls in full diving regalia. Nobody bothered him. In fact, passersby usually sprinted off in the other direction. Then he’d laugh, although it came out in slow motion. Lasted for hours sometimes. His throat hadn’t been right for ages. He’d had a bad cold since… well, he couldn’t remember, but it had to be months at this point.

It was hard to tell where he was dreaming. Most of the time he dreamed he was in a city under the sea, skyscrapers and everything. The floors were patterned in repeating geometric flower motifs, and brass fish arced up against ceilings, and everywhere was green, green, green, a deep fishy green. Past the city lights was the solid blackness and the distant neon flickers of abyssal life.

He liked it. It was quiet. It was dark.

Sometimes he thought he might be escaping in these dreams, although he couldn’t think of where he wanted to go or why it was so important to leave. While he saw bathysphere stations and airlocks, he never seemed to reach them. He would remember: he couldn’t leave yet because he needed to take something with him.

He’d lumber off to find whatever-it-was. He hadn’t ever found it that he could recall.

The worst dreams were when the lights had all gone out and he heard far-off popping sounds. Holes blown in the floor. Fires burning in a clothing store. A mannequin melting. Horrible raspy screams that went up forever.

Fewer of those pretty dreams anymore.

But there was one good thing that never let him down:

Sister.

Whenever he craved cigarettes, she appeared. It never really made sense, but dreams didn’t have to make sense. He’d start to see her, first faintly and in blips. Then he could see her crawling on her hands and knees through the wall, like a faint impression in TV static, and his heart would lift. When no one was looking, he’d knock on the wall. This was how he told her that the coast was clear.

The vents here were huge. Cartoonishly enormous. Big gusts of fresh air blasted out and fogged his viewplate. When the technicians fucked up the seal on his helmet—which they often did, they were harried these days—he could smell fresh earth. Somewhere, there were forests.

Eyes flickered in the vent like burning coals.

“Daddy,” whispered Sister.

“Ohhhh,” he said, and reached out. His voice came out deep, sonorous, strange.

The nightmares usually started when she tumbled into his arms, all stick limbs and scraped knees. She was the only good thing about them—they were together—they were complete. For at least a few moments, everything was fine.

“Look! Look!” she said, flinging her arms up. “It’s you!”

She plopped a yarn doll up against his faceplate. It had a baseball for the head and a broken wristwatch for a face. The second hand flicked, flicked, flicked, at a second to midnight.

“I made it!” Sister said, smearing it against the glass. “It took me days and days and daaays.”

He groaned appreciatively. Granted, he would have made the same sound if she had held up a rock or a tin can.

For a minute, he would hold her up, feel as though something had locked into place—something was correct—but he was missing an ingredient. Worst part of the nightmares was feeling like they had to go somewhere, and not remembering the location.

“Come on, Daddy!” she said, sliding down his arm. “ADAM!”

She stuffed the doll underneath her arm, yanked her syringe out of her sash, and grabbed his hand with both of hers. He took a step, rumbling, his tone a question.

“Fa-ster,” she said. “Fa-a-aster! Slowpoke! I can smell the ADAM!”

ADAM.

Get ADAM. That’s right.

He followed at a slow trot. He was always slowest and heaviest in nightmares. He couldn’t drag his gaze away from the little brown head bobbing ahead of him. His hand swallowed hers, but he held it with inestimable gentleness.

There was a flicker of movement in the hallway just ahead.

His thumb pressed tightly over the back of Sister’s hand.

It had been there just a moment. A fish’s shadow? A man’s trousered leg? Whatever it was, it was gone.

Didn’t care. He swung up his drill. It was longer than Sister was tall, originally meant for hollowing stone and boring holes in hulls. He never took it off.

Sister’s hand slipped from his. She pattered away as quickly as a cat.

He staggered after her, lowing.

“Hurry uuup,” said Sister, stamping at the top of the stairs. “There’s an Angel!”

A beam of light from an emergency bulb threw her shadow against the wall. She was waxy white, her eyes so bright he couldn’t even see the shadows of her pupils.

For a second, he remembered her standing against the glass in the day lighting, bottom lip sucked under her teeth, pinafore balled up in her fists. She had freckles. He remembered her eyes being blue and her hair being all mussed up. Covered in grime from sliding on her belly through cracks all the goddamn time, and bruises and scrapes all over. Cute fucking kid. Not a good kid, obviously, but that had always reminded him of himself.

Then he tried to remember what he was like as a kid and the whole kit and caboodle slipped away, and all he had was Sister, white and glowing and alone.

Fear tingled all the way to his fingers. He felt distressingly heavy. If she would only stay close… everything would return to normal. Everything would feel better.

“Angel is this way! Come on!” She pattered into the blackness.

He took the stairs three at a time, fingers resting on the lever inside the drill. Jogged through circles of light and deep pools of shadow. He thought he saw movement just ahead. Could have been her.

No.

It wasn’t her little padding feet. These were heavy plastic soles, big pounding scrapes.

He charged down the hall and skidded around the corner.

Sister was alone, kneeling beneath a tilted street lamp. An Angel sprawled below her. She plunged her needle deep into the Angel’s liver and waggled it one way, then the other. Stabbed again, plunged straight through the muscle. Rich red liquid flowed into her bottle; she hummed.

Lowering his drill, he breathed in.

Held the breath.

Breathed out.

“Lily-poppies,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Li-lies. Po-ppies. Sca-bbies.”

Shoulders sinking, he plodded to her side. The Angel rocked beneath her ministrations. A whisper started in the back of his mind.

Bad.

The Angel was fresh. Looked like someone had shot it point blank in the forehead. And this one was nicely dressed, too; nice tuxedo, pressed white shirt, carnation in the buttonhole. His wallet lay beside his upturned hand, the clean bills peeking out of it. He lay on a tarp that stank of fish.

From down the hall, ghosts whispered.

“Is that the one? Is that it?”

“Gotta be. That’s an Alpha. I haven’t seen one of those in ages.”

“Don’t jump the gun. What’s the symbol?”

“Triangle! That’s it! We got ’em.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. Now get out there.”

“No, you do it. You’re the big assassin here.”

“Buddy, you’re the one with the grenades. You don’t even have to get close.”

“I… I can’t. Grenades just… they don’t do shit, man. You saw Joseph. He was in four parts. Four parts.”

“That’s the difference, you idiot. Joseph went alone. We have the Family.”

“Fuck the Family. I’m not suicidal, man!”

“Shhh!”

“Fuck it! You do it yourself!”

Footsteps rushed away down the hall.

“Hey! Hey! Asshole! Come back here!”

Three sets of footsteps, a slammed door…

Delta had already flicked the lamp on his helmet. Nothing. He and Sister were standing in a hub where four tunnels converged. A statue of a man lifting a sunburst leaned against the wall, glittering with glass. He had been felled at the shins; rebar twisted out of the base like dead stalks. All the lights had been blown out except for three emergency bulbs still glowing palely against the ocean.

Sister tilted the bottle back and sucked busily, her doll leaning against her hip. She was sitting. He wished she wasn’t sitting. They might need to start running.

“Hrrrrup,” he said.

She sucked down the dregs, burped, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Syrupy stuff streaked across her cheek.

“Come on, Daddy,” she said, and bounded up to her feet and across the room.

He groaned and charged after her. The doll lay lonely behind them.

“Hurry!” she called. “More Angels!”

She took a tunnel that sloped toward the seabed. On either side, the buildings flew up, a thousand walls and neon signs, shoals of mackerel shifting sluggishly. A Greenland shark drifted by, so dark and still that it might have been dead. For a few minutes, Sister and Delta sprinted alone through the pale green light.

The tunnel terminated at another hub. This one was remarkably clean. The sister statue to the previous hub’s still stood upright, with floodlights throwing dramatic colors over its shoulders in oranges and reds. The plants around its feet still lived, and the fountain still trickled. Fresh water. No rubble. Shining tile. Delta’s boots squeaked on the floor. Through the glass, long rectangles of yellow light; dancers in bright colors wavered.

Maybe this would end up a good dream after all.

Sister raced straight ahead.

“This way!” she said.

She was making a beeline for a door framed by neon. Over it, an animated sign: “NARCISSUS.” The frame flashed from white to red to white again, and gaudy flowers opened over and over and over. Inside the petals were grinning faces. He couldn’t read it; he knew that he should be able to, somewhere in his mind; but the letters were like hieroglyphics, acknowledged, colorful, bright, but meaningless.

Sister threw the door open. Light flooded the corridor, blew out the contrast, hazed everything in gold and white. But he did not hesitate. He charged over the threshold, from tile to carpet. Thick carpet, plush carpet.

“Wipe your feet,” said someone far away.

Delta snarled. Busy.

Two men with guns framed the door. Big, broad-shouldered boys in turtlenecks and black trenchcoats.

“Big Daddy coming through!” one yelled, and dropped his gun, raised his hands, flattened back against the wall.

His friend did the same, but not fast enough. Delta shouldered past him. One elbow was all it took. The trenchcoat hit the floor, hard, and the gun’s stock cracked on the wall. A woman screamed.

The music squawked off. A room full of tuxedos and silks turned as one. Women with ivory barrettes in their hair. Bright red lipsticks. Roses, mums, forget-me-nots. The band, standing on an alabaster dais, with a mirror behind them. Delta saw himself then, hemmed in by scarlet carpet and golden ceiling, stirring up the cigarette smoke. At his feet, party-goers in all the colors of the rainbow, small and perfect and pretty, and Delta like some hulking astronaut from another planet, the uniform color of shit. But Delta only had eyes for one person. He could feel her presence flying ahead of him. He plunged through the crowd, past the marble bar, the waiters in matching vests. Sharp gasps; a soft cry.

The closest partygoer turned, making a face.

“What is that god-awful stench?” he said.

Delta brushed by. The man slammed so hard against the bar that he threw his martini over his shoulder and baptized the bartender.

“Just a Big Daddy, folks!” someone was shouting. “Just a Big Daddy! Don’t touch the Little Sister. Careful. Careful. They’re just passing through.”

“Can’t wait until this war is over,” someone slurred. “Can’t even go for a drink…”

Door marked “Exit.” Delta could see it closing slowly, and there were two more trenchcoat men with their hands up against the wall.

Delta banged through the door. Behind him, startled chatter rose up, as did the ragged upswell of swing. He had entered a utility hallway leading to restrooms. Only a handful of people lingered here—smoke-breakers and hangovers. The carpet surrendered to tile. A trash can with a polished cap.

The dark mouth into another hub.

He could vaguely see his Sister through the dream-sight then. She’d found an Angel, all right. Another one, lying on a tarp, this one scruffy, no wallet, hadn’t shaved. Shot point-blank between the eyes. In his hazy other-vision, he could almost feel the dimple in the skull.

Sudden color against the checkered tile.

Sister screamed.

An electrical jolt flashed through Delta; his heart missed a beat.

“Give it here, you brat!” a man said.

Delta roared and charged down the hallway. He shoved one half-drunk man out of his way and the hapless fellow jabbed an elbow through the wall. Far behind him, the party went silent again; pretty heads peeped out.

Delta slid to a stop on a balcony. Just below, lit up as though on a stage, was Sister, circled by four pacing ne’er-do-wells in threadbare pants and patched jackets. Worst of all was the bulky man who struggled to yank her needle from her hands. He flung her back and forth—back and forth and back and…

Delta’s heart throbbed—another electrical jolt sizzled through his chest, this one twice as painful as the last—

Hang on, kid!

Delta flung himself over the balcony. Moment of weightless glory, then the full brunt of all 1,500 pounds came crashing down. He smashed the first man under his boots like a beetle. Yanked the lever in the drill and it roared to life, rattled his bones all the way up and down his spine. The attackers spun back, dipping, ducking, like hyenas around a rogue lion.

“The bigger they are!” cried a man on Delta’s left, and lunged, swinging.

His pipe clanged off of Delta’s shoulder. The next second, Delta’s drill bored him a second navel. The man gurgled, a kittenish sound, before his ribcage split open like the leaves of a book.

At the same time, the only woman in the pack leaped on Delta’s shoulder, pounding him with her wrench until his head felt like the clapper in a bell. She was screaming something, but hell if he cared what it was. Spinning, flinging the legs and trunk of the first man into the air, he hurled her against the tile. She bounced, leg cracking beneath her, and slid over her partner’s blood. It was no getaway. One good uppercut, a solid strike beneath her chin, and Delta launched her across the room. She cracked against the wall and flopped wetly to the floor, her leg bent at an awkward angle and her head torn half off.

Glaring at him from the foot of the stairs was the final attacker, the thickset man with small eyes. He had curled his elbow around Sister’s neck with his left arm, jammed her needle into his right, pumping the ADAM-rich slurry into his body. Blue light chased the outlines of his veins, glazed his fingers in crackling light.

“Want some, big guy?” the asshole hissed.

Screaming with rage, blind with terror that was half his and half his Sister’s, Delta flung himself up the stairs.

He didn’t even see the flick of the wrist; all he saw was the beam of lightning. The impact boomed against his breast. He reeled, slid, staggered through the banister, somehow didn’t go over. Lights and dials sputtered. Liquid fire roiled beneath his skin, and every muscle tightened in his arms and legs, and his chest seemed to be bound with iron. His heart seized up again. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe.

“Da-ddy!” Sister wailed.

All he could see was Sister’s face, twisted up in horror. Everything else around her faded. The thickset asshole backpedaled, dragged her further toward the doors at the top of the stairs. Sister kicked and bit and clawed, stretching out her arm, like she could pull Delta back up onto his feet by will alone…

Groaning, reaching toward her, Delta jabbed the point of his drill into the floor and lifted. He took one staggering step forward. Then another. And another. Faster, and faster. This time, when the asshole flicked his hand, Delta ducked—thunder boomed over his shoulder—and in two swift steps Delta clenched him around the throat.

Hacking, eyes bulging, the man dropped Sister and her needle and his hands flew to Delta’s arm. He flashed with light just as Delta’s thumb punched into his windpipe. The explosion blasted them apart. Delta skidded, tumbled, crashed on the staircase. Above, the light-spangled ceiling slipped sideways.

The thickset man hadn’t fared much better. He rolled over the ground, spasming.

Little pattering footsteps.

Sister threw her arms around Daddy’s elbow. Delta patted her on the back. His hands were still quaking. The stairs shuddered beneath his formidable weight.

Twitching, moaning, Delta heaved himself to his feet. Sister scrabbled up his side and snuggled up against his helmet. Delta whirled to face the thickset man again, raising his drill.

“Unzip him, Daddy,” Sister whispered in his ear.

Panting, spitting blood, the thickset man dragged himself to his knees, snapping his fingers. The electricity on his palms faded quickly; he folded his hands together, and when he raised his palm again, there was a dripping green polyp balanced on his hand.

“Go to hell,” he rasped, and pitched.

A pop like a water balloon. Wet green flesh burst all over Delta’s faceplate. A wave of confusion swept through him, tingled down his spine. It was far more disorienting than the electricity. His muscles seized up, one after another.

Groaning, Delta dragged to a stop. The point of his drill hovered at the attacker’s throbbing throat.

“Unzip him, Daddy! Unzip him!” Sister said. “What are you waiting for?”

Delta commanded his arm to move, but it wouldn’t. Could not fold his fingers. Couldn’t even make a sound. He labored to breathe. Fear billowed up in the pit of his stomach.

The attacker reached up slowly, pushed the drill away with the flat of his hand.

“Hold your breath,” he whispered.

Delta hacked. His throat seized. A wondering groan started in the pit of his belly.

“Bad man!” screamed Sister.

She sprang off of Delta’s back and onto the thickset man, stabbing him in the shoulder with her needle. Screaming, he threw her off, and she rolled down the steps. The thickset man charged after her, wrenched her to her feet.

“Brat!” he said, backhanding her.

“Da-addy!” Sister cried, her voice strangled.

Delta choked, coughed. He sucked each breath down with effort, and turned — it was like trying to move through molasses. He stretched his arm out — his drill sputtered to life. But the thickset man flung his hand out and splayed his fingers wide. Delta released the lever and the drill wound down again with a disappointing whine.

“That’s right, big guy,” the asshole whispered. “Wait right there.”

A door opened at the head of the stairs.

“Told you, right he… oh my god!” said a man.

“Eleanor?” said a woman with a British accent. “And Louie.”

The thickset man whirled around. Sister squirmed in his hand.

“Doctor Lamb!” he sputtered. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

He dropped Sister. She stamped on his foot — he hissed, leaning over his knee. With a squeal, Sister raced to Delta’s side.

“Daddy!” she said, tugging on his hand. “We’ve got to go, Daddy!”

Delta managed a gurgling sound.

Sister swung on his leaden arm, wailing. “Wake up! Wake up!”

“Eleanor,” said the lady, stepping down toward them. “Eleanor. Come here.”

Sister and Delta locked eyes with each other. An unspoken question ran between them.

“What happened?” asked the man behind Doctor Lamb. His voice was strangled.

“Knuckles, you cunt,” rasped Louie. “Doctor Lamb, this fucker is worse than useless. The minute he saw the mark, he ran. Of course he took the grenades and fucked up the entire plan and now everybody else is dead.”

The little man cringed. “I’m… I’m sor…”

“Fuck off.”

“Louie, Knuckles, please.” Dr. Lamb gripped Sister’s hands and pried the tiny fingers free. The girl stared up at the woman, slack-jawed, as though she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Dr. Lamb’s face was severe—high cheekbones, sharp chin, shark eyes. Not a hair out of place. Not a wrinkle in her suit.

“She don’t recognize you, doc,” said Louie. “They never do.”

“What was wrought with these methods can also be unwrought,” said Dr. Lamb, prying the tiny hands free.

Delta swayed on his feet, and his strained gurgling grew frantic. His heart felt like it would wrench itself out of his chest. Lamb looked him in the eye in the same way one might examine a statue.

His fingers itched.

Dr. Lamb dragged Sister to the base of the stairs. She kicked, wailed, screamed. Dr. Lamb’s knuckles were white and tensed, her arm stiff, but the way she pressed her hand to her breast was with the same unhurried emphasis as an actor on a TV screen.

“This is not your daughter,” she said. “Do you understand? Her name is Eleanor. And she is mine.”

“Doc, he’s an automaton,” said Louie. “He can’t…”

She held one long finger up. Louie sighed and fell silent.

“Now. Kneel, please.” The lady extended a hand to her side. Knuckles, small and shivering, handed her a pistol.

Delta dropped to his knees. His arms relaxed.

“Remove your helmet,” she said.

He reached up to his helmet and patted around for the wingnuts. Every time he’d gone in for maintenance, the techs had started stealing them for other projects, and he had been left with just two—one on his right shoulder, the other on his left. They were loose enough; he tossed them to the floor with trembling hands, then pressed the hilt of his drill against his helm and twisted it free. The pressure within equalized with the room, and his eyes and ears popped. With some effort, he lifted the helmet off and laid it beside his drill. The air burned against his eyes, but he did not blink; his eyes were still locked with Sister’s. Her face was even more ashen than before.

Knuckles gasped.

“Woof,” said Louie, and whistled.

Dr. Lamb did not blink. If she were horrified, she didn’t show it.

“Now. Take this pistol,” she said, holding it out.

With agonizing slowness, Delta folded his hand around the stock. Could everyone hear how fast his heart was going? Fuck, he still couldn’t breathe.

“Hold it to your head.”

He fought the impulse with all his might. But slowly, inexorably, he raised the muzzle to his temple. Sister covered her mouth.

Dr. Lamb folded her hands across her lap. “Fire.”

For a second, his heart beat in tandem with Sister’s, and he knew that she understood. In that single moment, when all he could see was her terrified face, he could hear her voice in his head—a stream of terrified gibberish, something he had only heard once before.

Don’t leave me Daddy please don’t leave me please oh please

He pulled the trigger.

All he felt was the impact. He did not hear the shot, only her voice, a scream that surged up from both of their hearts at once. He never heard it end.

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